The malice of some woman. Jealous. Empty life. Alcoholic.
A friend in Brooklyn said ‘No wonder he preferred you to her’. People who do this are mentally ill.
I would know this writing anywhere although she has attempted to straighten her dropped curls. The note paper is a complete give away.
Her sister will recognise it as well as Michael.
Tiny minds do tiny things. But the damage caused is unforgiveable. Thankfully I am friendly with a Chief Inspector, who has used his discretion to allocate an officer. They are really busy right now. She can sweat. So can the letting agency who blamed me for the loss of the last tenants.
I am still enjoying English conversation classes. I wish I had started before last summer.
My garden will be beautifully nourished by rain water. It is still raining.
Zoom poetry last night. Chaotic but no one got drunk. Professional poetry events by zoom have an agenda, and no one speaks. It feels odd not to clap. But no chaos.
This day has been long and surreal. My ankle and leg hurt. They should be getting better. The bruising on my back is reducing but is still tender very tender.
My breathing is fairly OK but has been wheezy once or twice.
Realising the reason my life has been so stressed for more than a year is so devastating. It has impacted my health, given me anxiety, and it so from a very sick mind. I know how sick one’s mind has to be to do stuff like that.
I got plans for my neighbourhood yesterday. They want to turn the whole neighbourhood into a smaller Manhatten Island. I am sick to the stomach and everyone I know wants to move away.
I already want to for other reasons, but I’m not well enough to move. And my garden. I love it too much. I could not live in a flat. It would need a roof terrace or something for me to even consider it. But I can’t make a move. Coming here 15 years ago, it took me two years to recover.
I have contacted a local news station to come and do a story about how the planning office screwed me over and I’ve launched a campaign to get planning law changed.
I am so weary. I watered my garden at daybreak again, but dozed afterwards.
Someone tried to get into my Amazon account again. I haven’t used it since I bought a thank you gift for ex neighbours, one of whom spends time writing malicious letters about me.
So I gave it to Michael, but I’m sure it got chucked out. She even wanted to read our emails to each other. That comes from a very sick mind indeed.
And someone is using my Apple ID which I have never used . I keep getting emails about this. One just arrived.
And so it goes. I am enjoying the weather. My brain feels like it might belong to a goldfish. I forget everything within two seconds.
I wrote two articles about George Floyd and how Minneapolis should be a reckoning for the US. The executions of black people by shooting, by suffocation etc has to stop. Long ago it should have stopped.
The Statue Of Liberty should sink her knees weeping, and Monument Valley should crack and crumble. Darkness should cover the sun, and the moon should hide.
The one exception is Michael who is both kind and stupid because he thinks the malice from that woman ended when she left.
That’s in the past he said to me last March. And I thought yes it should be but for some weird reason my new neighbours were hostile by then. I thought the lies told by W were being gossiped by Quay Living.
No, that was too obvious.
I’m no good with malice. I’ve only ever attempted to have a therapeutic relationship with someone in my care.
He was flown home to Australia instead of being turned over to the police. He would have been in jail a long time. But considering the crime, he’s probably in jail in Australia anyway. That was wrong of my bosses and part of the reason I left.
I cannot think like a malicious person. It never occurs to me, the things they do.
I just went to get anti-histamine to try to reduce my swelling. Sometimes histamine over reacts and swelling remains. Another chemical is involved too, I can’t think of it’s name.
I have run cold water over my foot. It is so bruised and painful. The trip to the shop has caused my breathing to deteriorate. I thought for five minutes I would have to call an ambulance. Again.
I don’t recognise my life. But then, it’s been unrecognisable since last December 27 when 12kg of kindling from Amazon came over the fence.
When I told Mike he said that she was concentrating on getting well.
This reminds me of you when your head gets yanked out of the sand.
Dear M,
You were boring. The night you started messaging me I got bored. Went to sleep. You crashed into my bedroom door with a flashlight and woke me and refused to leave.
You seemed so sincere. So I stopped yelling at you to get out and told you to go downstairs. You were so meek in obeying. I got dressed and came down to see what you wanted to talk about. I noticed then it was 3am.
You made me a cup of tea. You were so sweet.
You remembered that I get cold feet. You tried to warm them. I thought that wow, the boring man is a sweet drunk.
I kept trying to send you home. So many times. You made so many excuses to not go. And finally, that thing you shared a house with yanked you back. Abusively. Just how it always referred to you. Idiot. …doesn’t matter, it’s Mike’s… he’s a complete idiot…
Always putting you down behind your back.
The first time I knew you lied was when I asked you if you ever had had a beard. Your eyes travelled to your housemate for guidance…you replied no. But I knew I had seen you with one.
I didn’t like that you groped my legs that early morning/night when I should have been sleeping. I was furious. Of course, I should have told the thing. My mistake. I should have called the police instead of indulging you. The heartache it would have saved.
I asked you to make amends. You didn’t even finish that. But before not finishing, you again molested me and then seduced me. I wanted a spare bed or a blanket, but somehow I ended up in your bed. Although there was another one you could have used. You had entirely separate rooms. You could have used your housemate’s bed.
I did not want sex or to be naked, I wanted sleep. I had already been asleep. No one rapes me since I was raped, so we had consensual sex. It was pretty good considering. And again in the morning and the afternoon.
I felt nothing for you. Especially hearing the fake laugh into your phone to your housemate.
Things happened. Extreme rudeness from the housemate. (I should have told her you had groped my legs and taken me to your bed.)
My friend chucked stuff you promised to dispose of for me over the fence. I was not happy about that. I was cross. Your housemate threw them the next day nearly giving me a head injury.
I made a statement to the police about you. I wish I had never withdrawn it. Never let you take me to your bed twice before I told you about that statement to the police.
I still felt nothing for you. Then you started visiting me. I wanted not to be used. I wanted to be touched but not love.
I liked you. You were kind, thoughtful. Then it got more than talking. I liked it. I liked you.
I was fine when you lied to me. I realised I was better off without a coward, a bullied man.
Then your ex phoned and she was stunned at how much you had opened up to me. She thought I would see you again.
I was fine until you did come back to see me. When I realised your desire for me, I finally fell in love.
And then you became a nightmare. Using me, being lustful. Being lurid in your boredom. I realised the depth of your alcoholism. You looked terrible.
When we coincided at the Custom House, my companion and I moved to be in the sun. Not to avoid you. After all, I had done nothing wrong. You looked like two strangers who decided to share a table because it was crowded. Not even friends or housemates.You gazed me for far too long and often. Those sunglasses don’t suit you. You looked at me in a way that told me everything.
Your friends, Simon Bagnall, Matt Hammond, all of them, enable your alcoholism. They don’t care that you broke my laptop, they just enable you to avoid taking responsibility for your life. All I want is a laptop that works. And someone to help you get sober, which comes through connection.
You will die an early death. Everyone who loved you, hates you now. Your Dad, your ex, me, your housemate hates you too. Her alcoholism is more advanced than yours.
You know she is foul when it is drunk. She was vile after my sister died. Abusive and vile. A drunk. You admitted it that morning at 3am.
Your path is set. Unless you get sober. Get connection in your life. Instead of having your housemate at your tail abusing you, mocking you, making you small.
I wonder if you ever will. Get sober. I’m not actually capable of hate. I just want my laptop replaced or fixed. I’d like the truth to be told.
You said you would tell me what your housemate has over you when you are ready. I’m waiting. You owe me so many amends.
Now I know that your housemate wrote to the next tenants, telling her lies. But they were truly ghastly. They were clearing the shed when I knocked to ask if they needed anything. She looked at me so strangely that I wondered if you had left all my books in the shed. They had my name in them. The ones you said you would take to charity shops. Now I know they got a letter from your housemate. I had a year of acute pain, but the second letter got rid of such cruel people.
The current tenants showed me the letter, and are disgusted that anyone would behave like that.
So less than twenty four hours after Michael Ebsworth arrived to live with me, he left while I went to a neighbour because he was sleeping.
Last night he told me could never be without me. I met him when he lived next door. I thought him boring. One night he got to my bedroom because he wanted to talk to me.
I accepted an apology on the grounds that he help me put things together that I needed around my home. This led to him seducing me. His ‘partner’, unaware of all this, began to be malicious to me because she wrongly assumed I had sent messages on Instagram. I never saw these messages.
Mike then pursued a relationship with me, which was very happy until we were found out. He then lied to me,
Recently I started getting emails from his account but I thought it was the woman, toying with me.
Mike arrived last night. He kept saying it was my home, but I had already assured him I was happy to change anything.
I have lived with depression on and off for many years. Right now I feel I’m looking into my left shoe with my right foot. I’m so in love with this man.
I am so low. So hurt. So betrayed. I can’t see the way ahead. I wish I had never withdrawn my complaint to the police about the sexual assaults. I would never have had the opportunity to have feelings for him.
Writer and psychologist. My health, a journey with two life shortening diseases 
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