Someone left the flat below at about that time and it’s been empty since. I didn’t bother to go check if my computer screens are working again now.

Btw, posting from this Android is now was briefly getting interfered with too. I was able to use it unhindered at Starbucks for a while, a place where I could work and feel safe, part of the world, feel normal AND… sometimes change passwords, unseen.

I bought that tablet without the locals having spotted it, took the train to elsewhere, paid cash for my train ticket, paid cash for the tablet. It was a steal, at 50% of its market value, just because it was used. I probably have the cost of living crisis to thank for that, because a lot of people here are desperate and all they do is whip up each other’s despair instead of help empower each other.

One day, I walked in and a young blond woman behind the counter greeted me with a shocking level of hate, sort of the same ice cold hate that that guy called Ashley greeted me with last week, at Cash Converters, no idea why. Okay, worse, probably.

The next time I visited that Starbucks, it got interfered with, this tablet. I was gutted. Too fucking crazy for words.

The tablet that I showed you, Ashley, on the other hand, was a decoy. I did sell it to someplace else and lost no money on it.

(I simply got fed up with the bizarre nonsense of needing a decoy tablet in this fucked-up crazy town, Ashley. Have you ever traveled off Portsea Island, dude? Do you know what the world is like outside of this little island enclave off the coast of England? Or course not. You live in a tiny bubble in which any female manager is only the manager in name, for the stats, but has zero power.)

But let’s be fair, these folks – like this Ashley dude – somehow have been gaslighted about me. There’s just no way that complete strangers can hate a person they know nothing about that fiercely completely out of the blue.

(No wonder I have hated Portsmouth so much. No wonder people here thought that I was the crazy one.)

Same thing probably happened when I volunteered at the Covid vaccination effort late in 2021. Why did so many people there think that I was (basically) senile even though none of them knew me? Makes no sense.

I’d seen that John guy before. On his bike. Maybe half a year earlier.

Twice. I noticed him because the first time he saw me, he smiled at me as if he knew me. Or at least knew who I was. Recognized me. The next time he saw me, he ignored me. Maybe he simply hadn’t seen me, that second time. Both times, I had been on my way to Asda.

Don’t know exactly when that was, but it was after I had posted a video about local politics or written about it. Back then, I figured that that is why he thought he knew me and smiled at me.

You know, when someone gets deliberately isolated by some evil person out there, you start noticing certain things much more. Because you have so few interactions. You notice and remember things you would not have paid any attention to whatsoever in a normal context.

Why couldn’t I get anyone to let me volunteer in 2020 and why couldn’t I get access to any of the local Covid Facebook groups back then, only a tiny one for some small village elsewhere? Why couldn’t I reach almost anyone else around here back then?

Everyone around here always whines about how they don’t have enough of this kind of staff or that kind of staff or that kind of services or this kind, but when you think that you can do something about it and make yourself useful, it almost always turns out to be no more than the usual whining that has become part of people’s identity around here. There is no actual need. It’s just whining. It’s just stuff to fill up Facebook and newspaper space with.

For nearly 15 years, I’ve had little more than horrible abuse in this town. It makes no sense. I knew nobody here and nobody here knew me. Where did all that bizarre hate come from? It just makes no sense. None whatsoever.

No matter where I went in this town, no matter what I did. It always reared its ugly head. Even though I wasn’t always aware of it at first, such as at that community leadership course in 2010.

Who had been gaslighting all these people about me? Because that is what must have happened.

Who exactly in this town is that unstable and evil one? That’s for them to figure out. Me, I couldn’t care less.

Because the gaslighting still has exposed this town’s soul to me, hasn’t it. The level of hate I’ve encountered here is beyond belief, after all.

Most people here show no reticence at all when they target someone who they’ve been made to believe is going senile or is learning-disabled or has some other kind of circumstance going on that they think makes it unlikely that the person will fight back.

That’s despicable, Portsmouth, gaslighting or no gaslighting.

Meanwhile, I continue to get lots of emails for how to pay less to unleash my secret genius if only I sign up quickly. Last-minute deals. I don’t need no unleashing of my secret genius. I just want my life back. That’s genius enough for me, thank you very much.

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