Being an Object

So the last tie to my favourite area now being severed, I am free to consider what I want to do next, there are a couple more stories I could write about the area, I might or might not depending on how I feel.

Oddly enough the upset has cheered me up a bit because the public face has gone back on.  I was thinking myself into such a hole that I was becoming a bit too real. I am back to putting effort into feigning happiness as a defence mechanism, which is actually a good thing.

I really do not feel like doing any artwork at the moment, I am not sure why but I have been digging my heels in for quite a while. I made some interesting clothing I guess, but am more concerned about work and putting the house in order for the moment.

This is, of course, routine.  I have a distinct pattern which I follow every time. I sort of exist in the past tense.  If I like you (and I do mean like rather than love or whatever you choose to call it), you will rarely know until I have gone.

This is insanely self protective, but should be understandable since the pattern always ends with the conclusion that nobody considered me real in the first place.  That was certainly the case with the family.

I saw this with my mother as well, she was bullied horribly during her brief periods with the public, for no apparent reason other than her being a shiny bauble.  Nobody likes  a shiny bauble, apparently they need to find problems where none exist.

The website may be coming down in the next few days as the host is messing me about with conflicting messages about their service. Worry not, it will return, but they haven’t answered my many questions yet.

The Isla rapist story is just so tedious.  Just open a non-binary incarceration unit at Carstairs and put them all in there.  Then tackle the issue of non-binary sport/toilets etc.  Women have not had protection for long enough for this rights appropriation to continue. Why Nicola got sidelined into this crap strategy I do not know.





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