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Essay by Adrianne Clark

Angry

Pastel abstract digital artwork with large pale shapes, fluorescent pink details, and scattered marks.

Angry af at the weirdos trying to be me.

I don't think I'm being attacked right now, but they are still trying to get into my website through any channel they can think of, including my email accounts.

Fucking psychic remote viewers, they shouldn't be using that shit for evil.

Why the hell would anyone want to be me?? It hurts being me.

All I know is abuse, it seems, but I realize that I've been exploited out of a lot of income, doing things that my other identities do when I'm DID’d out.

And these freaks claim to be me so they can profit off my labor. They claim that they are “others”, as I call them. But strange… I may not know a lot of my personal history, but I do know that they are not of me.

Most of my others are already famous in their own right, and I wouldn't ever take that from them- I just want the credit for what I have done, and not have the overlords give the spoils away to conceited little brat bitches that kill babies for fun.

I was a musician for awhile, and was in some pretty famous bands for a long time… I've been in movies, and on TV.

What I'm saying is that I've done some things that other people might get jealous of, if they have a low enough vibration. But these bitches went full Single White Female on me, and kept trying to off me to take my place. Fucking replicants. It goes to show they aren't very bright, and haven't put it together yet that they've been at this game for over 15 years at least and I'm still alive. I ain't dying yet.