It often saddens me to see people working mindless, menial, and often dead-end jobs with little pay in the name of progress. It seems as a society that the vast majority of us are more than willing, and often eager to trade our precious and fleeting time in exchange for money. We fear losing our jobs and likewise, our loss of income. Employers notoriously leverage control out of fears of job loss, so we seldom consider alternative means of income. Welcome to the new age; a society so dependent upon our employment that we will do exactly as we are told to keep our jobs. Continue reading
Beginning in the early 1990′s is when I started to take my writing seriously, in pursuit of greatness. I was inspired by all of the so-called great writers who had written the classics typically added to high school reading lists. It was in the late 90′s that I first began to receive feedback after putting some of my writing on the Internet. It seems so very long ago, and yet I often look back to the early days wondering how far I have progressed with my craft and the realization that if I had never found love, I might very well have devoted my life to writing. Continue reading
Recently I was thinking about my life; how far I have come, and more importantly, where I wish to go next in my journey of life. I thought about my habitual note-taking obsession, and how I always take notes on just about everything, regardless of how mundane or ordinary it may seem to others; if it catches my interest, it will be detailed through extensive, yet very personal and private documentation. In an effort to document the process, I was at a total loss for words as to how to best describe and formally document the process, so after some research, I came across this page which details one persons attempt at taking life-based notes taking process, with a focus on travel.
This post is going to cover all the things you need to know about how to take essential notes on life; this is a skill that is of beneficial to writers, creative people, or anyone else who has even the slightest interest in the topic. Continue reading
Here is a list of 41 places to find writing inspiration. Please leave a comment if you wish to suggest a link that is was not included in the list. Continue reading
This is an unsent letter to my former abuser, Joshua Johanson, who abused me physically, emotionally, and worst of all, sexually. I have posted this letter publicly; it is the final step in my recovery. Parents, therapists, and anyone else who has suffered at the hands of a sociopath, or know someone who has, should read and/or share this post.
(Parents especially should take the opportunity to educate their children about abuse and who they should tell if it should ever happen to them. It is never too early to have this discussion with your children.)
Dear Joshua Johanson,
It has been 15 years since you completely turned my life upside down for nothing more than your own sick personal enjoyment. You completely destroyed over a decade of my life after suffering unspeakable and sickening sexually-based crimes against me at your hands while at the same time, everyone around me who met you thought that I was lying about these repeated incidents because you were so nice and charming. There is no doubt in my mind, or surely in the mind of any professional and/logical person who evaluates you that you are indeed a sociopath.
I am writing this letter, openly, not only as my final step of healing from this trauma, but as a means of warning others about you. Hopefully you have found a way to change your behavior, though I seriously doubt that your behavior will ever change, and for as long as you shall live, you will almost certainly have a victim to prey upon. You have no concern for the well being, feelings, or safety of others, let alone any concern for the ways in which we function as a society.
Although I was victimized by you for over a year, the emotional wounds you inflicted upon me, and my family members will likely last much longer. You told me repeatedly that you would do anything to keep me from telling anyone about what you were doing to me. You even told me on several occasions that you would kill me if it was necessary to keep me quiet, and when I didn’t take you seriously, you forced me to look at Polaroid pictures of nude deceased bodies, that you claimed to have taken yourself. You told me that if I ever spoke badly of you to any other person, or revealed what you were doing to me, that you would add a picture of my naked dead body to your collection.
You kept a plastic box which was filled with the personal effects taken from corpses who you helped, “deal with” at the mortuary you supposedly interned at. I will never forget the terrible smell of decaying flesh that would emanate from that box. You would always carefully wrap it in a plastic bag, then a soft cloth which was sprayed with cologne to mask the obvious smell. There is no doubt in my mind that you would indeed kill me if you had the opportunity, feeling no remorse for it, and that your only fear would be getting caught. Your trophy case was by far your most prized possession, and one which you kept both hidden, and locked away with the rest of your valuables. You would constantly check on it almost every single day, and accuse me, or anyone else who came around of tampering with it. You became increasingly paranoid come graduation time, as you knew that I would be going off to college in a completely different state, and you knew that one day, I might slip and tell someone the truth about you. Come to think of it, getting caught was always your greatest, and only fear.
I remember one occasion when you forced me to commit a sex act (there were many times you forced me to commit sex acts, but this one stands out in my memory), you told me that if I should ever go to the police that you would claim to be the victim in all of this and state that you were only 17, and that since I had just turned 18, you would claim statuary rape against me. It never mattered to you what the truth was, because regardless, you would always find a way around it. You were so convincing, so cunning, so calculating, and yet, so fake. Nobody could see just how fake you were being; that is, unless they were a victim of your psychopathic personality.
I remember the school we attended would always sweep your issues and your infractions, no matter the size, under the rug. In essence, no matter what I said, or who I went to for help, the answer was always the same. I was told that I was lying, or that you were so nice that you couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong. In essence, the school gave you a license to do whatever you wanted to, in a completely consequence-free environment. Let’s face it; they needed you. Every time a family came to visit the school, trying to decide if they wanted to send their son to boarding school there, you would be the one to be picked to represent the student body.
I know for a fact that there were other victims; I saw it first-hand with my own eyes. I have decided not to reveal the names of your other victims because it is not my place to do so, but I hope that they find the courage within themselves to do so. I hope in time, that this letter might help not only those whom you victimized, but others who have sadly, experienced trauma similar to mine.
I think that you were counting on me keeping this bottled up inside me. The truth is, that I did so for 15 years. I told my close friends about what happened; the only ones who believed me were the ones that never met you. The ones who did know you did not think you were capable of such things; even members of my own family did not believe me when I told them what you were doing to me. Before my father passed away, he realized that I wa indeed telling the truth, based upon the amount of pain I had experienced for the past 15 years, and he said he felt sorry for not believing me. The amount of pain, grief, and torment that your actions has caused is immeasurable, as are the countless hours of therapy I have had to go through, and the literally thousands of dollars I have spent paying for that therapy.
For years, I suffered in silence. I felt anger, betrayal, but most of all, guilt. I don’t know why I felt guilty for what you put me through, but in reality, you are the only one who is guilty here, not me. I know that by now, the statues of limitations have long since run out, so in a legal sense, you did get away with it, but in a moral sense, I have finally found the inner strength to forgive you and move on with the rest of my life. However, this written account will likely haunt you for the rest of your life, much the same way, perhaps, that you have haunted me ever since the last time I saw you, which was back in 1998.
You probably didn’t anticipate that I would eventually become a very prolific and well-read and respected writer, or that I would even take the time to write about you. In a very sick and twisted way that no human being could possibly understand, you are probably enjoying this attention. As far as my written account of the abuse is concerned, my friends, and anyone else who has read my writing extensively can now say god damn the person [Joshua Nills Johanson], who prior to this writing, never had a name.
After all of this happened, I was extremely angry, yet there was no specific target for my anger. One thing is certain, and that is that you were the cause of it. I thought that if you moved far enough away, that you would be out of my life forever, though I never could decide if you would have to leave the state, the country, or even the planet to be far enough away. I did daydream, at least 5 or so minutes everyday about seeking revenge. I have never really hated anyone in my life as much as I hated you; I hated you more than any other person in history, including terrorists. Yes, I was molested as a child, but nothing compares to how you treated, abused, and degraded me. To put it bluntly, you made me your bitch, and your sexual slave, and I will never forget that, nor would I wish it upon anyone.
But like I stated earlier, you need not fear any sort of retribution or attack, as I have finally found a way to forgive you. Seeking revenge or retribution would only bring me down to your level, and that is a level, in my eyes that is both pure evil and below human.
I know I may never get revenge, nor will I ever seek it, and I am almost certain that you will not feel any guilt, remorse, or doubt that what you did is inexcusable. Chances are, you will never apologize for what you have done, and if you did, it would not be sincere. I have my doubts sometimes that you are even human, because no human being I have ever met is as cold, calculating, or cruel, or disgusting as you can be. While you may be able to talk your way out of any predicament, writing you this letter, openly, may someday plant a seed of doubt that will someday save someone else from having to become your next victim and endure the trauma that I suffered for over a decade.
By the way, Joshua Nills Johanson, if you ever make any attempt to contact me or any member of my family again, I will post your picture here for the entire world to see along with this letter.
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