Codependency = Cruisin’ For Crazy

With respect to the fact that perhaps someone will read this, I had to acknowledge something.

It is now October 5. According to my text logs, the last time my departed schizoid-narcissist Skype sadist deigned to speak to me was August 25. An unmemorable utterance of “lol what?” I later discovered after unblocking him briefly after work. And yet, thanks to a combination of tireless Google search and social media, over the past month I have discovered disgusting amounts of public information I never gave a passing thought to while I was in the process of getting to know him.
All of it is trivial to my life, but the fact that he refused to tell me basic details about himself – (unless directly asked, and even then, the answers were accompanied by paranoia, redirection or a sob story of self-hate) – for the sake of “anonymity”, that were freely scattered all over the internet for all to see, as a way to toy with me, is what first raised my suspicions.

I first learned his real name by watching one of his YouTube videos, as he had neglected to tell me this after over a week of conversation (about his interests, naturally). He said he hated his real name and was never on Facebook. Curious, I looked his name up on Facebook at the time, and Googled it, and found only a US military officer who shared the name.

Two months later, I brought up the subject of being Facebook friends obliquely and he said of course he would, I just had never asked, and gave me one of his online aliases. By now I knew enough of his aliases to discover that he had two accounts and a hobby/seller’s page (which is ironically dedicated solely to asking for donations), , and was (of course) Facebook friends with himself. This alias was the key that would later unlock most of my Google searches.

Some of my searches turned up: a secret Tumblr comprised solely of recycled profile selfies (+1 Llamas with Hats GIF), an abandoned deviantArt, forum posts asking strangers to offer serious suggestions for a game concept based off a dream he’d just had, and a Fetlife account.

Also, because he had randomly decided to (delegate anyone within earshot of his Facebook) search for his birth parents, he had written a spiel which included his middle name. He shares names with a famous celebrity.

You've got that crazy, daydream, look in your eye.

I should have guessed, really, because the last thing a narcissistic person wants is to share his name with anyone more important, popular, decorated, ruggedly handsome, worshipped and respected. Hence the Wizard of Oz hat-trick of alter-egos. Dear reader, it is to laugh. If one does not laugh down the brainwashing boggart in the wardrobe, one may be induced to listen to him.
That way, (and the obsessive Google searching way) surely lies madness. Here’s one solution:



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