Awww sheeit

I had REALLY been putting this off. Really, really, really.

No, it's not about being beaten -- I already covered that ground, it's no secret from anyone.

It's not about Zoe's death -- I typed with tear-wet hands and shook and sobbed with memory, but finally put it past me.

It's not about a lot of things, because I already wrote them. I've released so much anger and pain through this blog in ways I didn't think possible, never thinking anyone else would bother to read them.

But I know you are. Good. Mother. Fucking. Bloody. Hell. Shit. Piss. Hell again. Mother. Bloody. Crap-on-a-stick you cannot stop stalking me!

I've saved typed exchanges for a while now in case I ever needed evidence to present in case this person whom I call my Stalker ever actually acted against me, but I feel nearly positive this will actually appear as some "evidence" of holding on to the past. I try not to touch those logs. I just stuff them in a folder labeled "Conversations" without a name and ignore them and hope I never, ever need them.

Looks like I need them now -- no, my other tiny handful of reader(s) (? does anyone else even read this? I'm so boring I don't even read most of these myself!), I am not, I believe, in physical danger, or any other potential legal danger -- but I do need to get them the hell out there. I NEED YOU TO GET THE HELL OFF MY BACK, MAN. OFF. MY. BACK.

Anyway, I also saved them for posterity because when someone has an argument and presents their case many years later, how unaltered are their memories really? How colored would those words be by bias? I saved these conversations in their concreteness and I will submit them unaltered. Anyone can choose not to believe me, but I will dutifully preserve even the nastiest of the nasty mud I slung, for I have no desire to erase my own negativity here. Anyone who has read my blog in its fullest knows I'm fairly unabashed.

But I feel no bashfulness, no shame or guilt, for this entire exchange. Not even for the meanness. I relished the meanness, really, for so rarely does an entity so bilious worm its way into my life that I can justify acid of this strength.

Perhaps I am a vindictive bitch after all.

Just in case there are any misconceptions -- namely, the same misconception that seems to have happened repeatedly in the past several years -- this is not an invitation to reopen communications. I will simply be taking several posts to copy and paste a few exchanges of the past for all to see.

Maybe in some world this could be considered wrong. A breach of privacy.

No. I would expect no less an act towards me, if ever I acted so indecently.

A motto I have is that if one does not want their shit on record, they should not have said that shit in the first place. Let alone in print.

Will anyone else read the future posts? Will anyone CARE?

I pretty much have as much stake in their opinions about this as I have about anything else here.

But I've been putting this off for another reason -- I feared retribution.

This is a man who has continued to needle me through whatever avenues of communication allowed, for years after I told him to leave me alone, and then, to needle my friends instead. This is a man who was dishonorably discharged from the military for mental instability. This is a man who told me that every female who has ever rejected him, he has wished harm upon.

This is Edward Carroll.

I sure know how to pick 'em, eh?