FOR ALL "THE PEANUT CRUNCHING CROWD," AND FOR YOU, THE ONE WHO WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE: 

 The ENTIRE REASON I posted this is because you popped up with your cheeky portrait. I also received a friend request from someone within 5 degrees of separation from us. Someone you and I may both know. And, because you hacked my blog, my Facebook, my phone, and my email, abusing your technology know-how in the most paranoid, narcissistic, histrionic, malicious, and vitriolic ways possible. I hardly accept any friend requests unless I know them through school, family, a cohort, or, I if can verify who they are through the above. But you still use illegal surveillance to track me because after I unblocked you and saw that you weren't friends, as far as I could tell, with this strange friend request, I quickly remembered that Facebook doesn't allow reblocking for 48 hours. HOW SURPRISED WAS I THEN WHEN I WENT TO CHECK MY PHONE THE NEXT AFTERNOON ONLY TO SEE YOUR CHEEKY portrait picture flash on my screen before disappearing! And then there's the casing, showing up in the Hudson Valley on a day and at an address you could only have known about with tracking? These continued intrusions into my personal life? The soft-spoken Gray wannabe who followed me to the store to get a good look at me? WHY? YOU CAME AFTER ME. YOU ARE THE AGGRESSOR. All I do every day is walk my dog, go to AA meetings, cook, clean, spend time with family and friends, and exercise. STOP with this silly, histrionic fire drill because I checked your friends list against this person's. Grow up. Get a life. Leave me alone. Glad you blocked me first, but then you unblocked me, so I blocked you. You’ll notice I never unblock your husband. Hmmm…. I wonder why?? 

we are grown women, so please stop hacking my life with your “apologies for transgressions.” Just because you can violate someone’s privacy, doesn’t mean you should. Why do criminals work to stop crime, CISO DISCO? You know, when you started live hacking in realtime, long, long ago, I never returned the aggression, because I’m not nosy, a snoop (apparently there’s big money in being a snoop these days) - when you had your transgression apology pop up on a screen I was in, I quickly closed the screen; when you sent me what sounded like the beginning of some poem you attempted, again, I didn’t read past “You were beauty before I knew beauty,” or some nonsense, I closed the screen. This is because, while you excel at cyber ahem, security, my morals and ethics don’t go there. I’ve watched 10 seconds of some YouTube thing you were in back when this all started, and again, was not interested to delve deeper. But, you. You thrive in control and that translates into abusing all that you’ve learned up the ladder of your company to feel superior, to make me feel afraid, that I’m a zoo animal. That I have no privacy.  Stop pretending the obsession is on my end when all along you chose a career based on deep obsessive dives into other people’s web activity. And then when you saw my little blog, you, of course, believed that all my poetry was about you. That is a very convenient reason to justify surveillance and play the victim.

What an ego. Let's be honest: we're all working to resolve childhood issues, especially artists, I have no fucking clue who you are, and I NEVER thought you were some wealthy Bostonian gosh, golly “he’s jealous of the baby?!” Who stays with a man jealous of his own baby?? (Again, your words)…BS that you wrote at me in your "Open Letter." Actually, it's my biological family who built Boston, came over on the Mayflower, among other ships, colonized Virginia northward, attended and taught at Harvard and MIT, so fuck you and your fantasies—go buy a fucking unicorn and leave me alone.  How do you like them apples? In my best Matt Damon Southie Good Will Hunting impression. 

TO BE PERFECTLY CLEAR: When I get a new friend request from someone remotely like you in any way, shape, or form, I unblock you and cross-reference and then block you again because what you did to me destroyed my life. I guess you get off on that and getting off on imagining that I am at all interested in you. Why do you get in my hair, my phone, my life, and all the poems you thought were about you? They were about a multitude of experiences, amagalms, other people and what we went through, yet you keep fucking with me through technology, and maybe the two of you get off on naval gazing and creating this fantasy of triangulation, and ESPECIALLY pretending it's me when it's really been you the entire time. Maybe you imagine that you’re smarter than me? How absolute! How narrow. 

I'm the one who's worried here (I studied education, anthropology and creative writing). I am the innocent one just trying to live with daily harassment. Thanks to you, thousands of people read my blog, my one solace. Did ya like my hair photos? WOW, 5,000 views in 12 hours! That’s attention. 

SO, Carol Channing and Mickey Rourke (Ego) — I am not here for your pleasure. I've never made the first move other than one email to Gray checking in, as we used to do, on that fateful day when it was really you asking the address of this blog. If you only knew... find a new kink. My mother was murdered and you think that was the perfect time to harass me, write disparaging things as out my mother. What kind of humans are you? You robbbed me of the space and solace to grieve. You manipulated my identity by suggesting I cheated on my husband with G - he wishes, since that's what I hear from the horse's mouth. Plus G's readiness to go to battle to remain friends despite MY husband— who's known G and you for decades and knows who you both really are— would never hear of it, not would his friends, who became my friends. Most of them wanted to kill G for what he did to me, heck, hated him before I even met him. You destroyed my privacy, my reputation, you smeared and hyper sexualized me online. You have been taking from me for over 13 years. My life, my little life where you weren't even on my radar until you hacked my blog, wrote disaparraging hurtful things about my relationship with my mother - mocked her love for me - unicorn?! I'm the fucking unicorn. You co-opted my poems to feed your gigantic ego, for kicks. As you well know, it's never been the same since, and what comes around goes around. I'm betting hard. And yes, this is still me, mother fucker. Lighting is everything.