Black Widow Psycho SNARFF

I’m probably moving into yet another disastrous situation waiting to happen. One of the new roommates is a psycho and so is the other. There are at least two types of psycho chicks. There is the friendly artist type who is playful with an unpredictable spontaneity that can be trying at times to work with and be around, but in the end does the right thing with usually a pleasant surprise or two. This type of psycho chick makes the best friends and you always know what they think and are up to. Then there is the Black Widow Psycho Cunt-bitch whose mission it is, is to lure you into her web however she can and engulf your own web or bed or both and make it hers. She will then sever your connections one by one until you no longer have your own life to live.
There are two types of the Black Widow Psycho Cunt-bitch variety, non-lethal and lethal. Most are non-lethal, but as society collapses around us, scarcity becomes more apparent and the value of life diminishes, more of the lethal types with manifest themselves. Many begin as the non-lethal types and their first kill is sort of an accident, but they like it and want to do it again, and again and again.
The non-lethal types only want to get you to the edge of ruin and suicide, but will keep you well enough not to go through with the final deed and instead will manipulate your reality for years and make you her unaware emotional slave. The non-lethal types are the most cruel and usually have money already. There are in it as much for the game as they are for the stuff and people. It’s more like your life becomes their sociopathic art project with their words and actions the tools of implementation to paint your life black.
The lethal Black Widow Psycho Cunt-bitch wants you to die as quickly and efficiently as possible and you may never even have sex with her, or know it is her and her friends. They will take up all of your time and waste all of your resources as your life dives into a vortex of turbulent despair and excruciating painful wasted effort. Her friends may not even realize what they are participating in as they were prepped and told from the beginning that you are in a fragile state and could snap and fall at any moment. In retrospect they laugh at her apparent bad taste in men. Little do her friends know that each of you basket cases were carefully chosen for the sport, kind of like fox hunting, only you’re the fox.
More and more suicide is becoming the weapon of choice. It began with Picasso and Casagemas, and has grown in popularity ever since. Love, sex and trust are their weapons of choice and your death is their ultimate objective, be it figurative or literal. While local and Federal governments expend millions of dollars to investigate over 30,000 murders on an annual basis, killers run free everyday, many not ever investigated. With the suicide rate of society rapidly eclipsing the murder rate, exactly zero of those suicides go investigated for foul play.
A common scenario; You experience a tragic betrayal and loss leading to financial ruin and abandonment by family and friends. Emotional turmoil followed by a long and deep depression in which you question your reason for being and contemplate the world without you. You get a glimpse of George Bailey around the end of December and your mind starts racing. They find you in a room locked from the inside with a note, facebook posting and accouterments du jure. There are no suspects and seemingly nothing to investigate. It’s the perfect murder.
Your death represents a victory and reason to party. They will wear red to your funeral and throw a soirée that night to celebrate your passing with indulgent glee. All of your friends, frienimies, enemies and business associates will be there as well as any former lovers they can scrape up. This is their final and grand performance. Anybody whoever had a good thought about you will be invited and with a gang-like strategy, they will seek them out and slander you in such a way that everyone who leaves that night will have reason to believe that you had them fooled all along and are indeed a horrible person with the world a better place without you in it. They will bow their heads and nod back and forth wondering how someone like you could fall so far so quickly. Little do they know that on the other side of the room are those who paved your path and made everything easy to ensure your fall was steep, fast and deadly.
A string of many people will parade through your life and never hear a word you have to say because they just nod and smile politely waiting for you to move on, so they can take what you have to offer them and move on without any reciprocation. You are their meat your gullible nature is their target. The prize ? Your life.
It’s possible I’ve been living with handlers for years. First my wife, then a string of others, passing me off from one to another like a game of hot potato. I look back on the time vine for the ripe fruit of a year spent with Jessiqa and every memory is laced with bitterness. People who know me, like me. I’m friendly and nice, or at least I used to be, which is a deadly combination in San Francisco. Mix those elements with a state of desperation and that’s the perfect mixture for targeting and victimization. Compared to the last seven years of my nightmarish living situations, this seems like a well-deserved reprise, however short it may be.

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