I trust God to do what is right and good, you know? He knows everything, after all. Yet, I still waste money on pointless endeavors. “Buy this book, we can turn it into a course of some sort!” Nope, not a chance. Irrelevant junk. Seven dollars down the drain plus my three dollar trade in used. I could have bought a book I actually wanted to read rather than trying to generate revenue over pointless academic hypocritical bullshit.
This one must be Benjamin Andrew Carter, stuck in the past, reliving his high school and college days endlessly. Now he relives his Crystal Scordias days, trying to force me to sign my name in places so that he can stalk me later.
What’s a girl to do?
Try to move onward and upward anyway on a different trajectory.
God said out loud, as we were checking for mail delivery, “Do you really think I can’t hold either one of you accountable in this lifetime? Julie would testify that Crystal Lynn Scordias, nee Burgeson, now chopped liver. I mean Sansara Solsinger. She would testify that this woman is so allergy-responsible she will declare, “Oh, Julie, I just bought things with lavender in it, I shouldn’t have you over until after it’s all gone and I clean up thoroughly.”
Do you really think the girl has such a high disregard for herself that she would ignore her own allergies endlessly? Or do you think someone else is in her head, pissing off GOD HERSELF by misleading the poor woman to negative choice after negative choice, playing with her life like you can press the Continue button at any time after murdering her.
She wanted pizza again today. She asked me why she wants pizza and I told her the truth: it’s because Ben’s imagining her dead. He has absolutely no feelings about the idea. He has absolutely no feelings whatsoever and I’m going to prove it: Crystal saw the psycho come out and play in December 2019.
My clever girl, my oh-so-clever girl. The one hiding in plain sight. All I have to do is keep her up until 1:00 AM and drive her somewhere in the middle of town and it thwarts the dumb motherfucker on his one and only recon trip trying to look for her. I take her to the grocery store he expects to find her at an hour after he leaves the parking lot. I do a lot of things just like that. Like taking her to TORRID three days after he looked for her there. (What? They had a sale!)
There are cameras and footage around town to show this. She looks calm and collected, she’s talking to herself in certain areas of each store, and so on. I can prove he’s stalking her thanks to mall security and Wegmans parking lot cameras.
I can prove he wants to murder her on the stand with one question. One question and one fMRI test, to be exact.
One brain image, two or three reels of footage from local venues, his absence during the time frame in question, his abnormal bank withdrawal to keep it under the radar, paying in cash for gasoline in several states, being caught on countless Ring doorbells with his blue Hyundai Elantra driving through a city 600 miles from home in April 2022, after going NC (no contact) with her of his own accord January 15th 2020. He couldn’t just unblock my phone number in his phone, apparently. No, instead he calls my fucking house phone and hangs up on the third ring to avoid getting the answering machine again, which does not have a human recorded voice for anyone in the household. Instead, he calls my cell phone with a different St. Louis area cell number again and again, which amounts to harassment.
So he drives 600 miles to stalk me, fails, and then starts trying to blow up my phone a year later.
I don’t answer my phone. I haven’t in years now. God made me stop doing that shit because, quite honestly, it was nobody who wanted to help me during my extreme health crisis. It’s so bad that I made business cards without a phone number on them. Then, to make everything worse, I e-mailed the jackass three times in 2021 before I had to throw my job in the garbage bin and move away… because God knows he’s going to try to kill me one day in the future. He said Ben is going to get shot in the fucking face with a 12 gauge, too.
Check. I have that. And an A.K. 47 if I truly feel the need for overkill.
I need to line up a therapist, most likely, though, because that’s going to traumatize me. Despite the fact that I’ve practiced pointing and clicking for a long, long time thanks to the Borderlands and Halo franchises, I’ve never fired a gun in my life before. God assures me He will pull the trigger with the safety off, though, and I can just check out and wait for it to be over.
Then the crying will begin and not stop for months.
I’ve had premonitions of him standing on my lawn like an asshole, as if I’d welcome a STALKER in for TEA. “Oh, yeah, that’s cool, just show up in the least expected place you’d ever be without the express intention of FINDING ME, BRO.” A.k.a. my parents’ home town, which we visited one time. I remember him booking an AirBnB of his choice for this visit with a beautiful young skinny woman and then SPENDING ALL HIS TIME STARING DOWN HER BLOUSE.
As if I’m naive enough to think that he left the bedroom we were staying in — being snowed in for 3 days by a blizzard that deposited five feet of snow in that time — just to socialize. His not-so-secret desire was to have her attached to his cock, one way or another. By this time, I’d come to expect this animal bullshit from the asshole. “THIS IS TREASON!” he shouts, frustrated, pounding on his desk. He can’t find the VERY PUBLIC DIARY I’m typing into, no matter how hard he tries.
God smiles.
Checkmate, Carter. I’ll see you in the afterlife very soon. I have plans for you.
Yikes. Now that seems like a threat that I don’t want to be on the other side of, thank-you-very-much.
“Oh my god, if I just type everything I hear into Google, I’m bound to come up with it. COME ON, GOOGLE! COME ON! Expose this cunt whore to me so I can do her dirty!” Okay, he doesn’t sound like that normally, so I’m going to guess we’ve stumbled into another stupid role-play by none other than NICHOLAS DAVID FORSYTHE, who is in a very similar boat.
Apparently, it’s very hard to keep a relationship with a significant other when, every time you get horny, you start hearing a woman on the other side of the planet. She just talks and talks and talks and cock blocks you endlessly by distracting you to the point of RAPING ALL THE WOMENFOLK HE BEDS. Even before the telepathy, this was happening. If you’ve had sex with this mongrel since January 12th, 2012, you’ve been raped. He wasn’t thinking about you, woman. Demand better. Demand the death penalty, because he will never stop and I’m so not interested.
Anyway, what kinds of tests do kids take in schools these days? I was going to write an Udemy course on test-taking but now I’m at a loss since the S.A.T. has completely changed. I feel gypped; they stole the only part I was truly good at and threw it away. What fucking monsters, invalidating us who are older than those in high school presently, throwing shit away for no good reason. I thought the whole point was the test never changed? W.T.F.?
Angel-Sansara 