San Francisco Is Dead

I’m leaving. I was attacked again in the street near my house, and I really can’t live like this. I have lived a life of people committing violence against me and this is enough. San Francisco is lawless. It is out of control and failing as a city, as a place for people to live and work, and as a liberal social experiment which has become an exercise in lassiez faire for social ills. It is beyond dangerous.

I am sitting here in tears. This was my last best hope at staying with my son, and at happiness. This was a place of rest for me, and for restoration. Now it has become an trial of survival. The screaming, shouting, fighting, fucking on the street, drug dealing, constant chaos out of control has got to the point of total horror show intolerable war zone noise and fury. I cannot live like this. San Francisco is dead. It is over. We have people being attacked in their homes, in the street in broad daylight, and it has become impossible to simply survive. I have terrible PTSD, and it has now got to the point where I can’t function and live in the Tenderloin. I simply have to go.

I am hurt. I am scared. I can’t go to the cops because I am illegal, and yet had to talk to them, which was very scary for me, all because San Francisco is allowing mental illness to rage rampant on the streets and me and the other residents have to live in a literal madhouse. It is horrific. This shit has to be contained, and yet it is not. Nothing is being done. The police have their hands tied, the City is failing and meanwhile what is the Mayor and the DA doing? Nothing. Not unless you are beyond rich and live in Pac Heights.

There is so much I want to say, but I am hurt, I am shaken up and I am frightened.

To everybody that has read and kept me company over the last two years, thank you. I was hoping to give you all a happier ending. I was hoping to be able to tell you I had got another better book deal with someone who was not a psychopath. I was hoping that I could share happy news, success, and give you a story of survival and regeneration. Instead it has come to this.

I am ok. Physically, I am bruised and shaken up, but managed to get away without too much damage. Mentally I am petrified, and quite rightly too.

I’ll bid you goodnight for now, and try and make a few posts to keep people informed of what comes next. I think I need to go back to the country of my birth and just face the legal music. I was hoping I would get longer with my precious boy. Oh well. I tried. I will survive in some kind of way. I always do. I don’t know how to give up totally. Perhaps I can take this Hague shit to court and win. Perhaps that is what is meant to happen. Who knows.

The Boy said he will sleep on the sofa tonight. I feel terribly unsafe. This is like living in a warzone, in a totally failed urban hellscape which is crashing and burning as we speak. The ship is sinking. San Francisco is dead. Long live San Francisco. Don’t bother wearing a flower in your hair, though. It will only mark you out as a target.


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