She led me on. She tricked me. She asked me to marry her, but she was being deceitful. The Entire Fucking Time.

All of my suffering for her was for nothing. She never had a single fucking care in the world.

The more she pulled away and the more I saw her friending strange people, the more I pushed for an answer. The more she withdrew. The more she made excuses.. “I’m not doing this tonight, I’m so stressed from work. I’m too tired.”

Yet she’d spend hours online. Joining more and more slut troll groups, friending people in them? And tell me they friended her, she was just clicking buttons.. Ahh the lies..

But the truth comes out.. and what do I find?

She waited until November before calling it off entirely.  Yet Look what I see here.















Oh too tired to talk, but hey, no problems showing off your body to strangers in a fucking troll group. And this is but one group I saw, out of the 40+ she is in.

But wait, more than just cleavage…

My Boobs are Somewhere

Gee, I hope Matt got a good look at your tits. He seemed desperate to see them, and hey, you are a fucking exhibitionist lying slut.

Seen Your Boobs








She would send me pictures saying “I’ve never done anything like this before, I can’t believe I sent you that!”

Yet right fucking there “I’ve seen the tatas”

I’d never have wanted to know this bitch if I’d seen this side of her first.

The worst thing is, back in August 2014, just after she started work, just after her spinal surgery, just after she started to get her life back… There was a this posted in that group.. “If you were cheating on your SO, you can tell me. I won’t judge.”

her reply?

not worth it





So, while I was sending her money, sorting out my visa, my passport, tying up loose ends here so that I could move there to marry her, take her away from the pain she was living in, be that husband to her and help her take care of her boys, to give my life for her…

She had no fucking intention at all of ever even going through with it. Now she tells me she just didn’t have the heart to tell me. Someone who cares would not flirt like a slut in groups that are created SOLELY for that purpose. And not only does she slut around in them, she abuses people based on their appearance. Making fun of people with 5-heads and so on. yet in another group, she gets all butthurt when someone body shames people. She’s a two faced lying cunt..

fat head

To know her as I thought I did, to see this is disgusting. Not even I lower myself to attack people based on their appearance. She really comes from the gutter.

In the process of me losing my mind, she also turned everyone against me. In the group we were in, that I left on my own volition, she took it upon herself to tell her side of the story. After forcing me to remain a secret all that time. To protect her, you know, in case the guy she was lying to found out. She made me some evil monster, and suddenly everyone was de-friending me. No reasons, no words.. just one after the other.. They lapped up her sob story and didn’t even ask me a thing. Wrapped around her narcissistic little damn finger.

She warned me right at the start that she was trailer trash, and a mental case. I didn’t believe it. The person she pretends to be is too nice. The person she really is, is a disgusting succubus. And It is intolerable that she walks away unscathed while I am left to not only pick up the pieces of my life, but start all over with a broken heart.

She took my life, like a play thing, toyed with my heart, broke it, realised she was now bored and wanted to play with her facebook cunt friends. Mommy Wars. Drop that Rebel Bass, You still Can’t Sit Here.. blah blah blah.. and more and more.. each week she friends new scumbags, joins new groups.

Pretty impressive for someone who is always so exhausted. So tired. In so much pain.

Someone who tells me that she is deadly afraid of being caught with Pot, because it might cause problems when she leaves that prick she is living with, in terms of custody.. Yet goes and gets pulled over, with weed on her, and then tells me “Nah it’s nothing. I smoke weed with the boss in the car park all the time.”.. Her mind is a mess.

All along, every lie she told me. All the times she told me how many guys she fucked, how she’d hit on guys in bars for free drinks, and I thought the past is the past.. She wants me now, that is all that matters.

What a fucking dumb fool I am. I was willing to cross an ocean for her. She wasn’t even willing to speak the truth, not fucking once.

She was doing this to me the entire time….

Fuck You

She admits to sucking cock, fucking guys and never speaking to them again, purposely going out of her way to hurt someone, cheating and not feeling guilty..

Ohhh.. that one is a ripper. Because the first thing I said to her when I realised all of this was going south, was a little tale about how she used a guy years ago, who she was going to marry, but within the space of 2 weeks while he was at boot camp, her blog started to change “I just don’t feel the same yano? and I don’t think I should feel bad because I’ve done nothing wrong.”

One after the other, she strings guys along. The only reason she is with the latest sucker even now, is her spine needed surgery and she has 2 kids with him. She certainly has no emotions. She is a selfish fucking whore.

Karma will get her back. Karma and the caravan of life.

Fuck you  Lyncore….

Homebrew Pt 2

As impossible as it seems, the brew is still going well. It’s going to take time, I can tell. A hydrometer reading was still off the scope. Stupid beer hydrometer. But even more insane, a taste of the test draw revealed it has no abhorrent taste. Still sweet as all hell, but to be expected.

Constant air lock activity, not as active as I would have wanted, but no signs of ceasing the boil. A semi pleasant wort smell, and in all honesty, a fairly acceptable taste.

Certainly not a good taste, but from how I concocted the insanity mix, it seems to have worked rather well.

The cooler temps and the fact that I used bakers yeast will obviously result in a longer boil.

But having the setup running again, I can anticipate a trip to the brew supply store and a purchase of some goodies for the next brew.

Ahh it was funny, trying to open a dialog with Jody. Why did I even bother. A lost cause. Just as with Dary and her disgusting troll friends. I am just going to stick to my hobbies and forget I even had a heart.

sugar shine…

Desperate to keep busy, the only hobby that still keeps me in any way content is brewing. I’m shit at it, but that’s not the point. I can’t catch fish either, but I love fishing. Shame I cannot combine the two…


So, sans any real ingredients, I google’d a plain sugar brew. Obviously to make “fuel” in my still, so there is no need for it to have taste beyond not being fetid. ;)

6kg of plain sugar, with 1kg of that boiled with 1 can of tinned tomatoes, some vitamin B complex tablets and 1 sachet of bakers yeast, to create the yeast nutrient. I dunno. It’s a vague step, one that may very well result in 22 liters of foul water that will be ditched. But you cannot succeed unless you attempt.

And tinned tomatoes.. what else are they any good for?tomatoes

In my 25 liter brew tub I added boiling water and the remaining 5kg of sugar, mixed it till all dissolved, and then after ensuring everything in the tomato puree was sufficiently blitzed with a bamix, and everything had boiled, dumped that into the tub and added cold water up to 20 liters.


Checking the temp, it was slightly under 30c, and knowing it was probably a little too warm but having read people upward of 35c have had vigorous fermentation (albeit with more esters and fusels, just heads and tails to discard) I dumped in 2 sachets of bakers yeast. Again, no ingredients, all going on kitchen based shit…

SG reading was off the chart initially, I’d guestimate about 1055. my hydrometer only goers up to 1040. cheap rubbish kit thing.

I really hope it gets down to a reasonable level, meaning the yeast has eaten all the sugar.

Tandaco Dry Yeast. Fingers Crossed!yeast

1:35pm 10/04/15 it was closed and the air lock is in place.

The yeast was years old so I am either going to have no activity or slow activity.

I have successfully ferments with this before, a rather explosive banana brew. well, 2 liters of fruit pulp sugar and yeast, which exploded all over the place upon opening, to the fragrant stench of wine and slight banana. I never did get to drink it.

The nose on this wort is rather interesting. definitely has the vitamin b to it, but also a pleasant tomato tinge. It will be interesting to see how it tastes before distillation.

If it gets that far. But if it does, I will turn 20 liters of wort into 5 liters of spirit, which I will run again and then charcoal filter. even if 2 liters of clean spirit, that will keep my “alcohol heater” going for some time, and not bad for shit just laying around the kitchen.

EasyStill-Gear-Patrol-Full2:05pm 10/4/15 – Happy to see air lock activity has already started. slow, but there. Ahh relief ;)


And now for something completely different…Facebook can fuck off. :) every one bar 3 people on there are worth talking with, and I cannot justify the pain I suffer every time I wonder what she is doing, in her sordid pathetic world. It occurred to me recently, she told me not to think about her “Real Life” friends. I guess when you say you’re going to marry someone, you are seriously playing them along if you don’t even consider them “Real Life” to you…

Roll on Home Brew, I don’t care if you taste like fucking sewer water, I can hold my nose. And I’ve bought worse over the counter before.

welcome home winofiend. back to where the only one you can hurt, is yourself.


I have no idea what to do any more. Completely exhausted. Nothing left to focus on, nothing to motivate me, no goal to achieve or place to rest. Just the same thing, the same endless pain. Trying to be positive is so tiring. I can’t play guitar, I can’t code, I can’t do anything bereft of anything good inside of me. To have meant so little to someone who meant so much to me, crushing every cell in my body. I want to scream at the world. But alone, no one would hear.

This prison cell, this coffin, this miserable existence.

To yearn and crave, yet teased. Once more taken advantage of… I just have no idea what to do any more…

Going Home

Here I sit, sober, aware of my situation, my so called life, the things I’ve failed to do, the things I fail constantly at doing… without substance or hindrance to my thought process. and I realise I have only one option. The worthlessness of my life has taken it’s toll. rendered me far too broken for repair. I cannot even begin to describe the heaviness in my heart. and it is always this way. always. there are never any alternatives. it’s why I closed my eyes to the world for so long and hid.

and yet, here I am, once more.

I now promise to myself I will never open my heart again. I will never speak words of love to another. I will never show feelings.

I now promise to myself that I have a time. I have a specific day. I will ease myself towards this day, and with deliberation, with conscious effort, painlessly, and without mistake, submit myself to peace. Ahh that relief. just knowing I have this promise. Whatever now happens, can happen. there is nothing that can harm me any more. to close my eyes and sleep. no regrets, no loss, no anxiety. all released back into the universe.

I cannot win this game, so I move over for the player who can.

When, will be decided. I have time now. How, is already decided. but I will not rush into something without first having pondered it for a time. it is MY promise. and not for any one else to have input in.

I write this, I guess, to allow resolution. When the day arrives I feel it only appropriate to write once more. but until then, I will write no more.


Utterly beyond repair…

I waded through the human soup, the endless stench of morning frailty and complete lack of self hygiene, and through it all my mind raced. One thought after the other, none waiting to have effect, but all combining to destroy my concentration. Absurd morons with pathetic issues, numbers, words. Racking my brain to even retain the simplest of things I needed to know, where had it all gone? How was I so lost. I arrived, and with not a coin in my possession, forced every step to the journey towards the place where I felt exposed. Revealed, a fraud, a shell. Entering the glass doors, I pressed the button on the metal plates that would transport me to the place I dreaded most.


I made it into the room where there were people milling around a coffee machine, and had to get a glass of water. My heart was pounding, I was sweating, my eyesight blurry. I could only run on auto-pilot.. and then I was at the desk. Someone had moved all my things, am I at the right desk? Did I somehow become so confused? No, this is where I had spent hours. I logged in, and saw the numerous emails flooding down, none of them making any sense. meetings, tasks, replies from arrogant fucking cunts who could have worded their responses better but instead felt it was acceptable to ridicule someone for not knowing something. The bleakness screamed at me, my mind was gone. blank. I could hear every single word spoken around me, every mouse click, every tap on the keyboard. my tasks were simply foreign to me. I had no idea how to clear my mind and focus, and it was getting time to take calls. I couldnt swallow, I couldnt speak. I couldnt move, I was shaking inside and out. the sweat dripped down my face and I felt nausea, weakness…

The only thing I could do was flee. without a word, without a look, I went. I walked and walked and walked. If I stopped I would crumble. I was broken. beyond repair. how had this happened AGAIN. my heart still races, I still cannot calm myself, I am still burning with shame. I walked to the job agency who for so long had tried to help, and walked into the office. A familiar face saw me, smiled, asked where I had been, they had been trying to contact me. I felt a slight sense of comfort before I could barely speak once more, trying to explain what had happened.

Back to square one, in a world full of squares, that never seem to change. I am just that fucking useless. the guilt, the sense of worthlessness is oozing out of me, flowing into everything. if I could drink right now, I would be dead by the morning…


The Imaginary Friend.

Once upon a time, there lived a little girl. She was a very sad and sick little girl. She was sad because she was lonely and spent all her time in bed, because she was so sick, and couldn’t ever go out to play. The doctors didn’t know how to help the little girl and she was always sore and so unhappy.

One day she decided she wanted a friend, and so she made up an imaginary friend, someone she could play with and talk to and have fun with. But no one could ever know about her imaginary friend so she kept him inside a tiny wooden box. Every day she would open the box and talk to her imaginary friend, and they’d have so much fun. They would spend hours just talking, playing together, laughing, sharing stories. She loved her imaginary friend.

But no one could ever know, so every day she would have to close the box, and hide it so no one else never knew about him. They wouldn’t understand why she would have an imaginary friend.

After a while, her imaginary friend became so happy to see her, that he told her  that when she was better, he wanted to leave the box and become real, so they could do real things together. They talked about how they’d play and have fun and just be friends forever and ever. The little girl was excited about this and said “Oh yes, can it be now? I wish it was now.” and that made her imaginary friend so happy. So he waited in the box for the day that she was better, and he would finally become real and be with her in the real world.

One day, a new doctor said to the little girl, “I think we can try something to help!”. But the doctor wasn’t sure if it would really help, only that he would try. The little girl was so scared, because she wanted more than anything to be better. Her imaginary friend knew this, and he told her that she was stronger and braver than she thought, and told her that she will be even better than she was before she was so sick. And so the little girl took the medicine the doctor gave her.

At first, she didn’t feel a lot better. But soon, she started to feel like she could get out of bed. This made her imaginary friend feel so happy, because now she was getting better, and soon she would let him out of the box and they could be together. They could finally play in the real world, and he wouldn’t have to stay in the cold wooden box any more.  “I’m so happy !!” he thought.

As she got even more better, he heard her start to go outside and start to play with her old friends that she hadn’t seen in so long. She sounded so excited and happy to be able to play like she used to. But now, she didn’t open the box as much any more. But that was ok, because he knew that when she was really better, she would let him out and they’d do all the fun things they talked about.

But more and more, he heard her playing outside, laughing, having fun and she didn’t come into her bedroom as much any more. Her imaginary friend was stuck in the cold, dark box, wondering what she was doing. And even though she didn’t open the box every day any more, he was just so happy to hear her laugh and to know she was getting better. But now. when she did open the box, she wouldn’t talk about the things they used to talk about. She would just talk about how much fun she was having with her real friends.

One day she opened the box and her imaginary friend asked “When can I come out of the box, and be real?” but she didn’t answer. She just said she was too busy now, and didn’t have the time to talk to him as much. Less and less she opened the box, and her imaginary friend sat in there, alone and sad, still waiting to be real and to be with her, because without her, he would never be real.

Until one day, she opened the box and didn’t say anything. Her imaginary friend said “I want to be real, when will you let me out? When will we play and do all the things we talked about?” and the little girl replied “But you’re just imaginary. I can’t be real friends with you, can I.” and closed the box.

The next day when she opened the box, she saw that it was empty… because it had turned out that the little girl was the one who had become real, and her imaginary friend had simply been a story she told herself.

The end.