Something That Won't Go Away

When I arrived home, sure enough, a little travelling suitcase was waiting for me at the doorway. So was my dog. Kids weren't there, Husband wasn't there, father-in-law wasn't there. But my mother sure was, along with Creep! Brilliant!

I'm starting to wonder something. If I had been referring to him as Creep since I started my blog back in 2000, would he still be up my ass constantly, today? Sadly I think the answer is yes.

I had left my backpack from work on the porch before coming into the house. When Creep jumped out of his chair to take me to hell, I asked if I could bring my computer along. My mother seemed pissed off immediately, but Creep asked why I would need it. "Well, I have to get work done there. Probably while you're sleeping off the treatments," I replied with a small smile. I didn't think it was going to work, but Creep assumed that he was going to sleep after I let him fuck his brains whatever, since he has no brains, out. And he allowed me to bring my computer along. I assumed my mother was going to have one of her friends probe it, to see how much money Husband and I had, by one of her computer-savvy friends. A friend who would "make a mistake" and fuck up my computer royally, and I'd be left with the damaged goods.

I gathered up the computer, cord and the little pencil case that I had packed the night before, and went back downstairs. My suitcase was already in Creep's car. I air kissed my mother good bye, shut the door, grabbed my backpack and hurried to Creep's car, jumping in the backseat. He was surprised. "What are you doing back there?" he asked. "You're not going to fondle me at all while we go through this," I said. He started to say something. "And you can fuck me when you love me," I added. He seemed to wither at that statement, and backed the car out of the driveway.

I tucked my computer and cords into my backpack, stuffed the pencil case in the pocket. I had prepared for this little trip last night. If I absolutely had to do this, I was going to play by my own rules.

Creep has taken me right where I thought he would: His property on the lake. I found it pretty funny because he and my best friend Matt picked out this place when Creep was pretending to be gay.

My mother explained to me that I had to come on this trip to get Creep stable to live alone, something he has never done in his miserable life, but now has to since he's alienated his family and friends for that rancid invalid who abused us and he clung to since she occasionally sent him movies of her over-grown vagina in action. The whole story came out in the open (no pun intended) about a year ago when she started faking cancer and dying within a year or so. Fed up, Creep finally walked away from her after nine years of us having to put up with her abuse. By then, what few family and friends he had had either died or disowned him. I was one of the latter.

Creep wants to go back to his "old life" and show us that he is the person he was pre-April 2002, and get back to his old profession, clandestinely writing love songs to me and dedicating performances to me. However, it seems odd that according to his blog, and the voice messages I listened to on his phone, the dumb shit uses his widely know birthday as his password everywhere on everything, I am dead and he's no monster, his living friends and family are SEW MEEEEN and not speaking to him now that he's reaching out to them, how insane and fucked up they are for ditching him "when he's down" after he took the side of an abusive bitch who was harassing us by posting "anonymously" about us online, gave pictures of me to my stalker, told my stalker where my new website was, and forwarded it my emails to her, and the best of all ........ In Creep's blog, I am dead, and he wasn't allowed to go to my funeral, so he's going to have this memorial show for me on the top of the Tower on September 29th, or the day that his youngest son, another person he blew off to be with that bitch, was diagnosed as terminal, all to raise money to purchase head stones for his two sons, his dead dog, and I.

Hello?

Are you still there? Or was the drama too much for you?

I think I condensed six years worth of drama into that last paragraph. You had to be there to experience it. I frequently wrote about the "anonymous" who trolled me on my blog. Those entries are private now, so you can't read them there anymore.

I have CDs full of his chat logs with this bitch. I let him use my old computer to talk to her, and it secretly saved the chats. He spilled things that I had told him in confidence to her, without her even asking for them. He volunteered pictures of me to her. Sent her pictures and videos of me. Printed out photos of me for her. Sent her flowers on my credit card, because it was my computer and the info all posted instantly to the "billing" page. Lied about me. Left away messages that he knew she would read, waxing poetic about his forbidden love for me. Ranted and raved with rage that I married his "fat, loser brother" instead of him. Bragged, when the goings got tough, that he took my virginity. The lies. The stories. The fake domains. It was all so much and it seems to never end! After reading that these past couple of days, I didn't want to help. Fuck him. Diabetes can be figured out. Not every middle-aged man with it needs a three-week live-in with a private nurse that they have been lusting for since she was ten years old.

Needless to say, I don't want to do this. But I do want to keep the peace in the family and my own little group of friends. I have asked people to start sending me their sides of the story with links to this blog. I sent questions. I asked for answers. I don't expect to get any, but they have been asked. I think Creep does need a shut in for three weeks - in an psychiatric hospital. How could he do these things to me, and then wonder why I never loved him truly? I may never know.

The good part is that we're not going to stay at this lake for the full three weeks. I agreed on until Sunday because I have to go to New York Monday night and be home Wednesday afternoon. People are expecting me there, and I can't let them down. So Creep wants to spend those last couple of weeks at my place. Sure. Why not? My bedroom door has an internal latch-lock and an adjourning bathroom, and Josh has since trained me in firearms and I studied up on barbiturate mixtures. I think I can handle myself at home. I also insisted that Husband and the kids meet us up at this lake house, and have a little vacation of their own. I'm going to make it in to work this week, with three days off next week, and Chloe will make it to school all this week and next week.

No worries.

Just the annoying fact that people in my family still think I am a nurse and treat me as one. I am no longer a nurse! Just because I kept my RN card updated doesn't mean I really want to be one anymore.

G'Night all you happy people.

When I arrived home, sure enough, a little travelling suitcase was waiting for me at the doorway. So was my dog. Kids weren't there, Husband wasn't there, father-in-law wasn't there. But my mother sure was, along with Creep! Brilliant!

I'm starting to wonder something. If I had been referring to him as Creep since I started my blog back in 2000, would he still be up my ass constantly, today? Sadly I think the answer is yes.

I had left my backpack from work on the porch before coming into the house. When Creep jumped out of his chair to take me to hell, I asked if I could bring my computer along. My mother seemed pissed off immediately, but Creep asked why I would need it. "Well, I have to get work done there. Probably while you're sleeping off the treatments," I replied with a small smile. I didn't think it was going to work, but Creep assumed that he was going to sleep after I let him fuck his brains whatever, since he has no brains, out. And he allowed me to bring my computer along. I assumed my mother was going to have one of her friends probe it, to see how much money Husband and I had, by one of her computer-savvy friends. A friend who would "make a mistake" and fuck up my computer royally, and I'd be left with the damaged goods.

I gathered up the computer, cord and the little pencil case that I had packed the night before, and went back downstairs. My suitcase was already in Creep's car. I air kissed my mother good bye, shut the door, grabbed my backpack and hurried to Creep's car, jumping in the backseat. He was surprised. "What are you doing back there?" he asked. "You're not going to fondle me at all while we go through this," I said. He started to say something. "And you can fuck me when you love me," I added. He seemed to wither at that statement, and backed the car out of the driveway.

I tucked my computer and cords into my backpack, stuffed the pencil case in the pocket. I had prepared for this little trip last night. If I absolutely had to do this, I was going to play by my own rules.

Creep has taken me right where I thought he would: His property on the lake. I found it pretty funny because he and my best friend Matt picked out this place when Creep was pretending to be gay.

My mother explained to me that I had to come on this trip to get Creep stable to live alone, something he has never done in his miserable life, but now has to since he's alienated his family and friends for that rancid invalid who abused us and he clung to since she occasionally sent him movies of her over-grown vagina in action. The whole story came out in the open (no pun intended) about a year ago when she started faking cancer and dying within a year or so. Fed up, Creep finally walked away from her after nine years of us having to put up with her abuse. By then, what few family and friends he had had either died or disowned him. I was one of the latter.

Creep wants to go back to his "old life" and show us that he is the person he was pre-April 2002, and get back to his old profession, clandestinely writing love songs to me and dedicating performances to me. However, it seems odd that according to his blog, and the voice messages I listened to on his phone, the dumb shit uses his widely know birthday as his password everywhere on everything, I am dead and he's no monster, his living friends and family are SEW MEEEEN and not speaking to him now that he's reaching out to them, how insane and fucked up they are for ditching him "when he's down" after he took the side of an abusive bitch who was harassing us by posting "anonymously" about us online, gave pictures of me to my stalker, told my stalker where my new website was, and forwarded it my emails to her, and the best of all ........ In Creep's blog, I am dead, and he wasn't allowed to go to my funeral, so he's going to have this memorial show for me on the top of the Tower on September 29th, or the day that his youngest son, another person he blew off to be with that bitch, was diagnosed as terminal, all to raise money to purchase head stones for his two sons, his dead dog, and I.

Hello?

Are you still there? Or was the drama too much for you?

I think I condensed six years worth of drama into that last paragraph. You had to be there to experience it. I frequently wrote about the "anonymous" who trolled me on my blog. Those entries are private now, so you can't read them there anymore.

I have CDs full of his chat logs with this bitch. I let him use my old computer to talk to her, and it secretly saved the chats. He spilled things that I had told him in confidence to her, without her even asking for them. He volunteered pictures of me to her. Sent her pictures and videos of me. Printed out photos of me for her. Sent her flowers on my credit card, because it was my computer and the info all posted instantly to the "billing" page. Lied about me. Left away messages that he knew she would read, waxing poetic about his forbidden love for me. Ranted and raved with rage that I married his "fat, loser brother" instead of him. Bragged, when the goings got tough, that he took my virginity. The lies. The stories. The fake domains. It was all so much and it seems to never end! After reading that these past couple of days, I didn't want to help. Fuck him. Diabetes can be figured out. Not every middle-aged man with it needs a three-week live-in with a private nurse that they have been lusting for since she was ten years old.

Needless to say, I don't want to do this. But I do want to keep the peace in the family and my own little group of friends. I have asked people to start sending me their sides of the story with links to this blog. I sent questions. I asked for answers. I don't expect to get any, but they have been asked. I think Creep does need a shut in for three weeks - in an psychiatric hospital. How could he do these things to me, and then wonder why I never loved him truly? I may never know.

The good part is that we're not going to stay at this lake for the full three weeks. I agreed on until Sunday because I have to go to New York Monday night and be home Wednesday afternoon. People are expecting me there, and I can't let them down. So Creep wants to spend those last couple of weeks at my place. Sure. Why not? My bedroom door has an internal latch-lock and an adjourning bathroom, and Josh has since trained me in firearms and I studied up on barbiturate mixtures. I think I can handle myself at home. I also insisted that Husband and the kids meet us up at this lake house, and have a little vacation of their own. I'm going to make it in to work this week, with three days off next week, and Chloe will make it to school all this week and next week.

No worries.

Just the annoying fact that people in my family still think I am a nurse and treat me as one. I am no longer a nurse! Just because I kept my RN card updated doesn't mean I really want to be one anymore.

G'Night all you happy people.