Prior to 2020, Saint Patrick’s Day was a day to drink and celebrate life. 4 years ago today, however, that changed after going to bed with chills and waking up with COVID-19 the next morning.
However celebratory the day had been, in spirit Saint Patrick’s Day evolved more into a day to hit pause and appreciate life, which can sometimes get lost in the slur. 🥴🍻
It’s because of my newfound appreciation, coupled with my father’s death in November 2020, that I launched Fluffer71 three years ago today on TikTok.
Fluffer71 was my way of taking a chance to express myself more creatively, after recognizing that had it been me who passed away the prior November, I would have died feeling unfulfilled in this lifetime, minus a brief period in 2010 – 2011 when I launched cellardoors.me and expressed myself creatively.
What I didn’t anticipate back then was the concerted hate campaign, fraud, hacking, and shadow ban to follow. Led by my mother and other family members, the campaign included bribery and paying thugs within the gay community to infiltrate my life and make up fake profiles and stories about me in an effort to slander my name, leave me feeling isolated, and convince others that I was delusional and insane, so that my mother could maintain control over my life.
Given my revised appreciation for Saint Patrick’s Day, I waited for today to put a big red bow on the moral of my story – My family has been trafficking me since 1978. It’s a big statement, but it comes with a lot of discernment, repressed memories, patience, and documentation throughout my awakening via Fluffer71, when I dared to step off the path mapped out by my family.
Given my mother’s ambitions and thwarted attempts to get me locked up or dead, there’s only one question remaining.
I’m clearly worth a lot more than a house that my grandfather left me.
How much money am I worth, mum?
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