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In February, out of the blue, I got an email from Greg asking if I was pleased with myself for (in some fashion left, sadly, undescribed) destroying a secret action against human trafficking.

This is not true, of course: not true that I magicked it all the hell and not true that it existed in the first place. (And before you think, “well, maybe… ” —  no. It isn’t. This is an example of the kind of lie he makes up to make you feel guilty and stupid and responsible and cowed, because that’s how he wants you to be.)

He wrote:

“one dead .. one in prison ..  i hope you are proud of the consequences
of your actions.. the route for the export of young women to the US
from lao is open and will continue to function .. fantastic …”

As usual, he doesn’t say anything about what I actually did or could have done to disrupt this grand action. Just that the usual culprit, my “fear,” was enough to gum up the works. My fear has ended up being responsible for a lot of notable events over the past two years, according to Greg. Quite a powerful figure, this fear, able to stop bank transfers with a single tendril; able to smash international coalitions with a breath.

I remember, back when I used to believe him, asking how, how, how this had all happened and what I could have had to do with it, given that  I spent most of my time alone in hotel rooms, telling little white lies to people who were concerned about me. He never had a real response. He just made me feel shitty for not “understanding.”

“.. get on your knees and apiloguse to the
families of the young women whose lives you have ruined with your
fears and pathetic insecurities … you have no idea what you have
done .. the only comfort i take from this is that you will never be
truely free ..”

And an insult at the end. Imagine wanting to make someone feel responsible for something like this — someone who, hours or days before and after, you’ll also claim to love.