I can't believe that it's been 4 years since I moved to my last apartment.

I loved that apartment.  I would have lived there for years if I could have.  All I wanted was for the hidden, illegal cameras to be taken out of it.  That was all that I asked.

My requests to the property management that the hidden, illegal cameras be removed were answered with denial, accusations that I was lying and harassing the property management with my requests that my rights be respected, and a retaliatory eviction.

When I had to move back to a homeless shelter at the beginning of the summer in 2017, I didn't let myself think about the apartment that I had lost after 5 months of begging that someone who knew that I was telling the truth corroborate it.  I did not think about the apartment for the 2 years and 3 months that I was homeless again because nobody corroborated it and it even seemed as if the majority of people who knew that I was telling the truth smugly and viciously enjoyed withholding that information when it would have cost them nothing to make that phone call, send an email, a letter, a FAX to any of the contacts which I provided.  I don't think about it now.  I try not to think about it.

After enough people have deliberately hurt you enough times, particularly while they're laughing in your face about it, you stop letting heartbreak into your life.

I didn't want anyone to buy me a house.  If there were people who thought that my being successfully, falsely branded a crazy liar and evicted for the 2nd time in a row wasn't important because all I had to do was suck up to them and they'd buy me a place to live, then that's insulting.  Nobody who knew that I was telling the truth, who knew that I was asking for that help, and who did not give that help, is going to be forgiven.   I don't forgive you.  I'm never going to forgive you.

I realize that it's difficult for people who throw around the word "love" every day and who don't care if people whom they claim to love live or die or live miserable, helpless lives to understand that it's possible not to like someone at all while also caring about the person's decisions and hoping that he or she will be happy.

I'm not bitter.  I'm not even really angry anymore.  I'm just done.  I'm really done.

Now I'm trapped again in the same situation, all over again, with hidden, illegal cameras in yet another apartment and my phone hacked, 4 years older and without the privacy that I would need to have even a casual conversation for a few minutes in my own home.  Nothing has changed; the conglomerate has only gotten more vicious since it did this to me in my last apartment, and has added fat-shaming to its bullying, even though I'm not fat and even though I'm still paying almost $100/month for a gym membership that I don't use because there are cameras in those locker rooms, too.

I talk to crisis services several times per week, so that I don't have a nervous breakdown.  I also talked to crisis services in my last apartment.  Everyone who hacks my phone and/or watches me in these apartments knows how many hours I have spent talking to crisis services.  They don't care.  They have never cared.  I'm just a competition for who can have sex with me, and that's not because I'm all that beautiful.  It's because for this decade of being targeted for sexual harassment and crime, nobody has had sex with me.

All of these people deserve to be HATED, but they're not even worth hating.