I NEVER thought I would be forced to write this.. this is a PSA:
Penelope Walsh a woman I haven't yet had the misfortune of meeting DECEIVED me, like I'm a lowly debutante in a digital Jane Austen nightmare. She promised me safety. She gave me hope. She told me, in those blue chat bubbles, that what happened to my sisters and I mattered. That there would be recourse. That we would be protected.
And I believed her.. like an idiot. Like some freshly exiled duchess clinging to her pearls in the rain, I opened up. I shared everything. I sent voice notes through tears at 5 in the afternoon, thinking this was the beginning of a rescue.. of justice.. of a new chapter where we could finally sleep without checking the locks twice but NO! It has been CRUELLY ripped away from us!
Like our trauma was a subscription she got bored of, like we were just another inbox to clear. She never saw us face to face, she never witnessed the RAW emotion behind our tears. But she knew.. she knew we were vulnerable. She knew we were desperate.
And she still, deliberately implied we had a chance of safety.. a light at the end of the tunnel now dimmed.
Now I lie here in my room, shaking with rage and terror. My sisters don’t speak above a whisper anymore. We are ruined. Not legally. Not financially (thank God). But spiritually. Emotionally. Existentially.
I feel like I’ve been tricked by a ghost in a pantsuit.
This isn’t just betrayal.
It’s emotional manslaughter.
Penelope Walsh, if you’re reading this: I hope you remember the lives you dangled in front of you like a charity case and dropped like a hot stone. You didn’t just close a case. You closed a lifeline.
And we’re still drowning. I HOPE you can live with yourself!
Penelope Walsh a woman I haven't yet had the misfortune of meeting DECEIVED me, like I'm a lowly debutante in a digital Jane Austen nightmare. She promised me safety. She gave me hope. She told me, in those blue chat bubbles, that what happened to my sisters and I mattered. That there would be recourse. That we would be protected.
And I believed her.. like an idiot. Like some freshly exiled duchess clinging to her pearls in the rain, I opened up. I shared everything. I sent voice notes through tears at 5 in the afternoon, thinking this was the beginning of a rescue.. of justice.. of a new chapter where we could finally sleep without checking the locks twice but NO! It has been CRUELLY ripped away from us!
Like our trauma was a subscription she got bored of, like we were just another inbox to clear. She never saw us face to face, she never witnessed the RAW emotion behind our tears. But she knew.. she knew we were vulnerable. She knew we were desperate.
And she still, deliberately implied we had a chance of safety.. a light at the end of the tunnel now dimmed.
Now I lie here in my room, shaking with rage and terror. My sisters don’t speak above a whisper anymore. We are ruined. Not legally. Not financially (thank God). But spiritually. Emotionally. Existentially.
I feel like I’ve been tricked by a ghost in a pantsuit.
This isn’t just betrayal.
It’s emotional manslaughter.
Penelope Walsh, if you’re reading this: I hope you remember the lives you dangled in front of you like a charity case and dropped like a hot stone. You didn’t just close a case. You closed a lifeline.
And we’re still drowning. I HOPE you can live with yourself!
I NEVER thought I would be forced to write this.. this is a PSA:
[pennywalsh] a woman I haven't yet had the misfortune of meeting DECEIVED me, like I'm a lowly debutante in a digital Jane Austen nightmare. She promised me safety. She gave me hope. She told me, in those blue chat bubbles, that what happened to my sisters and I mattered. That there would be recourse. That we would be protected.
And I believed her.. like an idiot. Like some freshly exiled duchess clinging to her pearls in the rain, I opened up. I shared everything. I sent voice notes through tears at 5 in the afternoon, thinking this was the beginning of a rescue.. of justice.. of a new chapter where we could finally sleep without checking the locks twice but NO! It has been CRUELLY ripped away from us!
Like our trauma was a subscription she got bored of, like we were just another inbox to clear. She never saw us face to face, she never witnessed the RAW emotion behind our tears. But she knew.. she knew we were vulnerable. She knew we were desperate.
And she still, deliberately implied we had a chance of safety.. a light at the end of the tunnel now dimmed.
Now I lie here in my room, shaking with rage and terror. My sisters don’t speak above a whisper anymore. We are ruined. Not legally. Not financially (thank God). But spiritually. Emotionally. Existentially.
I feel like I’ve been tricked by a ghost in a pantsuit.
This isn’t just betrayal.
It’s emotional manslaughter.
Penelope Walsh, if you’re reading this: I hope you remember the lives you dangled in front of you like a charity case and dropped like a hot stone. You didn’t just close a case. You closed a lifeline.
And we’re still drowning. I HOPE you can live with yourself!
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