On excessiveness

Yes, it might seem that I have a lot of crazy stored up, or maybe not even stored, maybe just spraying copiously in every direction. I certainly can understand why, if you were reading this, that you might form such an impression, based either on this content or its prevailing themes. There is a certain excessiveness to everything I’ve written here, and well there might be. Imagine, for a moment, that you formed an undertaking, in which you agreed to a whole lot of stuff on the understanding that you would be supported in that, and then you weren’t. Imagine that, instead, you were actively excluded, undermined, refused assistance, misdirected, and denied resources and support. And then, imagine that this went on and on, not just for months, but for years. Imagine that this became so entrenched a state of affairs that you realised it wasn’t just an undertaking anymore, it was now the permanent prevailing condition of your entire life. Wouldn’t you, too, feel utterly betrayed? Moreso if the parties to that undertaking were the kinds of persons who are commonly understood to be held to the highest levels of accountability, and yet they have behaved in deviously dishonest concert to fuck you over comprehensively? Yes, I know this is only one telling of an entire marvellously complex story, and that there are very many alternative tellings as well. But this isn’t just a story, is it? This is my actual life, as I must live it, as I have lived it for weeks, months, years. And until this story is confronted by actual evidence that disproves this particular telling, then there is no reason why I should protect the vile deceptions that have been enacted in the arena of my everyday existence. Until there is evidence of real support, of undertakings being met in both the spirit and the law in which they were formulated, then why should I pretend otherwise? Why should I act like an ordinary person whose life follows the established order in which agreements are kept and effort is rewarded? Why should I debase myself further with the mockery of pretense? This retching bitterness permeates every moment of falsehood that I am forced to live through by your multiple and repeated failures to fulfil even the most basic of your responsibilities towards me. And no, I will not pretend otherwise, not even if that means I blog like a crazed, raving banshee foretelling my own doom. Because, if only this is true, it is true: my right to pure expression of my absolute rage at the liberties you have taken against me will be guarded and respected as absolutely sacrosanct, or I am already doomed, and so are you. All of you. Therefore nothing I write here matters, and everything I write here matters more critically than anything else that I do, or have done, day and night, for years. This is not the fragile thread that holds up my universe, but it is the thread that holds up yours.