There is a quote in one of my favorite Tom Petty songs that says, “All the good girls are at home with broken hearts.” These lyrics make me wonder if that’s the reason I was never home.

When I had my last nervous breakdown the conspiracy theories against me were stronger than they’ve ever been. Looking back, I’m disgusted at the level of narcism I had to reach in order to have the fears and fantasies I experienced.

At the end of the day, I Uber/Lyft as much as possible for two months in order to pay for a new laptop. The one I invested in at the start of this writing brigade came from someone I worked with. Someone who previously worked with – We will call him The Shifter for the sake of animosity and because it’s extremely fitting- at another job.

When my head filled with stories of his conspiracies, I shut down all of my internet based agendas and was terrified to use the MacBook I’d devoted my life to for the past two years. A dear person convinced me to invest in a fresh unit.

They’re built to last so I’d have it for years to come. Then it would be mine, not previously owned, and my fears would be squashed. I’m still too terrified to reopen my previous website. I’m using Laura to operate this and get some semblance of my creativity back online. But all systems are lacking.


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