This.

When you are a target of sadistic stalking, the only thing waiting for you around every corner is more hate, more sadism, more sabotage.

Because.

Because there is someone out there whose head is not screwed on right and who decided to target you.

Because.

You may not even know who it is.

And there is not even one person in the world willing to help you escape from that nightmare.

For him – them, in my case, as it concerns two people and an army of flying monkeys – it is no more than a game.

A curiosity as to whether or not you will end up committing suicide.

That is the kind of game they play.

“What will it do if I cut it? Scream its head off? Wimper?”

That is the game. Sadistic stalking. Nothing about it is humorous.

It is just a deep hate or contempt mixed with curiosity aimed at a woman who passed her future stalker in the street, perhaps, on the way to buy some simple groceries, leading her life without harming a fly.

 

Another one of these came in two days ago. It concerns the business e-mail address and website that I lost at the end of August (see below) for the business I lost at the end of September. Sadism. “Nobody is hearing you. You are screaming into the wilderness. You are a nothing. We have successfully destroyed you.”

On its own, it would mean zilch, of course. Combined with all the hate I have been bombarded with in the past 12.5 years, and in the context of having lost access to that e-mail address followed by the deletion of files on my computers… a totally different story. 

Been wondering also for a while about the diane and diana stuff. (Say it out loud.)

Could be just a coincidence. Like all the other coincidences that weren’t coincidences? Who’s to say?

“You’re an Ann.”

I am named after my grandmother. I am Anna.

Sadism.

 

 

 

 

There were about two weeks at the end of 2009 when the stalking seemed to have a purpose. That is what the stalker suggested. (I didn’t know yet who was really behind it.) For some reason, the stress and pressure made me recall a childhood incident the emotions of which I had buried or forgotten. (There was a lot of stupid and confusing talk from my parents, particularly my mother, at the time as well as a really stupid ignorant thing that they did, that I had remembered, but I didn’t know what surrounded it. I was just a few years old. I had no context for what they did and said.) That is the kind of thing that sometimes happens to people. It gives you new insights. They are interesting. Not life-shattering. (My stalker kept suggesting that I had been sexually abused as a child, by the way.)

 

But since then, everything my stalkers have done has been malicious. Sadism. Nasty.

What will it take to stop these two stalkers, the people who have identified themselves as SH and CH to me?

They must have a huge number of past victims. The idea makes my heart break, but the idea that they would wreck many more people after me is worse. (I happen to know about one of those past victims, though it may also concern yet another bullshit story that I have been fed. Hard to tell.) I wish we could all connect and share the horrors of what our stalkers did to us. Because it would help. Me too.

As things stand, nobody will lift a finger unless one or both of my stalkers attack me and I get seriously injured or killed.

It’s not right. 

Writing this post was followed by this below. Genuine? Perhaps. Sure. (For starters, being stalked and hacked causes a lot of people to delete all your communications.)

But my 12.5 year stalking experience tells me that there is a roughly 80% chance that it is not as I have also received plenty of spoofed messages from people like Hank that weren’t actually from those people and I’ve even had Harvard University dropping by on – or should I say “in” – my phone. 

 

2 thoughts on “This.

  1. Ha, coincidentally timed with Dominic Cummings’ demise. How interesting! I guess I picked up the vibe in the air.

    First there was talk about him leaving No. 10 around Christmas. But he’s needed to pack his bags today, this possibly modern-day version of Rasputin.

    For those of you who wonder, all of this – my talk about being stalked and me going to kill my stalkers – is pure fiction of course. Everybody knows that there is no such thing as women being stalked. There is no question about it. That is all pure fiction, only exists in books and films, does not occur in real life. You could ask around in Portsmouth for years and years and everyone would tell you that my stalkers do not exist or even anyone remotely resembling either of them. It’s all pure fiction.

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  2. Besides suggesting that I was sexually abused as a child, he’s suggested that I have a multiple personality disorder (DID), have kidney disease, have cancer, have narcissistic personality disorder, am bipolar, am autistic and god knows what else.

    (For a while, he seemed to be so convinced that I had DID – and seemed to have no idea that what he was doing was plain wrong – that I have on occasion deliberately walked around like an angry little girl, stamping my feet and keeping my hands in fists. Mostly in 2010, I think; I have done the fist thing a few times later, too. As he seemed to be watching me on the local CCTV a lot, I hoped he would get the message and buzz off. He just did not seem to get it. He did not seem to get anger and fear in other human beings and didn’t seem to get that you can’t just go around doing what he was doing without causing a lot of anger and fear. So I figured that by exaggerating it physically, it might get through to him. Nope. Or rather, provoking my anger was part of his intentions, in retrospect.)

    In reality, I am pretty much plain vanilla, psychologically speaking, as boring as it may appear. I simply don’t like being stalked and hacked and bullied and sabotaged. And I have a decent IQ so am able to put two and two together. And this shit started happening within 24 hours of meeting with someone at his workshop in 2008 and what happened revealed that the person knew what I looked like, on a forum where nobody knew who I was, except now that one particular person.

    Except, English slang was used that I did not recognize until much later so what happened merely seemed bizarre at first. Very strange. Or… quintessentially English?

    Btw, a Dutchwoman who stayed with me in Southsea for about a week in 2009 and undertook some activities on her own (without me accompanying her) had the impression that she was being watched a lot from a particular flat across the street. That surprised me. Among other things, I was being pestered by people in one of the handful of flats above me; they were throwing objects onto my secluded patio – such as a peach cut into the shape of female genitals, candles and flower pots – and someone wrote a slogan on a wall with an arrow to my name, apparently with the intention of causing sexual harassment or worse. I was not amused.

    This is also where and when the “decapitated bird” theme started. It has not stopped yet.

    It is also where and when the first interference with my postal mail took place, but back then, it was still a very minor thing.

    Someone claiming to be from Virgin Media Business visited me and started talking about needing to drill through walls, wanted to see my office. It turned out to be bogus. It may have been the same guy who later (at my next address) pretended to be an Irishman living in Spain with whom I had set up a Skype appointment. I cut that call short when I realized that too many things were not right. (Also, I thought I recognized him as a local person that I had run into a few times. I think he is connected to the person I visited at his workshop. A friend. A very close friend, perhaps. A guy with curly blond hair. Slightly taller than I am – or maybe as tall as I am – and fit-looking.)

    Right now, one of the main flying monkeys pestering me directly appears to be my immediate downstairs neighbour, though he does it in an immensely sneaky way. Cunning. “Does it bother you when I do the laundry?” “No.” and then starts doing the laundry in the middle of the night and apparently often overloading the machine so that it makes a racket. I also used to wake up to the racket of gunfire and what not, but I found a solution for that. he also had a habit of bursting into the staircase staring at me in a really weird way for a while when he heard me walk up or down the stairs, then disappearing again. I don’t know what his connection is to my stalkers. It may simply be “financial remuneration”, though.

    I think that my neighbours on the ground floor have also been pestered a few times within the context of my stalking, but I don’t know what happened (except that someone emptied a large container with ice cream on their doormat once, in October 2016, I think). (My computer/screen froze right now, when I tried to change the year. It initially said “2015” but it was in 2016.)

    Oh, and right after VMB did finally manage to install broadband and telephone – after I had arranged for my address to exist again after it had disappeared from various databases – I got a call from someone claiming to be one of the guys who had installed it. That too turned out to be bogus.

    The brainwashing attempt I was exposed to (trying to make me believe that I had DID and god knows what else), particularly in 2010, was massive. Why would anyone do something like that to another human being? Out of anger to do with his own neuro-atypicality? Anger with regard to how people respond to it? Anger with regard to the fact that society still has so much trouble acknowledging and accommodating the full range of human diversity and tends to blame people for being “difficult” and “naughty” or “ill-behaved” etc as for example appears to observed often by the parents of autistic children?

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