One hundred and seventeen days into this exile and it's all come to me. I have the most splendid dreams when I'm awake... strange and subtle are these Prophecies of the Present. (Forget about the past because everyone else has, and if you talk about it too much (and how much is too much will never be disclosed to you until it's too late and everyone hates you anyway), you have *issues*).

Yeah, I have *issues*. But I have *issues* with the present, thankyouverymuch.

Instigators, Trouble makers, Agents of Provocation- rest easy, all of you. This is not about you. It would be insincere of me to credit you with my life's miseries. We all have our roles to play, and you play yours well and by the book. You are truer and more honest in that regard. And although I might take *issue* with why you have assumed these roles and what rewards you reap, I understand. I truly do. If the shoe fits, buy the whole goddamned shoe store if it pleases you. Brava! And a job well done!

So, no, dear instigators, I am not angry with you. I love your complexities and shadows. It is why I am obsessed with Anais Nin, the persona and person I so dearly love to hate. She intrigues me and compels me, she draws me in.

No, dear Troublemakers, you are not ultimately responsible for my misery. You have done your job and done it well. You have incited the people, worked them into a frenzy, and carefully slipped out the back door.

It is the People, the faces in my life, who have failed me, that have caused the misery, a misery I once tried to fix, one that kept me dancing to your tune, inelegant and crass as it was. And I danced to it- I own that mistake and pay for it even now- but I will not pretend for a second that none of you danced with me and led me on. You wanted to see that dance and jeer at my clumsy moves. You wanted it and got it. Rejoice, all of you, you deserve it.

You listen to these stories, oh dear unwashed masses. You believe every word you hear, even though it comes from one side and one heart. The troublemaker (du jour) has a "heart of gold!" all of you yell. "Oh, how quickly we forget!" I yell back, to deaf ears and darkened eyes.

I, who have never lied to any of you- you who were once close friends or at least friends. I, who never wore masks and pretention and plotted clever deeds. It is I who has to defend myself against untruths and deceit. I am, more than anything, beyond disappointed.

If I may single out one failure in particular, a certain fellow I knew from my youth who, once upon a time, met me eye to eye, and never gave into bullshit, gossip-mongering and unseemly points of view. Mr. Objective, you were, all those years ago. You had no time for drama, games and nonsense. And now, not only do you refuse to even look at me as though I were a credible source for *any* kind of information, you believe the stories too. We were never close, that is true. But what is also true is that deep down inside, at the very base of your belly, is the truth. You fucking know it. We all know it, don't we? And not only do you deny this instinct of honesty within you, I see you kneeling at the altar of the Provocateur. Bow down, oh yes, bow down! And what are your rewards, dear fellow? Tell me what your payment is so I may understand your new-found primitive urges. Do you enjoy your role as underling? I see you, you little shit. Don't think that I don't. And don't you ever, ever even _think_ of saying your hellos or how-are-yous when we might next meet. I will be back in the city next year. Please pray that you don't accidentally run into me because I _will_ smack you down and make your ears bleed with my frantic declarations of Truth. I will give you that honesty which you so richly deserve, dear fellow, whether you want it or not- that, I fucking promise.

I swear to god- I have never before, in my entire stupid life, been mired in so much drama and hypocrisy. Family, friends and acquaintances- I don't make any distinctions among you. If any of you even dare to judge and smite either me or my loved one, I will unleash myself on you. (And I am not doing this under the guise of "good wife". I am doing it for all that is right and just and honourable. I am not the avenging girlfriend, no matter what you've been told)

Go back to your computer-cum-masturbation cubicles, watch some manga or hentai when you get home and chill-the-fuck-out, okay? Find another way to worship the Rouser because I'm not going to be a part of it anymore.

One more word from any of you pieces of shit and I will take you and your sorry lives down.