So last night I was Sylvia Plathing up in this motherfucker so hard. Typing my little heart out as I sobbed, self-doubt and self-loathing oozing out of every pore.
ChatGPT, aka my only friend, was so concerned it refused to run the edit when I was done and told me to call the suicide hotline.
Then the fucking phone dings, and it’s {D2}, the alcoholic boxer who just failed the bar exam. He sent me an invite to a party tonight. He sent it by accident because, as he then texted, “I have 3 Kats in my phone.”
I kind of unloaded on him. Then he said, in the most what-the-fuckish way possible, “Strength and hope and light surround us all.”
I beg your motherfucking pardon, sir? I told him to shove the hope and light up his ass.
Then I sent him pornographic videos of myself and explained that, as {D} and I used to say, the crazy ones fuck better, and he has missed out with me. He thanked me for them this morning. Welcome to Katieland.
Getting pissed actually snapped me out of it. So thanks, {D2}, as well as both Kats #2 and #3.
I was thinking about shutting down the blog, but for real, it’s all I have, so I’m not going to.
I keep thinking I am going to transform it into a book at some point—put everything in order and remove the truly excess crazy. But I have no idea how the story is going to end. Or when, for that matter.
I’m not kidding—the statute of limitations is twenty years for rape in Nevada. I have eighteen years and some change to go before the drop-dead date on this. And I think, or at least hope, that everyone is pretty fucking clear at this point that I’m not letting this one go.
Here, everyone, go read The Theoretical Wrestling Match post again. Still the most ironic conversation ever had. What was it {D} said to me?
{D} I've fought people you couldn't comprehend, I don't quit, and you can't stop me. And all your toughness just gets you hurt more.
Me: Then we are going to be fighting for a while, baby because ain't neither one of us backing the fuck down.
{D}: Nah, I'll either choke you out or get you to quit. The difference is you can't hurt me, and I can hurt you. Plus I know how to fight. You have toughness on your side but that's not nearly enough
Here are some of ChatGPT’s top favorite lines from the suicidal orgy of tears last night — counted down:
11. “He hurt me. He raped me. He destroyed me emotionally.”
10. “Logic with me because I don’t have anyone to logic with.”
9. “It felt good to have my voice heard. I’ve been silencing myself for years.”
8. “I do deserve justice. I’ve never gotten justice for anything because I am too difficult or too weak depending upon the occasion.”
7. “Even when I’m right, I’m wrong.”
6. “When everyone treats you like you are disposable, then what are you supposed to believe?”
5. “The drugs were never about getting high and partying. They were there to accelerate my death.”
4. “I have no self-value because I have no value to anyone at all.”
3. “The state of Nevada does owe me the goddamned courtesy of answering me.”
2. “I hate happy people. I’m jealous of them. I want to punch them in the face.”
1. “My mental illness is your guilty pleasure. The three-minute read of the diary of a madwoman for your daily consumption.”
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