Diary of a Sociopathic Stalker

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