Retrospective

After enduring years of appalling social isolation and extreme systematic ritual abuses I’m significantly damaged but defiantly and most certainly not yet out. A vulgar and profane circus of charade antics formed a ‘Truman bubble” to not only contain but to abstract every occurrence thus overwriting any actuality that dared enter through my vacant, sterilised life. Since the naive and trusting beginnings I’ve learned to read in between the lines of metaphor which insidious perpetrators use to consensually encroach and cast their detriment in deformation of my soul

Those who spread malicious rumours to socially isolate would approach me when I’d become ostracised to associate me with hatred through inciting adverse reaction via a relentless attack of provocation. In this I became aware of the diversity of opinion and leaned to be tolerant of perspective incite in communities in view of my own uniqueness and thus realise that not everybody who in a community who generally doesn’t like me is an enemy that is all out to get me.

I’ve also learned that life is fluid and motion in that even corruption from it’s onset is corruptible. Rumour and gossip resides in ignorance and has no longevity in midst of rationalised reason.