Datasets

FTW. I think I won something today. The arbitrator kind of sided with me on the discovery issue, so I’m excited about that—so yay.

I pissed her off today, and she keeps asking for the telephone, and ain’t no fucking way.

She asked for the date to be moved, and of course the arbitrator said yes. I started sobbing, crying alone about how fucking unfair it was. Like my justice is contingent on his travel. Fuck him.

I asked them to make him come in person. You know, because this is the actual God’s honest truth—{D} is not afraid of me in a traditional sense. {D} and I can read each other. {D} knows “the look” isn’t going to intimidate me. He knows I can see straight through to his soul. He won’t be able to hold.

All that with just eye contact. I deserve to have him look me in the eye.

You know, his eyes changed for me that night. They were gray, not that sparkling blue.

I remember we were looking at each other, and he made me uncomfortable. He never made me uncomfortable. After that night, it just changed. I always get weirded out when he looks at me like that.

Predators—what are you gonna do? He is a predator. That’s what he is. Like, you don’t get pissed at an alligator for being an alligator.

I don’t know if they’re going to make him come. But they should.

They are, however, asking for my data analytics. See, I sent the lawyer an email last week when {D} was in town on his second apocaversary. I freaked the fuck out that he was here. Like, I know he’s here—his parents live here, and he fucking told me when he was talking about going back to Vermont that he would have to come out a lot to see his parents. But I never knew when, which was kind of nice, I suppose, because fucking finding out sucked balls.

And I sent an email to his representation saying he needs to stay away from me. And they should have made it a fucking point to make sure I didn’t fucking know he was here. Anyways.

So now she’s wasting half her fucking discovery on my website analytics. She wants to know how I know and where my data is, and I need to produce my research. Like, bitch, I have been doing this shit for a year. I know when people come, and who the fuck is who. I have spent a great deal of time watching analytics.

And to remind everyone—why did I put the analytics shit on? Who remembers? Carson motherfucking City. When they were surveilling me and I thought I was losing my fucking mind about a year ago. Remember that shit? And it turned out the government was indeed watching me.

The analytics were to defend against the fucking government. The rest of it is just a little puzzle game I play.