The anti-note. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

If I’ve already posted this, then I’m just being consistent.

I wrote this in the early morning hours of Christmas Eve. No wait. It’s marked 12-25. I mean gosh. Merry Christmas to me. Alice had come to the night before at 3 am, but she was still in an early form.

I’m posting this to try to express just how much emotional pain I was in. The anxiety, the nervousness, the utter soul-gripping FEAR. I was still dealing with insomnia. And I was scared the emotional pain would kill me. That I’d die in the back room and someone would find my corpse, unsure of what happened. I wondered what my obituary would say. I wanted to set the record straight. I figured all my entries on Prosebox would explain it.

I left this note on the closed lid of Tina, my new laptop. Seemed like the best spot. Ruby Red is my other laptop.

12-25-2020

PIN: (censored)
Prosebox & Facebook should be open. To notify.
Other passwords in back of green notebook.
Ruby: (censored)
Everything goes to Tashina, my wife.
-Timothy (censored)
TSC
AKA: Alice
P.S.: No suicide. I fought to the end.

…Gosh, I wish I could have one day where I’m not thinking or discussing this in some way shape or form. … :: sniffles a little :: I was in bed headwriting a potential entry discussing the physical pain I experienced in graphic detail. Then I realized “Why am I mentally torturing myself?” (As a gentle reminder, there was no blood. I got “lucky”. :: sighs sadly at the expression :: Any form of rape isn’t lucky.)

I’m “getting better”, but there’s still these random moments of sadness. Like mourning myself. I know I’ll never be the same again, and… that’s sad. : ( It’s tiring to have to keep fighting every day. Well, at least I’m getting SOME sleep every night now…

I hope you’re never raped.

Gosh, that statement, “I fought to the end.” I hate that I’m still having to fight. It’s mentally and physically taxing…

Last updated January 17, 2021