The rest of my life

The injuries inflicted on me for the conglomerate's amusement are permanent.  They will worsen every day for the rest of my life, the illegally filmed imagery circulating to an ever-larger audience even after my death.

If it takes the rest of my life to make accountable the people who have tortured me for so many years, while I cared about them, then that's how long it takes.

Perhaps that is unclear to them.

Some of them seem to think that we're friends.  Some of them seem to think that there's a chance in hell that I'd date them.  They all seem to think that their petty insults, one-upmanship and continued attempts to victim-blame me make me do anything other than laugh or that I will hesitate to use all of the above to illustrate the truth of what I'm saying.  They also seem to think that we're arguing about something other than their promotion and enjoyment of crime, but we're not.

Unless I kill myself or am killed, then the rest of my life will be a long time.  Maybe being really hurt by people who think it's funny is what can instill a certain type of patience in someone like me.  I think I have that now.

Vengeance isn't making people accountable.  I try not to be vengeful, although sometimes my rage takes over and I say things that I regret or that I know I should regret.