Sunday morning. 6:30am. My neighborhood is poppin’! It’s busier right now than it was yesterday at 10am. I feel like everyone gets up at sunrise, works until like noon, takes a midday break when the sun is at its highest, and then they all come back out at night. The deadest time on the streets is between 12pm and 4pm. It’s like a ghost town.
Well, it’s a good thing I’m already back in the habit of getting up at 5am because that’s what time we get up at the yoga shala. Personally I like waking up at sunrise and getting everything done before noon, so I’m vibing.
There are so many things I love about Bangkok. The culture, the food, the history, the people, the amount of green space. Unfortunately, the whole Passport Bro-specific social scene really just kills the vibe for me. I suspect I will continue to see a lot of that as I continue filling in my map of SEA. I will never understand white men who complain about being “oppressed.” The entire world is literally built to cater to your every whim. Come out from your basement and experience it for once.
Speaking of basement dwellers, I haven’t heard back from my stalker again. Guess I lobbed too many tennis balls in his direction at once for him to be able to formulate an actual response. Maybe he finally ran out of old Twitter screenshots to throw in my face. Maybe he finally realized he’s just a pathetic troll that I will never have any respect for. Who knows?
Like, bro, you seem REALLY angry. Have you ever thought about getting a massage? Maybe try yoga or reiki or Himalayan crystal singing bowls. Something that doesn’t involve harassing me about random shit I said 5 years ago that you are determined to take completely out-of-context in order to stir up drama. What a pathetic waste of time. Get a life. Get a hobby. Do something valuable with your time.
Maybe they have one of those weird humiliation kinks? Like they enjoy being publicly destroyed on the internet? Are they jerking off to this? That might be a little too weird and out there for me, actually. Some of these kinks people brag about having just makes me think they need therapy, not a partner to freely abuse in the bedroom. Like, what is actually wrong with you in the head?
Anyway, on that note, I am so ready for my yoga teacher training course. I can’t wait to just disappear into the Indonesian rainforest for a month and vibe with all the animals. Let’s hit that reset button, fam. Get my mind back in order. Learn how to actually use the Himalayan crystal singing bowls so that when trolls bother me, I can just post a video of myself playing them to soothe the beast. Whatever it takes to get them to finally realize that they do not control the narrative of MY life story. They never have, and they never will.
It’s like, sure, maybe you had some power once upon a time when we were both trapped in that stupid town. You could spread your bullshit around to anyone who would listen and get them on your side. Why? Because those people are stupid, they love drama, and they will attack literally anyone in their immediate vicinity if it makes them feel better about how shitty they are for even one instant.
Now we are not in that town anymore. What power do you have left? None. You can’t isolate me from everyone anymore. Twitter doesn’t exist and I don’t use the entity it has become, so you can’t stalk me there. I don’t use Facebook, so you can’t stalk me there. My Instagram is private and I mostly use it to post pretty pictures of sunsets, so there’s nothing for you there. I hate LinkedIn and I’m not afraid to say that on LinkedIn. Reddit is already full of trolls and I have all my safety features turned to the highest settings so I can screen out trolls.
Then there’s this blog. This blog, which is clearly written in my voice about the events and people I observe on a daily basis. You already convinced everyone not to read it. You already got Bloody Mary’s off of here. You did it! The work is done! You’re a success! Yet for some reason, you’re still on here harassing me, trying to act like you know more about me and my life and my motivations than I do, trying to control the narrative for all three people who are still hanging on your every word.
Why?
Don’t you have a life? Don’t you have a job? Don’t you have a family? Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around compiling screenshots of my internet activity? Jesus Christ, what a loser. Every time I think it through, I’m just like… wow. You really are a complete and total loser.
At least I admit I have issues that prevent me from holding down a regular job and work towards fixing them. You just keep going all in on this internet harassment thing, determined to beat me down until you silence me forever.
Okay, well if you want to silence me forever, then you can drag me out into the center of Main Street by my hair and publicly execute me by shooting me in the head. Then you can go on your crazy Nazi rant about how “Wokeism” is ruining the world and say you are making an example out of me. Then the video footage will go viral, I will become a martyr for my cause, and your problem will multiply tenfold.
So really, what are you trying to accomplish here? Read a fucking history book, man. You’re on the losing side. You always have been. That’s not my problem. Time to educate yourself. Now get off the internet, pick up all your plastic bottles full of piss that are collecting around the computer screen, go outside, take a walk down to the library, and read an actual fucking book.
I know, it will be so hard for you. You obviously have very little reading comprehension based on your insane reactions to my blog posts. But don’t worry, with plenty of practice, you’ll be sounding out all of those big, complicated words in no time.
*pats troll gently on the head*
Meanwhile I’m over here in Bangkok, hunched over in a park, mumbling to myself like, “In order to catch the troll, you must be the troll.”
I am the fucking troll.
I’m the biggest, baddest troll on the block, baby. I eat little trolls like you for breakfast. Om nom nom nom! I once survived being doxxed on Four Chan. All it did was make me stronger. Every time you attack me, it makes me stronger. When are you going to get that through your stupid little fucking empty head?
I need to leave my apartment today and go run some pre-travel errands. I’m not sure how much it’s going to rain though. I also feel like everyone wakes up really, really early but nothing actually opens until mid-morning.
The coffee shop I go to is one of the few that opens at 6am, so that’s why I chose it. Plus now I love the baristas. They are so nice and chill. The thing I love most about them is that they all speak Thai, so there is no danger of them dragging me into their local coffee shop drama like they always did at the Cafe in Verm. Ugh, that shit was so exhausting. Everyday I am grateful I finally got away from that Groundhog Day-esque nightmare of a town.
What’s funny is that I interacted with people more in Verm/1880 Town than I do with people here, but I always felt MORE isolated there. Probably because I knew anyone I talked to would instantly trash me the second I turned my back, so it all felt very pointless after awhile. It’s exhausting to leave the house and be that level of fake with every single person you meet, knowing that no matter what you do or say, that person is instantly going to turn around and smear you. Then, if you point out that people collectively do that as a culture, they have their screaming meltdown, lecture you about how “nice” they are, and then talk even more shit about you.
I will never, ever forget the absurdity of watching someone who I literally overheard talking the nastiest shit about me crying over a blog post I wrote calling them out on it without a name. Talk about playing the victim! Wow! So, it’s okay for you to trash me as much as you want when you think I’m not around to hear it, but it’s not okay for me to write back to you talking about you in the exact same derogatory, hurtful manner.
Wah wah wah, go cry more. I don’t have to apologize to you. I don’t have to be the bigger person. I’m treating you exactly like you treated me. Haven’t you ever heard the Golden Rule? It’s in that stupid Bible you keep waving in my face as if it actually means something to you. The Golden Rule says, “Treat others the way you wish to be treated.” You clearly enjoy being mean to other people, so you must want people to be mean to you back. Hashtag Logic! Guess now you know how it feels.
Ugh. They are the worst. I am never, ever going back to that miserable fucking shithole. I would rather be buried in the sand and have red fire ants dumped all over me. It would basically be the exact same situation. Same, same, as they say over here.
Yeah so obviously there’s a reason I’m limiting my human interaction to pre-scripted events like buying coffee and shopping and going to the American Bar, which I’ve lost my traste for after realizing it’s just Passport Bros and I got really, really, really lucky that first night I went in there and picked up that hot guy. That’s not a normal night there. A normal night is just Old Passport Bros talking to Young Passport Bros, passing on their wisdom and knowledge of how to take advantage of vulnerable women in SEA. Lame. Lame AF. It’s not for me!
Well, this is all very disappointing. I thought I’d be working and living life and have processed and forgotten all of this by now. That’s why I need to go back for another YTTC. I gotta be the best possible version of me so I can give something good back to the world. No more being dragged down into the dungeon to fight off the trolls.
At the end of the day, I don’t really care who it is. It doesn’t matter. I have no respect for this person whatsoever. Anyone who hides their thoughts and feelings and opinions and only comes out to attack people while wearing the mask of anonymity is a coward. Straight up.
Honestly, discovering their identity at this point would just be disappointing to me. I mean, if it’s not the real Andrew himself, then it’s just some pathetic rando. Then the “Big Reveal” isn’t actually that big of a deal because it’s no one I’ve ever actually paid attention to or even remotely cared about in my entire life.
What more is left to say or do? Why would I give a single fuck about what this random fucking loser has to say about my life?
Well, in my mind, I am the Carnivorous Snail I was watching out in the garden a few weeks ago. I just smashed up the shell of the smaller, weaker, more insignificant snail and ate it for breakfast like escargot. And you know what goes great with snails slathered in holy basil pesto? That’s right! A nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
Om nom nom.
Come at me, bro. I will eat you alive. Oh, wait, that’s right.
I already have.