Visions

 Hi. I guess this post will be shorter than usual because I really do not have much to say. I am struggling to keep my eyes open because I have had a lot of wine tonight, well, more than usual. I was trying to drown my own thoughts after they have become really hard to handle. I haven´t been able to sleep properly for the last few weeks, ever since I came back from Antarctica. Well, technically ever since my last few days in Chile. I thought that was mainly due to an earthquake waking me up in the middle of the night in Santiago (though I am used to those, I had not felt one in a while and they freak me the hell out). Truth is, things have gone downhill from that trip to Antarctica.

Welcome to sexual harassment without consequences. 

I am sorry but I have been having a hard time talking about it. I can try and make it short. I went to Antarctica on my own (as usual) and I was around 5 days on a ship. That, combined with the rough sea during the last two nights onboard, sort of made me snap. I could not wait to get the hell off, I was so fed up. I was 5 days completely cut out, no internet, nothing. In the middle of bloody nowhere. It felt like being in space, with the exception of gravity. I was literally as isolated as any human being can be on this Earth. After I got off the boat on January 21rst (alas) we were taken to King George Island, where the airport is, to be flown back to Punta Arenas in Chile. That is also where the Chilean base is located, Base Eduardo Frei. This is where the long list of my own troubles started. I met two dudes there while waiting for the flight. Two strikingly beautiful men (Chilean) ten years my junior (yup, as it turned out TR is not the only freak around here). I spoke to both but more with the first guy. When I was getting off the bus, the first guy grabs me and pulls me towards him then gives me a kiss on my cheek. Just like that, in front of everyone, which was a quarter or the ship roughly. He pulled me so tightly around him that I could actually feel his body against mine even with all the layers and a polar parka. Imagine that. I have no idea why he did that. Although Chileans do kiss people to greet them (like in Italy), I found that to be inappropriate in the context we were in (passengers and airline employees. He is an employee of the airline called DAP; which flies to Antarctica). He took me by surprise and I felt like his gesture had a strong sexual component attached to it. Although we didn´t exchange names or anything, I was able to find him online (come on, we are talking about ME here. LOL I find everyone. I have skills to sell) and I tried to talk to him but he never responded. I wanted some clarifications but, like I said, never got a response from him. Doing what he did in front of everyone is just bloody insane to me. I think these people go ballistic after being isolated there for months and lose complete sense of reality.

Men in Antarctica think they have a pass at doing whatever they want. They apparently think I am a dirty whore who deserves to be seen and used like an object.

That is not it. This is actually the easiest part of the story. After this, I spoke to another dude which was the bus driver that took us from camp to the airplane. Also from Chile, also beautiful and much younger. We didn´t exchange many words right there and then but we started speaking online via facebook after my return. I wrote to him in English and he wrote to me back in Spanish. Spanglish, basically. This is a long story but, to make it short, he started hinting that he wanted to be paid in exchange for sex. He asked me how much money I was willing to pay for a dude to satisfy me in bed all day and all night. When I “played British” (polite phrases to tell him to get lost without actually telling him to piss right off directly) he told me to “think about it” (piensalo).  He was insisting really hard on this.

As you know I have skills (which I am wasting on big fucking Pharma) and I figured that there was something strange with this dude after he was deleting certain texts but not others. This is a long story but basically this is where it ties with these whole parallel universes bollocks. One evening last week, I was in bed after watching something online and I had this massive, MASSIVE vision of this dude raping a woman in Chile. In Patagonia to be exact. I first ignored it thinking what the bloody fucking fuck but the vision kept coming back to haunt me and I started to freak out. Either I was going completely ballistic this time or maybe – JUST MAYBE – it was the real thing. It just wouldn´t leave me alone. So through a series of events, I started talking to him again. This time I got curious and I was very determined to know more about this. I wanted to investigate, whatever it took.

Well, it just took the hell out of me. I always put myself in trouble because of curiosity and because of my love for investigating people and uncovering facts. I just love doing it. He had previously told me he was a guide in Torres del Paine (the famous national park, which I also visited last month) so this thing wasn´t really that farfetched considering how many tourists he met there. I told him about the vision, but I didn´t tell him it was a vision. I told him it was the beginning of a novel I had in mind because I like to write stories. This is where everything – EVERY FUCKING THING – started to go south. After I narrated a short version of this story (without any mention of rape) in third person and with hypothetical characters, he asked me directly whether “I would like to be raped”. He then described to me what is essentially a rape scene, this time (since this was his narrative not mine) with real characters: me and him. Him raping me. I will save you all the details and many other things because I really can´t talk about it but he solicited naked pictures and videos and told me at some point that he “liked that I felt scared” (it was in relation to something we were talking about). I have been having a very difficult time with this.

No, I am not scared because he has no idea where I live. Even the airline had my old UK address so I am not scared of that. I am just hurt. Through some further investigation I learned that he has actually not worked in Torres del Paine for the last 4 years. This and the conversation we had gave me the chills: what if that vision I had wasn´t just a product of my own fantasy? I keep wondering what the hell happened up in those mountains and to whom and I can´t find any peace. This is where I think parallel universes come into play: what if this visions, like some of my own weird dreams, is something that comes from a parallel universe? Like, from another version of me in there. Perhaps this version of me knew the story. I have no idea because these dreams and now this vision, torment me to my very core and I am still not allowed to know. I still am not allowed to know what is happening with me. I cannot ask because “no one can tell you”. WELL FUCK YOU. Fuck you, the B52s, Cindy Wilson, and the whole fucking story. All I want to do now is grab this guy, push him against the wall and ask him: what the fuck happened? What the fuck have you actually done? But I can´t even do that. All I do is cry and get drunk in the hope of drowning this vision and get it off the face of the Earth. I have no idea what the Universe is trying to make me do or what message this whole parallel universes shit is trying to send me. All I know is that I can´t take it any longer. I just can´t.

Who is going to be held accountable in a place like Antarctica? Who is going to prosecute this guy? It seems to me that no matter where these men are – whether it´s Mexico, US or now even bloody Antarctica – they will never be held accountable for the crimes they commit.

I am in a great deal of distress at the moment with this vision that I still can´t get out of my head. This is bloody fucking insane. The whole thing is fucking insane. I know I cannot ask anything, I know I cannot ask for help, I know that, as per US government standards, I have to suck it up and shut the fuck up. I get it. It has been like this for over a decade, what more do I need to know? I honestly completely broke down today and I shouted and cried for hours. I then drank, got drunk, then cried and shouted for a few more hours. After doing this, though, I realised one thing: that John Titor, his government of pussies and dementia boys, and the entire fucking US whorehouse can go and directly fuck themselves. All of them. FUCK YOU. 

One thing I got out of this hell hole I am in is some clarity. Now I know where I wanna be, what I want to do and who I wanna be with. Now I fucking know. I will work my ass off to get there and there is absolutely fucking nothing this US government of pussies can do to stop me. Watch me.

Again, FUCK YOU

 

-        Stella