| Thurs 2 July 09 Turners FallsI’ve used this title in other blogs, since way back in the beginning, when the animals were first taken. The blackworld without them, without the way of life I knew for 55 years.
A year ago today, Matthew told me people wanted to kill me. You can believe he’s a liar, you can believe he’s an agent, whatever. But I believed him when he told me this, and I believed he was a detective or agent of some kind. He went on to tell me later in July that I was being protected by the FBI. And thus began the last year of high anxiety, tension, unanswered questions, delayed grief, waiting for the protectors to locate me somewhere (that’s all I ever knew about federal protection: you couldn’t choose your own place to live).
And Matthew, whoever or whatever you believe he is, left me month after month after month in this homelessness, knowing perfectly well that I was waiting for his people to show me where they wanted me. He’s still here, hasn’t gone back to his own town and his real home, and I don’t know what that means. And I haven’t had an apartment for almost 16 months. What all this does to my Asperger’s symptoms, to my PTSD and depression and anxiety, I’ll leave for you to try to imagine, to try to empathize with. If you have that capacity.
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