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Exurb1a violated the bro code and stuck his d1ck in crazy

Demon, self portrait (2015). Blacklight (indirect) reflective light painting.

Slut. Whore.
I see the words, but don't understand the link I should have to them.
Especially not considering the rapist is the one who said he slept with around 50 people in his life.  

I've been only sexually intimate with 2 people these last 7 years. One was my ex-coworker and rapist (Exurb1a), the other, the father of my child. And to the latter, I was married to for many years. Since I was 19. 

But now, people who don't know me at all, call me a person who sleeps around. Because I spoke out, and tried to warn others about my rapist and tried to protect myself, due to fear of character assassination. Blackmail and threats will make you do things you never thought you'd do. For example, tell everyone the things you are most ashamed of. 

I look at the comments on the page I found after googling both Exurb1a's and my own name; I had hoped our podcast website would show up, and maybe some youtube videos, but instead, I'm seeing Reddit threads.

My clients can find this. My clients have found this.

How many people now believe I sleep around?

Ever since January, acquaintances from my old schools have been reaching out. To send support, and, to ask if they could take me out, when I got 'out'. On a date. While they knew I was hospitalised.  

Did these guys who never asked me out before, suddenly take an interest in me because they thought I'd be easy? Because people online have been calling me a tramp?
 
A comment on the page catches my eye:
"Exurb1a violated the bro code and stuck his Dick in crazy and is now facing the consequences"

Stuck his dick in crazy. I'm not even a person or name anymore. I'm turned into an adjective, performing as a noun. As far as identifying the noun is possible in this sentence, I can say it's something with a hole. An object. A thing. Apparently, it's who I am. What I am.

I'm reduced to nothing more than a crazy lump of flesh with a fuck-hole.

Great.

Especially great considering Exurb1a was the one who told me he suffered from a sleep-walking disorder and hallucinations as a result of it, and that he spent a year in bed because he went 'crazy'.

It would be accurate to call Exurb1a a crazy slut, if you had the above information. But me?

I read the sentence again.

"Exurb1a violated the bro code and stuck his Dick in crazy.." 
 
Dick with a capital letter. In this sentence referring to, Exurb1a's dick.
Well, they got that wrong.

I'm trying to make myself laugh to give the words less meaning, but it doesn't help. There's nothing to laugh at.

Nope. Still doesn't help.

Other people won't know all these things, and don't understand the irony. They'll still think I'm a slut. I can laugh and cry all I want, but it will do no good. Silence brought me trouble. Speaking brought me some more. And now, these adjectives and nouns scattered online, try to define me. They try to convince people they explain, who I am, as a person. There's even a voting system on some of these sites; so popular and shared opinions can end up on top. Many people don't know votes can be manipulated or that Exurb1a has been caught manipulating them in the past.

I read the comments below the dick-comment from TheNASAguy who claims to have spoken to me. Someone tells them they need to grow up for making that comment, a person who then gets accused of being me, because they seemingly seem to stand up for me.

I check the person's page (Ratsinhats) that called TheNASAguy a child, and see they've been on Reddit for 2 years, and made their account far before I even met Exurb1a, and at some point even owned a cat. I'm allergic to cats. No-meow.

Ratsinhats is not me, and I'm not them. It doesn't matter for people on the internet (Exurb1a's fans) though. People who want to discuss the things that have been happening between Exurb1a and I, or even dare to take a side, are called 'Pieke'. First Exurb1a tried to break me. Now, his fans.

They, and possibly Exurb1a's alt(ernative) anonymous accounts, are feeding the idea that I'm crazy, by calling me crazy; by accusing everybody that defends me of being me. They are making it look like people don't condemn Exurb1a's behaviour, or question him, by doing so. And, that I'm some kind of woman who turns up in every thread to defend herself anonymously.

And people read this. They read I'm a slut, that I'm crazy, online trying to make drama, and that I'm a fame- and money whore. While I de-monetized my videos and took advertisements off my website, the moment I spoke out.

While Exurb1a is the one who wants to sell T-Shirts and merchandise of his brand, so he can make "quick money" (quote). And, not to forget, is the person who's asking people online to donate him money (Patreon).

Exurb1a has his fans pay for his (self claimed) alcohol-, smoke- and drug addiction, while he told me he has a terrible disease (so I wouldn't press charges), and should stay far away from drugs, drinking and smoking, due to it.

But his fans online call me a liar instead, a drug abuser, and money whore. While they are literally funding a lying addict, who proudly celebrates his cocaine, nicotine, weed, alcohol and ketamine abuse, publicly, in his videos. Is he even really sick, or did he make that up too? He asked me to not talk about it with other people because he said he only told me and his ex girlfriend. It's a great way to keep a lie alive; by asking someone to keep it secret. When I asked another girl who knew him about it, she said she knew about his disease too. So I know he lied to me about that..

I look at the pile of papers I've been organising for my police appointment. Print screens of Skype, Facebook and Whatsapp messages, are scattered around the table. Pages from my medical report; where nurses described my days, and how my ex-boyfriend who was harassing me was affecting my mental state. A letter from my psychiatrist written for the police; describing which diagnoses they gave me, and which medication I received and why, and how long I was committed (7 months).

Acute stress disorder, depressive disorder, and autism spectrum disorder.

But these words seem not to matter
to people online who can only blather
that all I am is but a cunt
a psychotic slut
that people should hunt
 
They call me whiny bitch that wants to get rich
A slutty Mary
Second name Jane
A drama queen playing a game
A borderline bint going insane
 
Those enrolled in pop psychology
Really think they can diagnose me  
they repeat and scream and shout my name
soak me in mud as if I wanted fame

As if the truth did not harm me
enough already
They just spin and rape
every part of
my story

They give me diagnoses my
doctors never gave me  

Shot in the air
Like confetti  
Welcome to my pixel party
Digital bullets
Only aimed to hurt
Here's where people cover my name in dirt

As if those words do not affect my life and mind
I am learning now people are not so kind
To care and protect you when you are low
Not that I did not already know

Because when you raped me behind my ears and eyes
Not giving a damn about all my cries  
Yes
That was the night that made me realise
That kindness really quickly dies
When you set boundaries
And dare to say no
People will use this to make you their foe
A bint, a slag, a hooker, a hoe
Someone only in it for dough

A body made of blood and bones
A hole to fuck with sticks and stones
A thing made of only rotting flesh

An inconvenience
For this so-called-genius

And now your fans have me for breakfast too while
You had me for dinner
And now you have me, for life

Yes
I am starting to believe
That maybe I was never
meant to survive
 

Timeline of Events Inside the System
Inside the System is a blog series about mental health, being hospitalised, fellow patients, and the things I've experienced last few months. I started to write because I had no idea how to deal with what was happening, and because I wanted something I could read back, that would remind me where I never want to be again in my life, emotionally. 
The Inside The System series is part of Project Blue is a Wave.

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