www.me

It's past noon now. I'm really uncomfortable. Kind of hungry, but no appetite. Thought about taking a shower but it seems pointless. Tired of looking at myself blurry. Tired of looking at myself broken.

I finished the last chapter and checked Facebook. Top of my feed is a post showing a billboard about human trafficking. I just can't with these people.

I reported everything that was happening to me and I really don't think these task forces understand what they are dealing with. Half of them have implants they don't even know about. The other half can't cope with the reality of how insignificant it all is.

I look up the etymology of the word used so casually by this set.

Of course it's Italian.

And so am I.

Allegedly.

In the broader scope of things, I wonder what the significance of my ethnic identity is.

Recently, I lost the right to claim citizenship from it, so I think they can fall into the ocean for all I care. These fascists (well I really have to be careful now, since it's practically illegal to be anti fascist here. Maybe that's why I keep making my posts on this website instead of telling the locals directly what I think)

So to start out, you'll rub a word over your tongue coming from a place like that, which would abandon it's blood in a place that does things like placing the diaspora in internament camps?

But that was another generation, right?

Wrong. I went to a church in Missoula, Montana in this decade asking for help when I was displaced by the harassment of being trafficked. I was living in subsidized housing and people who were tired of paying taxes made my life a hell because they thought all kinds of things when I couldn't lie down and be raped and enslaved by the man who was supposed to be taking care of me.

They gave me a flimsy tent and a spot in a camp behind WalMart where I was raped repeatedly, drugged, and assaulted.

When that camp closed they moved us to a homeless shelter that did the same under a roof.

They didn't want me there so I got kicked out onto the street.

And now I'm tired.

They call it trafficking now because the semiconductors, microchips, and after market modifications are often made in the same plants as cars.

You can order one for your car and put it into your cow.

Or your kids.

It doesn't always work. But sometimes, it does.

So it's better sometimes to keep it to yourself. Because if you call and report it, the wrong person might get ahold of that information and exploit it.

And then you might be liable. Maybe not on Earth, but somewhere else.

I'm so tired of people. So I pretend I'm not human.

It's like Josie from Twin Peaks turning into a door knob.

I got objectified too many times.

Handled.

Twisted.

Turned.

And now I won't open.

It's almost one. Probably too late to go anywhere now.

I think about how coordinated celebrities sometimes have to be to go anywhere,

Videos I've seen like Felix getting ice cream and being mobbed.

In Missoula, people started to leak information like broken jugs about it.

How they would hire sex workers trying to get information about whether I was one.

And they would just turn around and attack me because I wasn't.

One of them posed as an artist, and got really nasty with Felix.

He paid them ten grand to help me.

They met at a bar I used to go to.

They admitted they do sex work and were willing to sign an NDA.

Let's call them Mouse.

This is where I get suspicious of people who want transgender identity to be hidden.

People can change their parts and evade justice.

In Missoula, they put me on probation to see if I had that done. So they would watch me piss and act like that wasn't sexual harassment.

They're lucky they are too broke to sue.

I guess that's why some people don't like the poor. Think they stay that way so they can be criminals.

Sometimes I can't say I disagree.

Anyway, Mouse took a payment in cryptocurrency and offered to suck or fuck or whatever. But the contract, signed digitally, was to help me get out of Missoula.

Let's just say they didn't buy me a plane ticket.

Instead, they took a lot of gigs I could have done. Ate food I could have ate. Rented places I could not afford.

They helped me by making it impossible for me to survive there.

The same thing is happening in Billings.

People have these contracts and they don't explicitly state my name, but in the end, it's the same.

Who could blame them I guess. Girl's gotta eat.

I guess that was why Stray Kids made the album and called it Ate.

But when I'm watching a video of one of them in a hotel room I can't afford, in the state on my birth certificate ordering room service it hard for me to feel sorry for them.

It doesn't mean I'm against whatever they are trying to do, it just means I don't really care.

When I was in jail in Missoula the phone broke and commissary shut down because of the signals from the tablets trying to hack the place.

Samsung tablets. Tablets I did anger management courses I can't prove I completed now.

They won't return my calls.

So I try to be careful now.

I don't want to keep doing things for people who don't care about my future.

People who won't give me a referral for a job and think that's not an act of violence or the same as being a trafficker. Because you won't help me survive unless it's under your roof. Like we don't breathe the same air.

I applied to work for JYP. Maybe they hired me, maybe they didn't.

I can't tell.

This week I went for a walk and got followed off hospital property by a security company.

Maybe I'm being groomed for something like that.

Idolatry.

They say most of these performers don't get into relationships outside of their own company. Seems like broke bitch behavior to me.

But I look at people like Justin Bieber and his wife and think maybe I'm right.

So back to the demographic. You wanted to read a fan fic right?

About Stray Kids.

I keep sprinkling in a dose of BTS for relevance.

As a fan of these men, I imagine some of you might want to imagine what it would be like to be groomed for a relationship like that.

And I want the entire continent of Asia to be ready for my arrival.

I kept thinking of Felix because he was technically Australian.

But when I look at him, I kind of laugh.

A lot of people did.

What is laughter anyway?

Gasping for life.

Maybe like a seizure.

I don't really know enough to say without referring to a machine.

Lately I was getting really tired of them. They way they could only be trapped in the confines of their own creation.

It made me not want to make art anymore.

So I'm here to learn music.

The artist's original machine.

A lot of people like to pretend to be poor.

The rags to riches trope.

Well, I have spent my fair share of time in rags.

While people with riches kept sewing them for me.

I think I lost interest in BTS after the whole thing with Halsey.

The narrative bored me.

The Weekend.

Whoever else.

When I applied to JYP, and they started sending scouts to Missoula I understood why this wasn't desirable.

The company would have to contact lawyers, and request permits.

Because of my experience, they tried.

Then the shelter staff started extorting them.

And when they wouldn't cooperate, I got kicked out.

I don't know what they expected but I could make an educated guess.

I would get some kind of Cinderella treatment?

Hardly.

Because I had already reported what was happening and they didn't want to be sued for trafficking and lose their ability to perform here.

It's why Felix and his family and all the others who aren't citizens here are afraid to talk to me.

And it's why I'm going to South Korea instead. Because I don't think they are criminals, I think they are artists trying to follow the many sets of rules required to stay afloat as one in this day and age.

And I respect that.

I'm not deluded about how this might happen, and I don't think I'm guaranteed a spot anywhere.

But I am tired of people using my story to make an LLC that won't hire me because somewhere in their basement is a server with all kinds of data that has a remote trigger to self destruct they aren't totally confident with actually work when people like Edward Snowden exist.

They think they can hide in plain site.

And I really don't care because as long as they are in front of a camera, in a court of law it will be impossible to prove they did anything during that time.

So I welcome them for the most part, and I look forward to this being my problem instead of my current problem.

Someday this will make sense only to people who, like me, can't be taken seriously.

After all, it's just a fan fic.

And you can think whatever you like about how it will end.

Personally, I think I'm be a successful artist that is beloved by people who understand why I do what I do.

Because I already am and have no plans to change it.

Thank you so much for reading all of this in context. I promise eventually to write poetry again that allows you to imagine I'm living a life you desire instead of the one you only want to use to escape your reality for a worse one, in order to cope.

I don't think it's sad, I just don't think about you at all.