Diary of a Sociopathic Stalker

Do you remember the Oily Stickers from the 80s? When you pressed on them the oily colors swirled around and sparkled. They were truly mesmerizing to my child brain. They're still around, I guess. I only know this because my niece had a few. She sent me a card she made and stuck one on it. I sent a photo text to her dad to confirm receipt of said card and his response was, "She gave you that?! That's love." I'm not good at love. I don't understand it. I don't know how to do it in a way that other people recognize it for what it's intended to be. I spend a lot of time thinking and writing about it. Dissecting it on my laboratory table with razor sharp tools that slice and parse the meat and bone into separate piles. When I'm done all I have is a bloody mess. There's no longer anything that resembles the shape of love. Only carnage. I guess you can't pick a thing apart and expect it to be what it was before the operation. I suppose that's

Realization hits me in waves. I always manage to outsmart truth and reality, but sometimes it smacks me in the face and I have to sit in it for a moment or two. I’m sitting there now. None of it was real. How could it have been? There’s no chance. I gave it no chance to be real.  You never had one shred of honesty from me. Never one true acknowledgement that what you were experiencing was true, that I was on the other side of whatever anonymous account was befriending you, seducing you, attacking you, diagnosing you as schizophrenic, telling you to kill yourself. You think you know, but you don’t know you know. After all the gaslighting and victim blaming coming from every direction you will never respond in sincerity to, trust or believe anything coming from my passive aggressive, cowardly approach where I try to coerce and incite you into action, so I don’t have to take responsibility for anything that happens in a potential outcome. I see this now. I have seen it before, but I push

Funny, how when I Play by your rules you call it cheating and yell foul

I love being a troll. I was poor white trash growing up so me and all my friends were trolls before trolls were even a thing. We didn’t have the internet. No one did. We were just what you would call, basic assholes. Tact? Never heard of it. Feelings? Who cares? If there was an opening for a joke you took it. Clowning the other person is a sure way of establishing dominance even if you don’t have the muscle to back it up. I was wimpy when I established my skull crushing psychological techniques, but I pump iron now and am super buff so I’m in triple threat territory yo.   Ohhh I loved it so much; growing up feral. Running around in shorts and nothing else, basically naked, scratching my balls and sniffing it, telling a POS off any time I please because I don’t have a job and don’t answer to no one but me! Now I’m an “adult” and there are all these rules I need to follow to be “polite” and get paid and just literally lick ass in general. Fuck ‘em! Fuck you! It’s too late. There’s an itc

 

When you’re also orchestrating DMs from “people” telling your beloved that your end game is for them to kill themselves? Do you? Do you love them? Do you want them to die? Why would you tell someone you love such a thing under any guise? Why would you ever say that to anyone, barring the fact that you’re a complete fucking psycho that will say anything to illicit whatever response from someone, beloved or otherwise, just to get a rise out of them and feel powerful in the moment, consequences be damned? I can’t answer that because I am in fact a complete psycho and I have no true sense of self awareness. Everything I think and feel is twisted to meet the needs of my ego. You saw those text messages, didn’t you? The ones I posted earlier where I said I knew at least one or two other people were stalking you but I let them get away with it because it had a beneficial effect for me. Hahahaha, what kind of psycho allows other people to torment someone they love because it allows them to mas

I love talking about myself. It feels so good. Apparently talking about yourself activates the same part of the brain that turns on when you’re having sex. Maybe I just made that up. Fake News y’all, do your research. No, but really, it activates some pleasure center that lights up when you’re eating food or taking a dump or something. Google it. Or just have a small chat with some rando at the grocery store and you’ll see what I’m talking about. It’s no secret we all love to blab on and on about ourselves even if our conversation companion is clearly dying to excuse themselves to go walk on some tacks, still we persist because let’s be real, we all have a little covert narcissist hiding inside our wormy and lonely souls.  But, the big but… I am trying, I am, to be more self-aware. I am aware that I can be boring. I tend to repeat myself on a loop in an effort to assuage my anxious feelings. My mom didn’t have the time or presence of mind to teach me how to self-soothe. My ego defense,

Another Valentine’s Day without you in my arms. Who is “You” anyway? On that point I’m not always so sure. Who am I writing to? My ex-bandmate, my dead husband, my mom, my niece, my brother, my first crush in elementary school… Composite characters, Dear, not YOU. All of life is my Muse. Who do I love? No one? Everyone? Probably mostly myself. Usually, my best stuff is about myself. I write about “you” the way I want someone to write about me. All the heroic and admirable qualities I expound upon are based on my own virtuous behaviors and the grace with which I carry myself through the world. Those are the ones that get the most likes and upvotes. I know you think this blog is about you. I know you think the thousands of poems and stories I’ve written are meant for you to see and for me to wank off to. You’re wrong, of course. Just because I sprinkle in details from your phone calls and emails doesn’t mean the whole thing is about you . I just use your mundane specifics to add a touch

 https://soredemonao.tumblr.com/post/187827900239

 

 The comments I have my trolls leave when you post are golden. They are good at their job.

Who wrote this?? It wasn't you?? https://www.reddit.com/user/Acceptable_Key_848/comments/1aoos4r/a_famous_person_cyberstalking_me/

Have you ever stopped to consider that? I mean really consider it? There is no me. I never noticed you at all. That was just your over inflated ego telling you, once again, that everyone is into you. I may have looked at you because you were in my line of vision, then you took that and ran with it, told yourself the things you need to feel are true to make it through the world in the way you want to see yourself, contrary to the evidence at hand. You believe you are desirable. You believe you are irresistible, charming, radiant. You believe your aura oozes out from an ineffable source, casting a spell on all who step within your reach. Being alone so much as a child, misunderstood, criticized, you needed that narrative to obscure the truth that you were unloved and unwanted. The story you have created about yourself is in direct opposition to the reality of who you are. You love to use the word delusional on me, but that’s just you, seeing yourself. I believe the armchair diagnosers li

 The never ending negotiations, rinse repeat.

When you posted your evidence online, how many dozens of people DMd you saying the exact same thing happened to them? Almost too many to count, hahaha. They had all been duped into believing a small time celebrity named Soren was communicating with them through his blog posts and surveilling them after having hacked their cell phone and computer. Luckily for me they all either came to the realization that they were schizophrenic or being gang stalked and I truly had nothing to do with the situation. I was being framed!!! Pffft! Truth is stranger than fiction, am I right?

Here's another one of my characters you talked to on the phone... Was is me using Auto Tune to alter my voice as Hanley suggested?? Noooo, sounded too real , right? I love it when you're confused, hahaha.

This was January, 2018 on Tumblr. Ugh, so many platforms, so many years, so many characters!!! Good thing I'm OCD with my record keeping otherwise I wouldn't be able to keep any of these details straight! This was like the 5th or 6th character I created to message you saying they had your same exact story... you know the story (this story!) where they are being tricked and / or baited into thinking they have a relationship with me because the things I post on my blog are referencing their real life. They are sure I've hacked their devices and I'm spying on them, come to find out it's actually schizophrenia! Hahahaha! That was my gaslighting 101, planting the seed that you were schizophrenic, being gang stalked or persecuted by witches. I'm bummed you never believed any of it. I did so want to see you check yourself into a mental facility.  There's still time! We have all the time in the world, Bella. xo

 

 

The hamster wheel of adult life has arrived; feed yourself, piss, shit, shower, sleep, or don’t, pay taxes (?), maybe get laid if you’re lucky, bonus if you actually enjoy it. Here it is, folks, the Nothing New Under the Sun era of your life. If you’re under 30, go away, your grating optimism and can-do attitude is a fucking drag. You will be cringing at yourself in 10 years’ time. Trust me. I know you don’t believe me. Neither did I until I got there. You can’t know what you don’t know. I’ve read so many books, been so many places. I’ve had so many conversations, met so many kinds of people. It’s all the same, everything grey, lackluster, always falling short of just amazing. Is it TV’s fault? First world problems? Our expectations are too high? Maybe if we were hunting and gathering our food with family or tribe and the concept of “survival” actually had meaning that empty longing we all seem to carry would finally leave us? We could all taper off our anti-anxiety meds and sleeping p

 

 

 

“If all else fails, the abuser recruits friends, colleagues, family members, the authorities, institutions – in short, third parties – to do his bidding. He uses them to cajole, coerce, threaten, stalk, offer support, tempt, convince, harass, communicate and otherwise manipulate his target. He controls these unaware instruments exactly as he plans to control his ultimate prey. He employs the same mechanisms and devices. And he dumps his props unceremoniously when the job is done. One form of control by proxy is to engineer situations in which abuse is inflicted upon another person. Such carefully crafted scenarios of embarrassment and humiliation provoke social sanctions (condemnation, opprobrium, or even physical punishment) against the victim. Society, or a social group become the instruments of the abuser. Abusers often use other people to do their dirty work for them.”  - Sam Vaknin

 

He was actually my husband, but I like using boyfriend because it sounds cuter. We took so many wonderful trips together. Many for birthdays and celebrations, but also to visit friends after their mass exodus to Europe when you started dropping evidence of their involvement in my “plan” or “game” whatever you wanna call it. France, Italy, Greece, you name it. We went so many places, usually on my dime, but that’s love right? Financially it worked in his favor that I carried so much guilt for being a mostly shitty person. I have since shed the shackles of societal shame, embraced my shadow side. I’ve done this with a lot of help from kink culture. You can normalize maladaptive tendencies for things like emotional abuse by calling it “Emotional Sadism” and claiming you’re a “Dom” doing it to better your “Sub”. Of course, in kink culture they highly stress the concept of consent, so I have things I still need to work on. Boyfriend and I loved to travel. Even though I was the Emotional Sad

If you had a dollar for every time someone told you that, you might finally be able to say you gained something from this whole mess. But you don’t. No dollars gained, only dollars spent, no peace of mind, or wisdom or scintillating conversation to offer at dinner parties… only a newfound cynicism and a convoluted tale of nonsensical horrors that makes you look insane in the telling. A personal nightmare that has been so mentally draining it has pushed out and overwritten many of your childhood memories and relevant day to day facts like who the president is. Your central nervous system has gone into hyperdrive advocating for your sense of safety, allocating all your mental and emotional resources to watching your back, keeping one eye on me at all times. I love the attention. Ignore me, I’ll move on to someone else. That statement is wrong on so many levels. First of all, you’ve gone through many years-long periods of ignoring me, going grey rock, NC. Out of nowhere something will tri

 

Maybe that’s where our conflict is stemming from, a difference in opinion on what romance is? What I think is romantic seems to be somehow off putting to you, yes? When you moved across the country, changing your number and not giving your new address out, I took the time to put in the footwork and money to track you down. I’m not sure if you understand everything involved in doing that but it’s a fair amount of effort. I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. It’s because you matter to me. I would think that would make a difference to you, no? Then when I found you, I put my neck on the line texting you from that burner number letting you know I had been watching you ride your bike in your summer dress. Can’t you appreciate how risky it is for me to admit that in writing? I did that out of love. Who else in your life cares enough to fly across the country and lurk around in your neighborhood for hours just hoping to catch a glimpse of you riding your bike? I thought women waited their whol

 

 

 

 

You don’t know. Neither does anyone else. That’s why people like me are so terrifying. Why is every bomb threat taken seriously, even the most ridiculous sounding? Because no one really knows what’s in the mind of an unknown person, their possible motives. It’s hard enough trying to know what your spouse or kids are lying to you about much less a person you’ve never met who seems to enjoy making threats and stirring up chaos.  I’ve proven time and time again that I’m comfortable violating your personal and legal rights. I’ve demonstrated a complete lack of ability to hear you or empathize with your perspective, wants, and requests. My logic and reasoning are so “creative” that I manage to take situations, such as you publicly outing me, and twist it into a scenario where you’re trying to get my attention. You’re flirting with me. I do have perspective on this sometimes, like right now, but I’m very persuasive in my own mind and I don’t like hurting so I go back to choosing the narrativ

 

 

 

 

Believe me, I know. In all the years I’ve been reading your emails and listening to your phone calls, the one thing we can definitively agree upon is that. I know your family messed you both up, but it’s never so evident as when I’m listening to your sister monologue about whatever it is she knows better than everyone else in that moment. She’s smart, I’ll give her that, maybe even smarter than me. There’s this quote I love but can only half remember… I think it was written by a critic about Susan Sontag, something to the effect that she wears her learning like armor. That is the epitome of your sister. She’s very well read, sharp as knives, controlling, manipulative and will fight to the death to defend her ego, using every buzzword and bit of rhetoric she’s learned from a book as ammo, all twisted up to fit her case against you perfectly, or whomever else. In some ways I feel we are kindred spirits. I know she’s the reason I was able to make it so far with you. There’s that well-worn

It’s part of the reason I have no fear of speaking openly about what I’m doing to you. When I write about it publicly everyone either says it’s an obviously made-up story that could never be true, or the other half (based on reddit comments and DMs, at least) seem to think what I’m doing is romantic and say you most likely love the attention and are just waiting for me to reveal my true identity and show up in your real life so we can be married. They’re rooting for us to be together. It’s very sweet. I do get a lot of support from the public, whether intentionally or through a bored disinterest in what happens to anyone that isn’t them. Don’t get me wrong, they’re interested in as far as it’s entertaining for them to think about for 10 minutes while wasting time on the internet at work, but beyond that they don’t really care if there’s a real woman on the other side of this story, suffering from my actions. As a man I conduct myself with authority, so I don’t catch too much flack for

I self-flagellate in lieu of actually changing anything in how I behave or relate to the world and the people in it. I use the pain in my art. Superficial wounds are far easier to heal than putting in work to change my outlook or habits. Anyway, I don’t see a problem with my outlook. I’ve thought my world view through using logic and an evidence-based approach (I’m a voracious reader) as well as heeding the voice of the Lord God Our Savior. He speaks to me in dreams and through Signs and Wonders. I’m doing my penance for God and if other people have a problem with how I live my life that is their problem, not mine. I do God’s will. I test you and train you through the lessons and trials I set forth for you to endure. I am teaching you strength of character and endurance in the face of adversity. Lessons can be difficult but no Guru worth their salt makes it easy on their disciples.  Haven’t you noticed, even through all the pain, anguish and tests, I am still always here for you in the

 

 

Playing games with people’s emotions is the only sure way to ever feel secure and stable in a relationship. Case in point, we have cultural phenomena like the book “The Game” that teaches guys how to neg women to keep the upper hand and then the sort of updated version of that is “The Dread Game” that systematically psychologically exploits the liminal space between want and a fear of losing. This is something that I’ve always unconsciously done in my relationships. I never fully understood it until I joined a bunch of incel subreddits and started reading things about how to gamify the dynamic. Once I started comparing strategy with other people using well established tactics, my game took off. Never have I felt so powerful until I did a deep dive into the psychology and mastered the techniques. In a “normal” relationship (mostly with women) you’re supposed to woo them and spend all kinds of time processing their feelings with them like you’re some kind of PhD therapist who spent years

One of the things I like to do when you start telling your side of the story is to first discredit you, then silence you. It’s weird how you can claim to love someone more than life itself and say you only want the best for them but if your ego or reputation are threatened when they tell the truth about what you’re doing you won’t hesitate to take them down in any way you see fit. And by “you” I mean me. I contain multitudes! I’m also a fundamentally abusive person and this kind of thing is my M.O. For years it was so covert that I was unaware of it myself, but then you came along and started pointing it out over and over and now I’ve made peace with it. At first, I was in major denial about it, I see myself as a kind and loving person which is in direct opposition to the way you’re constantly describing me. Now I realize I’m just looking out for number one, as we all need to do, and if you want to put yourself in harm’s way by trying to “defend” yourself then you’re really just asking

Remember this story I wrote for you? It's resembles your story with me close enough that you know it's me writing. Isn't that close enough to truth for you to believe I love you? Don't you appreciate all the detail I've included for you? This work was a masterpiece. I'm posting it here so it's not lost in the sands of time... "With all that I had figured out I still couldn't get the 'why?' Why would he go to so much trouble year after year with so many people? But I think I know now. First off he wants as much fame, power, & wealth as he can get. Why else would he keep touring and touring the same places? Why else would he inject himself into every genre possible. Most artists have their genre and that's that. He was folk, then hip hop, then it was ballet, the rodeo.. They're all so contrasting. Nothing wrong with enjoying different art forms, but he's trying to be everything to everybody and one person can only be stretched