Read It And Weep (from MySpace)
Current mood: compassionate
Category: Romance and Relationships
Ken began publicly posting the most outrageous things about me on an internet dating site in 2003. All untrue. All the poisoned fruit of his imagination. The bizarre machinations of (his) own mind. His words, not mine.
He justified his attack by saying that it wasn't personal - just words on a screen. As a fiction writer, he was used to dealing with imaginary characters, and none of us on the site had any reality for him, apart from our posts. He was captivated by me. I was, he said, the heroine of the book he was working on. Somehow, I morphed into a malignant cyberstalker. And yes, again I am saying, no one can make this shit up. I have all the posts - his and mine.
My post below was a response to one of his early attacks. It was written two years ago.
Author: bellecurve
Username: bellecurve
Date: 01/20 01:39pm
Your post eloquently expounds on the conflict between illusion and reality. But it is your conflict, not ours. Alcohol fuels your depression and rage, and many great artists and writers before you have succumbed to it. Loneliness, encroaching old age, loss of friends and family, a precarious income and the frustration of being a writer without readers, a playwright without an audience could drive even the sanest person mad. You say you are toying with us, but your friends see you clearly, even in cyberspace. What we see is a brilliant but tormented man vainly pretending that he's manipulating others for his own purposes. Suicide, depression, bipolar disorders and - of course - alcoholism are much more common among artists in general and writers in particular. Because they are afraid, often with good reason, that medication will make them zombies and interfere with their ability to create, they deliberately avoid treatment. They choose art over life. I hope you can turn away from the edge of the abyss and find your way back
Current mood: compassionate
Category: Romance and Relationships
Ken began publicly posting the most outrageous things about me on an internet dating site in 2003. All untrue. All the poisoned fruit of his imagination. The bizarre machinations of (his) own mind. His words, not mine.
He justified his attack by saying that it wasn't personal - just words on a screen. As a fiction writer, he was used to dealing with imaginary characters, and none of us on the site had any reality for him, apart from our posts. He was captivated by me. I was, he said, the heroine of the book he was working on. Somehow, I morphed into a malignant cyberstalker. And yes, again I am saying, no one can make this shit up. I have all the posts - his and mine.
My post below was a response to one of his early attacks. It was written two years ago.
Author: bellecurve
Username: bellecurve
Date: 01/20 01:39pm
Your post eloquently expounds on the conflict between illusion and reality. But it is your conflict, not ours. Alcohol fuels your depression and rage, and many great artists and writers before you have succumbed to it. Loneliness, encroaching old age, loss of friends and family, a precarious income and the frustration of being a writer without readers, a playwright without an audience could drive even the sanest person mad. You say you are toying with us, but your friends see you clearly, even in cyberspace. What we see is a brilliant but tormented man vainly pretending that he's manipulating others for his own purposes. Suicide, depression, bipolar disorders and - of course - alcoholism are much more common among artists in general and writers in particular. Because they are afraid, often with good reason, that medication will make them zombies and interfere with their ability to create, they deliberately avoid treatment. They choose art over life. I hope you can turn away from the edge of the abyss and find your way back
posted by Deeplip at 9:02 AM
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