And as the waves crash onto the shores of my beloved bay on a blustery-warm, almost end-of-summer day, so the wind blows through away the remnants of the havocs and hatreds you wreaked, upon every square inch of my world.

It is not that I still writhe in the agony of your countless and sundry tyrannies, it is my astonishment at the brilliance deceitfulness and deliberateness, with which you so expertly executed them, that prompts me to waste my words thoughts on you again.

And as the last of the summer-people roll up the dirty mats outside the glamping monstrosities they rolled into this tiny bay on, so I endeavour to roll up the dusty track upon which I have trudged, in my efforts to expunge the dirty, self-hating demons that set up camp in my person, when I realized who what you were are, and what your mission was is.

It is not that I am regretful of my suffering over these 14 months, for it has brought me to the wisest, fiercely-softest incarnation of me to date, it is that I am bewildered at the calculated depravity with which you pursued orchestrated the demise of my core, in order that you could take from me that which you came for: my stability, my worth; emotional, psychological, intellectual and economic.

And as I pack up my favourite things and sort through turf the last vestiges of you from my being, my home and my worlds, so I prepare, with peace and gratitude, to leave the place and space I escaped you to, for one with nary a trace of your existence… and I leave dispose of you, for good.

And as the Maples and Cottonwoods drop their riotous fall colours, and frost and snow hit the tiny Bay with the same vengeance with which you collided slammed into my being, so I drop the frozen weight of your revile and it shatters on the ground into a million tiny ice crystals.

It is not that they are sharp, broken shards; it is that they have landed on my new ground, formed created frozen images, beautiful, like the hoarfrost I marvel at, fragile, powerful, and vulnerable to the thaw which inevitably occurs, at the end of a period of iciness, frostbite, even.

It is not that you held me hostage for the 14 months since I fully uncovered your sociopathic duplicity imposture and ran limped away, it is that I held myself captive, with self-reproach and other useless recriminations, and it behooves me to end the ‘As Is…’ saga with this, my final message to you:

Your dirty, narcissistic misdeeds have backfired, for I am the exact opposite of what you so purposefully endeavored to tear me down into.

And while I have very little but pity and the DSM diagnoses I normally abhor left for you, I hold myself, in the highest, kindest, esteem.


November 29, 2017.

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