Friday, March 9, 2007

bringing the truth back home

Sigh. You're boring me now. There's nothing of me you can expose that I didn't already. It was all there in my blog, in my conversations with friends, online and off. But that's neither here nor there. This isn't about me. It's about you.

You keep trying to turn it back onto me, but the facts are this: You are the guilty one. You are the one who made all of this up. You are the one who manufactured personas. You manufactured Jesse. You manufactured Alice. You manufactured Annie. You manufactured Cakey. You manufactured Pavlo. You manufactured Rhys. And more. Either alone, or with help. And if alone, well, eeeeeew is all I have to say, and get yourself a fucking day job.

By the way, I know you've been reading my blog. In fact, not only reading it, but coming back to it over and over with alarming frequency.

"Jesse's" mental illness was explained to me, and he seemed like a kind man beset upon by society's ills, who only wanted to live his life but was endlessly persecuted in circumstances scenarios beyond his control. Too bad, Janna. In another life you could have been a writer.

That mental illness I have tolerance for because it's someone who recognizes their problem and is trying against all odds to overcome it. The kind of mental illness that is called Munchausen's by Internet (or something, I can't remember what my friend called it), that I have less tolerance for, because especially in your case, boy oh boy, you don't recognize your problem, and you're not trying to overcome jack shit.

However, I think I've been relatively kind to you up till now. I've given you the chance to fess up before I took legal action, just because I feel like I deserve answers.

You want questions, here are some questions: Who are the people in the pictures, besides your husband and your daughter? Who is Julia? Who is Rhys? Who is Krista? Who is Pavlo? Were you saying, obliquely as usual, that you got all those photos from Google Images? And yeah, I'm kicking myself because I taught "Jesse" how to use it. Who received the package I sent to Rhys in Spain? Who is wearing all that movie merchandise I spent oodles on for Jesse and his friends and family? Most importantly, why the fuck did you do this? Was it just a trifle that went out of control? Is that why "Jesse" kept trying to drive me away? Is that why you would push me to break up with him at any small sign of doubt in my mind?

Oh, and were you chuckling to yourself while watching Notes On A Scandal because you realized how small-change Dame Judi's character was compared to you?

So, still, because I was being kind to a nutcase, because I didn't want you embarrassed publicly in national newspapers, I quashed an investigative piece in a NYC newspaper, where they were going to do a story on this whole thing, printing your full name, location, and your photo. You may have told me you worked at AP, but you know I know writers. You've met some of them. Maybe it's not too late to tell them to go ahead with it, because I can't make you go the fuck away, and you're clearly not going to be explaining anything to me anytime soon.

All I wanted was for you to leave me alone, which means disappear from my radar, which means close down your stupid blog and stop pretending that Jesse exists and that everything you told me was true, when really little of it was/is, even about yourself. But you have to keep dithering on about it, as though you were betrayed by my sense of betrayal in all this.

I would really like you to see a psychiatrist, but I don't think any lawyer in the world would take my case on for simply banning you from possessing a computer in your house, giving me a public apology/explanation, and serious mental counseling, so I think it will have to come down to suing you for money.

Brace yourself. I really hope your family and friends do know about this.

And, by the way, if it turns out I'm wrong about all this and you provide law enforcement with a certified copy of Jesse's death certificate and other proof, such as full names and contact details of all the other players involved and they corroborate your story, I'll apologize publicly. But the phrase containing the words "snowball" and "hell" come to mind.

Oh, one more thing. I never said I wasn't a cunt.

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