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Knew it. I jinxed myself.

In the three weeks since my last entry I’ve been collecting defeats. Hard to pick which terrible moment to relive first. How about my therapist having to drop me because- surprise, surprise- I turn into a dog sometimes. To be fair to my therapist it wasn’t so much her decision as it was the lawyers of the company that ultimately owns the practice she works for that decided I was a liability. They could no longer see me as a patient there or anyplace else they ran. Wonderful.

There is some sort of twisted irony at work since the same parent company that refused me as a patient also owns the pharmaceutical company that makes about half of my Kanis Syndrome medications. Make it make any sense.

So yesterday was my last session with my now ex-therapist. Despite being heavily medicated and knowing it was coming, I cried during our video chat. Which of course triggered a transformation right then and there for my therapist to see. Any progress we had made in our time together my transformation that day clawed back. My therapist was required to contact my handlers (Still hate that moniker. Like I’m some show dog.) and I had cops knocking at my trailer door at the same time we should have been saying our goodbyes. I sent an email this morning to apologize but it bounced back as undeliverable.

Dr. Sease has said he’ll find me a new one but it may be a few weeks. Maybe if that was all I was dealing with I might be able to see myself through without my usual two sessions a week. But my life is never one thing at a time anymore. I feel like a clown’s sidekick in a field of rakes.

Causing me nothing but added stress has been everything to do with my income stream. To explain I have to go over those two folks promising me fortunes for letting me be their dog for a while. Turned out neither was what they seemed. The one, I call him el Cheapo, turned out to have no money at all and was hoping I’d simply fulfill their deepest fantasies because they were very nice. Wasn’t the only lie as it turned out and after I asked them some hard questions they ghosted me. All their accounts deleted. Not a peep from them in nearly two weeks.

Shitty as el Cheapo was, the other one, though flush with cash, had ulterior motives that came out during some late night conversations. I’ll call him Hal because that’s his name and I don’t want to forget it. Hal dropped more and more hints that showed his true side. The kind of thing a woman picks up on- Kanis syndrome or not.

He was talking about not letting me turn back, denying my medication to me because ‘wouldn’t it be fun?’, asking for my address, and other things no normal person would say. I was getting wary and was thinking of cutting it off when he offered and paid $7,000 up front to record my crotch changing; something that he knew was off limits for me. I refunded him the same damn, hard as that was to do, but that apparently wasn’t enough. Hal went ballistic and took the rejection like a spoiled child.

He got my two different payment processors, the two I use for 90% of my income, to ban me forever by saying I was dealing in ‘obscene fetish content’. So far my appeals with them have not gone anywhere and they’re refusing to release what money I hadn’t transferred to my bank back to me. So I’m out that few hundred and can now only take money through a processor no one has heard of or uses. Limiting my income down to a trickle the past week or so. I do have some saved up from my boon period to tide me over but I’ll need to figure something out or I’ll be back where I started.

Hal wasn’t done either. He got a whole smear campaign going in the last week that’s saying all sorts of horrible things. From me not really having Kanis (somehow), to me saying all sorts of horrible things I never did by doctoring chat logs, sharing other private messages, pictures, and videos. Was doxxed again two days ago. Cops just called to check in, I said I was fine, and then they told me to keep a lower profile before hanging up.

Keep a lower profile? I’m literally existing at the fringes already and that’s still not enough. Somehow it’s never the fault of the people tormenting me or trying to make my life hell. I, the victim, am to blame for how other people (primarily total fucking strangers, mind you) feel and react to me. I have a hard enough time managing my own expectations for myself but apparently it’s my duty to do that for everyone I meet too. Either that or I can just crawl into a hole and die.

They don’t say the ‘and die’ part but they might as well. Kanis would go away forever if me and every other infected person and dog wasn’t around anymore. All their problems would go away if I just wasn’t around to rile folks up with my medical condition. Keeps me depressed, withdrawn, and in my trailer. Everything they want except for that ‘and die’ part. The cop on the phone wanted to say it but hung up first so I wouldn’t hear. That’s modern courtesy for you.

The woes continue on the job front. Unless you consider reaching 1,000 rejections a positive milestone. I sure as shit don’t.

Dating is keeping in line with the theme with me actually thinking I met someone genuinely interested in me. Again, I think my desperation is opening me up to letting things slide that I shouldn’t. I agree to meet up at a public park a town over since it's open and a walk is a cheap date. I get there early to scope things out and I see a large group of people gathered at the tree where I was supposed to meet him. There were at least ten of them, all with dogs on leashes, talking and looking around like they were waiting for someone. What really set off alarm bells was the single large dog crate they had. One of those that’s solid on every side and might as well be a tomb.

I kept driving all the way home and deleted every dating profile I had. I’m taking a break from relationships. I hate this.

That’s most of the worst. Family who acknowledges me is still just Aunt Margot. I got an email over the weekend from a cousin Joseph I don’t recall all too well. He's from my mom’s side and is some great-aunt’s kid’s kid that I wouldn’t have seen since they were a toddler, if they are who they say they are. I might reply or I might not. Maybe Margot remembers him but I ain’t holding out much hope. Her memory has never been that great. Time hasn’t improved it any. Not like I have anyone else to ask.

Writing this out is helping a little but what I really need is a new therapist, some real friends, and to go just a week without an episode. Yesterday’s change was a very lucid one that didn’t feel very pretty. My ex-therapist certainly thought I looked bad with all the grossed out faces they pulled. I don’t even remember the pain from the transformation. Just the emotions and the guilt that always comes after. The dog in me is a real bitch.

Friday I have an appointment with Dr. Sease at his new office down in the city. I’m sure I’ll get chewed out for yesterday’s episode but I’m more worried about the trip. It’s early so I have to get up and deal with rush hour traffic and roads I don’t know. I wish there was someone who could take me or I could trust myself on public transport but neither is an option. I’m going to spend all of Thursday meditating and chilling out so I can try to handle a simple appointment.

Oh, I nearly forgot. One of my meds, fuck knows which, is making me nauseous with a side of cold sweats. I hope Sease will be able to give some guidance on this. I’ve got enough to worry about without adding sweaty barfing to the pile.

Life’s a bitch and so am I. Sigh.

*******

It’s ten past three in the morning and I can’t sleep. The meds and the day I have are keeping up uncomfortably wide away. So I’m going to write and hope and pray and beg that I fall asleep. Because I am just done with today. I’m tapping out. I just want to be not awake anymore.

Day at the doctors went not so good, as my writing this at this inhuman hour should make it super obvious. As per usual things didn’t start out badly. I got up before dawn, took my medicine, got dressed, double-checked my route, had breakfast, and left an hour earlier than I needed to. That bought some relief. But not much.

I missed some of the rush hour traffic. But this is a major city whose road system was designed by committee almost a century ago. So gridlock is a matter of course, rather than time. Twenty minutes away from the hospital turned into forty really fucking quick. I was relying entirely on my gps and my calming playlist to get me there unchanged. It was working overtime.

Beeping, sirens, school buses, double and triple parked cars, people popping out of nowhere, people passing me on both sides randomly, stop signs being suggestions, and sooo many other little things made it really, really hard not to lose my shit. Honestly don’t know how I did it and didn’t end up dead or trying to work the wheel with paws. Which is one of my biggest nightmares, by the way.

I pulled into the parking garage attached to the medical facility feeling like I just made it across no man’s land. Probably why I chose to actually use my handicap parking pass for a change. After that drive I was run ragged. Last thing I needed was a long back from whatever level I’d find a normal spot on. The medical facility was a short walk through some automatic doors and I was at the front desk.

Staff at this new place was very impersonal and cold, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. For my condition in particular it’s a godsend. Was a slight issue with it being my first time though. They gave me forms even though I told them I wasn’t a new patient, just new to the office. Got sent to the seventh floor, which was wrong. I needed to go to the eighth. Then another person tries to give me the same forms, leading to me having to explain again, and finally checking in.

The office must service other doctors or something because when that woman at the desk saw what I was in form her demeanor got frigid. She whispered to another worker and then both were staring. Even when I stared back, they didn’t really try to hide what they were doing. Having Kanis means having to deal with unbroken stares like they’re not the weird ones. I just take out my phone and wait for my name to be called.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait…

And what is the point of an appointment time if you’re not going to keep it? Especially if I get billed a late fee for being fifteen minutes late or not canceling two days ahead of time. I waited for an hour and forty-five minutes to be finally called by a nurse. Finally.

That nurse takes my weight, blood pressure, temp, and tells me the doctor will be in soon. After yet more waiting (thirty minutes!?) another nurse appears. I do remember this one from the last office at least. Too bad she was one of the nurses that treated me more like the dog than a normal human patient. Why do I think a vet would treat me better? If the vet was nice and a shorter drive, I would not feel bad about making my check-ins with a vet tech. I would have been home by then for sure.

Anyway, I got my blood taken, checked I’m taking my meds, asked about how many episodes of transformation I’ve had (I lie and don’t mention all those times I changed for money. They wouldn’t like that. But they don’t pay my bills either so that’s our little secret), and lastly asks if I’ve had any issues. I tell her about the anxiety, stress, depression, the side effects from the medications like my throwing up, the drowsiness, not being able to dream, and putting on more weight (12 since last visit), and put on twelve pounds since my last check-in two months ago), and being wicked constipated. I problem I could only reliably solve by transforming into the dog first. Hardly convenient. Right?

She ‘yeah huhs’ through all my complaints and appeared to just be marking off boxes on the computer as she listened. When I finished I got curt, ‘That it?’ and when I was done the nurse bolted. No time frame when I’d see the doctor or anything. She just left.

Twenty minutes later and well beyond my actual initial appointment time, I see Dr. Sease. He was his usual stern, lecturing self who did at least give me a full examination. I was told two medications I’d be taken would be changing. Not because they were the ones making me sick (they didn’t much care about that). No, it was just a change of name and from what the doctor said, ‘might give me new side effects’. I asked if any old issues I had would go away and he, no joke, laughed. ‘No’ was his answer.

The exam with Dr. Sease took the best part of eleven minutes and I was sent back to the front desk to make an appointment for two months out. After he left and I was getting dressed it hit me again that I’d be doing this shit for the rest of my life. The appointments, the drives, the people, the waiting, the stares, taking medicine that ruins me, and shit would never end. I’m not mad at the Kanis Syndrome. Not like it’s making a choice here. I was learning to live with it. The problem was everyone else.

Okay, not every single person but generally speaking. You ask most folks and they’d never want someone who could turn into a dog, and then do the same to them, anywhere near them. I can stealth through their world somewhat but days like today I’m reminded I’ll never be totally invisible. I bet if I got standard on some uninhabited rock in the middle of the ocean I’d only have to wait a week or two before a ship came to tell me they’re uncomfortable with my condition. Hooray rescue?

Where was I? Right, leaving the doctors and where any chance at a good day ended.

So it's late morning by the time I’m headed out the door and back to the parking garage. In my head I’m planning out my route home thinking the drive will be the most stressful. Turned out just getting into my car would be my stumbling point. I’m fishing out my keys from my purse and I hear someone walking by. I don’t think twice about it since I’m right next to the entrance so I go to unlock it when I hear a heavy, congested breathing behind me. Then I’m jabbed in the ribs by what turned out to be a cane.

If I recalled the conversation verbatim I would honestly, despite all these meds I’m on, run the risk of turning so I’ll summarize.

She told me that spot is only for handicapped folks, that I’m horrible, my generation is awful, and all that malarkey.

I tell her it’s mine and that not all disabilities are visible- like her being a mummy walrus Grimace impersonator. She was a wrinkled, hunched woman wearing a purple mumu and I had a long morning, okay? It was a poor, if colorful, choice of words I’ll totally own up to. Doesn’t mean I was wrong or that I take it back. Because no matter what I said, if it wasn’t me dropping to my knees and apologizing she wouldn’t have been satisfied.

Leading to her doing what she did, which was to try and hit me with her cane. I knocked that shit down and told to leave me alone or she’d regret hatching from whatever egg she was born from.

I used to be really nice, I promise. Living this life really turns you into a bitch. But only if I’m provoked like this, I would point out before things go the way they’re about to.

So she shouted and said a lot of curse words for a woman with that big a gold cross hanging on her necklace on top of the purple bedspread.

Feeling my blood getting up and what was happening, I did what I should have from the start and ignored her. I tried to get into my car but she started screaming and got the parking attendant’s attention. I ignored this, got into my car hearing her tell him I assaulted her and that I stole my parking pass.

A glance at my plates and any person with a lick of customer experience knows to let me go while telling them lady to fuck off. They’d say it nicely but that’s what I would say and what they want to say. But this guy was scared and decided to step in front of my car so I couldn’t pull out.

I am doing my breathing, I’m trying to be calm, trying to be cool while the situation spirals. Stupidly I rolled down the window the tell the attendant the woman is just nuts and my stuff is valid when fucking Grimace waddles up and spits in my face.

Like, who escalates to that shit? On top of the disrespect and all that, I don’t know what this bitch is at the medical center for. What I have can’t be spread by saliva but I’m not spitting in strangers faces either. What if she has some super flu? Or Covid? Or who the hell knows what else? And to make it worse, she’s started horkin’ up another wad of spit that I’d never get my window up in time to block.

The attendant just stared dumbfounded at this woman instead of doing something. So I did. I didn't get out of my car or spit right back at her or attempt to throw a punch. But I did have some defensive pepper spray on hand (From well before I contracted Kanis. As a woman I like to be prepared) and hoooo boy, did that little canister pack a punch!

Got 90% of it right in the face. It was like holy water on a demon or something cause she screeched and keeled over where she stood. For a few seconds I was immensely satisfied. One of the rare feelings that doesn’t invoke my transformation. What does though is that remaining 10% of pepper spray that either dripped onto my hand or splashed back. Enough to get my ears itching and watering and hurting and my heart was racing and I think you can guess what happened.

I hit my alert app and had the wherewithal to slap the orange and red ‘KANIS BIOHAZARD’ sticker on my driver’s side window once I got my window back up. My tail is sprouting by then and my ears are getting tugged into my dog’s shape. There was a moment where maybe I could have pulled myself back- maybe. But that sour grape wailing away outside just brought up too many emotions for it not to escalate to full blown woofs and fur. I hope it gives this woman a good fright and teaches her a lesson about hidden disabilities. And to MIND HER OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!

The change was the sort I was more familiar with as of late (thanks to having slutted myself out a few times, I had some better control and understanding of my transformation. In twenty-six minutes or less I would turn into my Siberean Husky-Australian Sheepdog mix form. This wouldn’t be one of those times I’d totally lose myself to dog thoughts so I could keep myself under a reasonable amount of control. Got out of most of my clothes, which the attendant was confused about. Until he saw the sticker. Then he was all about clearing the area and calling the doctors. Pretty sure he pissed his khakis when he caught a glimpse of my deforming, balding head.

Transforming inside of the car was one of the most uncomfortable experiences in my uncomfortable existence. My car isn’t as packed with shit as it had been but it wasn’t really spacious. So I’m trying to get out of my clothes in this tight space with people wailing nearby, my eyes burning from the pepper spray, and my body becoming more dog by the second. I must have looked like I was going mad or something (you try getting out of a shirt with paws in a compact sedan with itchy tears) because a fire alarm got pulled. Cue more insanity.

The order of events is impossible to remember, at least as I’m writing this. I may have been lucid through the change but it’s hard to think outside of myself turning the transformation. Less so during those times my brain goes more dog than me. All that to say, what follows isn’t chronological. Some of it might not even be logical.

A slew of different people approached my car to tell me about the alarm only to realize quickly or slowly what was happening to me. A couple apologized but all of them ran from me like I was living fire.

None of those that came were medical personnel. Or any emergency sorts that normally arrive within a half hour of me hitting my alert. I would have expected being at the hospital for my condition and in the middle of such a major city that response would have been quicker than ever. I’d come to find out that the alert had been considered an error as it was determined to have come from the doctor’s office and considered an error. A fucking error. That error on their end earned me a reprieve for having lost my cool but it’s discouraging to know that can happen.

The fire alarm would be turned off and a few people walked by having just parked and freaked out when they saw me. Which led to,... yes, the fire alarm being pulled again. Chaos restarting about the time my hands, feet, and pelvis were more canine than human shaped. I had gotten my shoes, socks, and jeans off before my hands were pawed.

My ears were ringing and eyes still burning, watering, and being stuck in that driver’s seat transforming was torture beyond the usual indignity of it. I caught a lot of camera flashes throughout from the curious or appalled. Two dudes were tapping at the glass and taunting me like it was some zoo exhibit. A real boost for my confidence.

Then the first actual emergency vehicle came and… it’s a tow truck coming to move my car. With me in it. Still changing.

This dopey dude with the tow is getting ready to hook me up when it finally dawns on him that there is a writhing mass of me behind the wheel and a fucking KANIS sticker. First time I’ve ever seen a tow truck driver nope out of a situation faster than that.

As predicted, about twenty-five after losing it on pancake house Thanos I was the barking dog in the car with the windows all rolled up and no owner. The second alarm was turned off and for ten bizarre minutes it was like life went back to normal. People were parking or leaving the garage, passing by my car, and almost every one never acted like there was an emergency going on. The hell is wrong with people?

Eventually a group of people led by Dr. Sease arrived to find me curled up in the passenger seat footwell- still wearing my shirt from the appointment. I felt stupid and must have looked at it as the doctor was more understanding than usual. Didn’t stop my driver’s side window getting smashed in so they could open the door. Something I could still do as a dog. But the emergency dude had a crowbar and he wanted to use it. I’m to be reimbursed but in the meantime my car was towed to a storage lot. That’s a problem for tomorrow.

I got to spend the next nine hours in observed isolation basically doing nothing. I laid there, heavily medicated, hormones giving me a migraine, in a lit room, waiting for my body to revert back. They provided no food or water or paid attention to my whimpering and whining with the migraine splitting my skill apart. What they did do was monitor my vitals, take blood samples every hour, and crumpled some bed sheets together in the corner of the room for a ‘dog bed’.

It was humiliating. One of those times I wish I didn’t have my wits while transformed like that. Everything dragged on and on and on. I finally changed back four hours ago and despite being tired, ashamed, naked, and carless, went through a long examination and questionnaire about it all. When it was over they tried to call a cab but no one would take me. I got driven home in the back of a mini-bus driven by one of the nurses. Who told me ‘tomorrow will be better’ when I was getting off.

Forgive me for not finding solace in ‘well it can’t get worse, right?’ sort of thinking.

Having Kanis is really a diagnosis of ‘it can always get worse’ in my experience.

Tomorrow will actually suck and I’ll have to make phone calls to track down my car to get it fixed. Otherwise Aunt Margot is back on chauffeur duty. And I hate leaning on her like that. But I’m probably going to have to if I’m going to pick up any of my medications this week.

Feeling at least a little sleepier now. Getting this all out helped cool me down. Wish I could solve all my problems so easily. Instead expect more disorder and chaos next time I write. Maybe a meteor will crash into my trailer and blow it up with me in it. Fucking ugh.

*****

A week since last and I’ve been mired in shit the whole time. Still no exact word on my car, I’ve had that third payment processor suspend my account for ‘review’. Meaning I have no income unless people wanna mail me money orders or hunks of gold. Got a letter from the company that owns the parking garage next to the office saying I wasn’t allowed to park there for ‘insurance’ reasons. Feels like that’s illegal but I know well that the courts aren’t going to be in my favor. A few new laws were passed across the country last Friday to restrict where those with Kanis can go and how much of their, sorry, MY medical experiences could be covered by the government. My toilet has also been back up inexplicably the last three days. So like, a truly shit week.

All the stuff with my car and last week’s incident wore me down. What has me really scared, anxious, and trying to keep my emotions in check is that a sizeable effort is being put into fucking over just a few people in the name of unfounded paranoia. Millions of dollars spent to hurt some people who just want to be left alone to deal with a problem they didn’t choose to have. I know other places are against that sort of thing and I can certainly avoid some places to not have problems but, like, I shouldn’t have to?

That notion just keeps coming back to me and it gets me down about the future. Aren’t there better things to be focusing on? The planet is dying, half the world is on fire, the other half started it, and the only thing that everyone can agree on is that Kanis folks like myself are the biggest problem. Pretty sure all those millions could have been spent on a million other things that actually improved the world in some way. Nah, just fuck me in particular I guess.

I’m just ranting entirely as an aside since reading the news this week caused 3 changes this week. Two of which ate up three and half days; either changing, being a dog, or changing back. You’d think I learn and just not read the news but being ignorant of the world around me, that wants me dead or gone, feels more dangerous. Ignorance is bliss until you wake up one more being dragged away to never know bliss again. Always told myself I’d rather know a bad truth than a rosy lie. Times like these having principles fucking suuuucks. Writing at least helps keep me from getting too out of hand.

In other news, one of the new medications I’m taking I have to pay for out of pocket. To the tune of five hundred a month. Dr. Sease is at least understanding and is trying to get a dispensation or grant or something to cover it for me. If it were a medicine I could live without, I would definitely live without. This particular medicine however is what allows me to keep some measure of control through the transformation and while I’m a dog. I don’t take this and the dog runs things and I’m lucky to remember anything.

Because when I’m in no way present in my body, the dog is angry, scared, hungry, and often times needs to relieve herself anywhere that stains. I’ve come to think the dog is newly birthed into the world each time and simply has the same panicked reaction any frazzled dog would. Having that happen every time I changed would destroy my income stream just as hard as this payment processor ban has. So I will have to dig into what little I had saved up so I go wild dog every time. I can’t afford not to in the short time.

In what passes for positive news in my world, I’m more certain now that Joseph is probably who he says he is. Margot recalled a ‘Joe’ and asked around the family. She learned there was a cousin Joe on that side of the family and that he’d always been something of an outcast. That all matched with what he was saying in emails about having left the family for their sexuality and had little contact with them. I asked how he found out about me and he apologized before admitting it was from recognizing me from a few of the viral videos about me. He’s in touch with one or two other family members on that side who confirmed I was really the family’s biggest black sheep.

We’ve been catching up over email up until last week’s terrible trip to the doctors. We started messaging each other at that point and getting to know the other better. He’s got a good sense of humor, sees me as a person with this condition, treats me with respect, gives me a lot of grace knowing I’m dealing with a lot of things, and agrees with me about the political stuff I raged on earlier. I do talk with others who are understanding of my woes but they only know me because of my condition. Joseph is family and we would have connected at some point I’m sure. So I’m just happy to have a friend I can trust who knows me for something other than my turning into a dog.

Joseph messaged me just now about meeting at a diner for lunch in the future. I’ll have to disappoint him and say I can only go out to eat safely at ungodly hours of the morning so as to not risk an emotional outburst. There is also the matter of the drive. He lives about two hours away and the diner is about halfway in between. As I don’t have a car that puts a wet blanket on any ideas and- oh, yeah he just messaged to say this would be for after I solve my ‘car troubles’.

Thirty-two hours without an incident and counting. If I can’t sell my changes I’ll see about getting a new streak going.

Now Joseph is suggesting a late night movie and then going to an all night diner after. That’s really nice of him but I don’t know if I’m up for that big of a leap. Also, and I can’t underscore this enough, I have zero romantic interest in Joseph. He’s not my type and we’re not that important of a family to go all Habsburg. He’s family, he wants to help, just like Margot. I don’t know when this will take place but the simple fact that he adjusted so readily to accommodate gives me hope.

Did I just jinx myself again?

******

Upon a page worn down by frustrated erasures and angry strokes a text forms in a shaky hand.

I have been struggling to find the words to sum up yesterday and the three weeks leading up to it. To cover every detail would be to send myself into a dangerous place. It’s also really hard to think much with the double doses of numbing agent in me. Head feels stuffed with cotton balls to stop me losing it. But I will say this: I didn’t jinx myself. I was fucked well before I said that.

So my cousin Joseph is actually some numbskull fuck spigot named Tyler Prost, who is also some internet bro with a podcast, rich parents, and too much time on his hands. He and his cronies make a living off screwing with folks in elaborate pranks. I guess he’d seen some of my videos, found the ones I was selling, and from there got going on his slow burn scheme. Lied to me, betrayed every secret and trust I had for his personal fame and platform.

I had no idea about any of this the night before last when he finally convinced me to do that late movie-diner date. I’d been reluctant for lots of reasons but there was a movie coming out that I wanted to see and thought in a safe, quiet place I might be able to do it- with a lot of medication. He’d paid to help get my car out and repaired so I also kinda felt in his debt at that point. I’m sure compared to the money he’ll make from the video it will be a good investment.

The movie started just before midnight and I got there early to scope things out. Nothing seemed amiss when we met and got snacks. He’s a little edgy and looking around but he’d told me he wasn’t used to going out either, so I chalked it up to that. Get in the theater and it’s completely empty. No one would come in either. Not entirely unheard of for this hour but it was a new movie and the lobby was pretty full.

Turned out the motherfucker had rented the theater out. Not for the movie I wanted, mind you. There were no commercials or trailers or anything before the ‘movie’ started. What played when the lights went down was a crude, shameful montage of Kanis transformations- including my own. Not-Cousin Tyler fucko is cackling with laughter. I may have been wary and heavily medicated but I couldn’t handle all that emotion. Just like they wanted.

This human enema shouted ‘Bitch is going!’, the lights go up, and out comes his cronies. With lots of cameras. I remember trying to run but they boxed me in. Sounds of my own transformation played while they took me in the middle of the row. Things would get hazy after that. I was overstimulated, humiliated, and unable to escape. I recall having a real fear they might hurt me from the start but knowing it would happen when someone led their German shepherd in. Course he was male, not fixed, and even in that state knew what they planned.

Turned out that the dog saved me though. It started barking loudly and people in other theaters complained. The theater’s manager had been told this was just a private viewing and was furious when he saw what was happening. The kid working the projectors was a fan of Tyler’s show and had offered the theater up, thinking it would fly under the radar. Instead last I heard he and a few of Tyler’s bootlickers are still in jail while things are sorted out. Mind you, they’re in trouble for trespassing and damaged property and other such things. Nothing about me…

I’m grateful to the theater manager and the seventeen year old girl at concessions who called the police, got those fuckers out of there, turned off the projector, and actually saw the real victim here: lil old me. The concession girl had the guts or brains to get close enough to see how scared I was. She kept close and knew to use the alert on my phone. Stayed with me until emergency crews arrived and dragged her off. It didn’t do much for me at the time but if it wasn’t for her and the manager and some other staff, that could have ended badly for me. Knowing what I know about Tyler Duckfucker now, very, very, very bad.

Yesterday was spent mostly doing interviews with investigators. Despite being the victim here I was told several times that it was a mistake to go out at all given my condition. That I shouldn’t have trusted so easily or sought a connection in the first place. Yeah, I feel stupid about that, but he was making a concerted effort with the backing of a whole team and lots of money to trick me, a person with a medical condition, for views and likes. When they saw me getting upset I got dosed with more numbing agents and the interview continued.

I was told most of the douche canoe’s videos of me never got a chance to be uploaded before it was confiscated. Some live stream footage was all that made it and that had been taken down. I haven’t seen the footage and never want to. I know what it looks like when I change. All his videos would add is his cackling laughter and stupid jokes at my expense. I need that like I need three heads and a job in hades.

I slept for twelve hours and was a drugged, zombie state up until an hour ago. Figured I’d write this so I can remember how absolutely horrible it felt to go through all that. Another fucking perfect example of people going through extraordinary lengths to traumatize me. Not because of something I did or some opinion I have. I’m a freak with no other use than to be laughed at. With people either willing to laugh or happy to see me dead, it’ll never end for me until the very end.

There is good news like having found a way for people to ‘donate’ me money in order to have an income source… but I can’t enjoy that small little morsel of positivity with dark clouds everywhere. I can afford my medicine now… maybe. My toilet is working for the time being however now the ceiling in the bedroom closet is leaking. I also think the whole experience soured me on the movie I wanted to see so I lost that little glimmer of hope too.

I think I’m done trusting anyone again. It’s just too risky letting someone. My new therapist straight up told me (this was after I met Joseph but before his reveal as captain prolapse) not to let people get close without really feeling them out. Easy to say when she doesn’t have Kanis. I think I’ll just never trust anyone or make a real friend again. That way I can avoid this hurt ever again.

I’m taking some medicine and going back to sleep. I don’t want to be awake and dully aware anymore. I set my alarm for two days from now, an hour before my next therapy session. Until then I’ll live in bed under a mound of blankets and pillows. No visitors allowed.

*****

After reading through my last journal entry and having had a couple months pass I’m glad I was wrong about the trust thing. In extenuating circumstances, maybe I can trust again. And that something good can come out of a bad situation.

So once I’d cooled down and some time had passed I took the advice of my therapist and sent a thank you to the theater manager for his help and made special mention of the concessions girl. I wasn’t expecting a response but he did send one. I also learned the lovely girl’s name, Kelly. As it happened, she had been hoping to hear from me and through her manager we were able to connect via email. Can’t say I was nervous as to why she wanted to contact me but she’d been so kind during those frantic moments she earned at least a chance.

Kelly told me about her older brother, Nick, who contracted Kanis young and Kelly was just a baby. Like me, he was attacked by a unleashed dog while at another kid’s birthday party. He was in his late 20’s now, living at home, and was incident free for a couple months. Even has the same doctor as me. I was gonna take the risk and ask for his contact information but Kelly beat me to the punch.

Well me and Nick have been talking every day since so I’d say I’m learning to trust again. We’ve not met yet as we’re both wary but we’ve chatted over audio and played some games together. We’re getting friendly and I’m just happy to have that with someone who understands what I have to go through. Most don’t care and the few that do can only really empathize so much. Hearing him talk about the same struggles that I do, even fifteen years plus with the condition, does stop me feeling so alone.

I’ve learned a bunch of coping tips and it’s great having someone to commiserate with about all the woes that come with Kanis. Nick’s case has him becoming a Great Dane and meant he was homeschooled from a young age. Then attended online classes to graduate with a computer engineering degree. He’s able to work, has a few friends, a great family, and a pretty positive guy for what he’s been through. Not going to spill all his secrets but he transformed on an airplane, during a wedding, and during a job interview. I tried to tell him he might have had it worse than me. Nick reminded me there are so few of us with Kanis that there’s no reason to compete for the hardship Olympics. We all had it bad and all deserved sympathy.

I haven't happy cried in a long time like I did the night Nick let me ramble my brain off at him and he honestly listened, agreed, and agreed that I was right to not trust him. With what we have, the stigma around it, and the exploitative, straight up violent way we’re viewed, if we’re not cautious letting people in we won’t survive. Nick would have never trusted me, even after hearing about the whole thing on the news, if his sister (who Nick loves and truly trusts. Their sibling bond is so strong it’s heartwarming. I’ll never have that with my older brothers) hadn’t vouched for me. He’d had his trust broken many times over the years so that he gave me a chance meant a lot. So what if it triggered a transformation? It was worth it this time.

Since then I might have changed a couple other times from our chats. Nick has never changed while we’ve been activity chatting or talking but he admitted it happened a couple times because of me. One from that similar good feeling you get from connecting with a person on a deeper level. The other time came earlier this week when the theater chain and Tyler’s group settled up behind closed doors with no criminal charges. I only found out about that because he wasn’t messaging me during his usual hours and I asked Kelly about it. Was so sweet and meant a lot knowing I mattered enough to someone.

We’re reluctant to meet in person despite for a lot of reasons we both share. It still feels too soon and we’re both waiting for the other shoe to drop. I think with time we’ll be able to get past our misgivings and doubts. Might take a year or more but I’m in no rush and neither is he. We have our Kanis, some movies and games, and a general outlook on life that’s similar in common but not much outside of that. We’re both content with things how they are. I really hope we stay friends. I’m going to need them.

Nick came through in other ways, like helping me set up some dummy accounts and other tech magic so I could go back to slutting myself medical condition out. I was afraid Nick would think less of me for the videos and fans I have. While he admits being too shy to try himself, he had thought about it and saw me as trying to survive and that there was nothing to be embarrassed of. Just said to be careful. Which I go through great lengths to ensure I am these days.

In other news, I’ve been applying to ten jobs a week and then collecting the rejections to send to my caseworker for my monthly check. I have no prospect at this point of being employed in my old capacity and profession with this red mark burned into my records. I’ve stopped feeling bad about it and gave up on any kind of career. Not living in abject misery and having control of my condition is all I want now. A much lower bar that I’m guaranteed to trip over, knowing my luck.

Elections are coming up and I’ve already sent in my absentee ballot (Yes, I can still do that). For a lot of people they’re thinking about taxes or inflation or housing or religious overreach. While I’m hoping the party generally apathetic towards Kanis wins over the one that wants to put me in jail and make killing me ‘a matter of public safety’. I know I have family, probably my parents, voting for the murder party. Not because they want their daughter dead but because they're worried about the ‘bad ones with Kanis’ and think somehow ‘they’ll help you’. I know this because I secretly follow my mom and brothers on social media.

Telling them ‘we’re all the bad ones to them’ wouldn’t help, even if they bothered to listen. Kanis, to them, was something that took their daughter, their sister, away from them. I wasn’t who I used to be in their eyes. I was ‘diseased’ and the cure needed to be brutal to make up for their anger at how I’d been ‘taken’ from them. They hate Kanis more than they love me and I’ll never forgive them for that. Or the rest of idiots voting for a party of hateful idiots.

Totally unrelated, I’ve taken a hard break from social media and get my news filtered through Kelly. She’s attending college next year for journalism and has a real knack for giving bad news without triggering emotional outbursts. Wonder where she learned that. Limiting my exposure might help me deal with the worst kind of news if the election goes badly. I don’t have the money or resources to go to another country. And to be fair, not many countries could be considered ‘pro-Kanis’.

I’m stuck. Nick’s stuck. Our fate’s aren’t in our hands in an election where Kanis is a talking point or ‘wedge issue’. Every voting age Kanis sufferer could vote and we wouldn’t add up to a half of a percent. Have to rely on people like Nick’s parents and Kelly (when she’s old enough to actually vote) to convince others to have a little empathy for us. That’s as much of a pipe dream as a cure from when I’m sitting today.

Nick’s being optimistic for both of us. Being pessimistic for us is my way of contributing to the friendship.

The roof is leaking in other places now. Guess I know what I'll be spending my money on once I have money to spend. Assuming I’m not jailed for existing by the state. I really fucking wish I was joking.

Therapist made a big deal about me getting into a habit of writing more and ending entries with more upbeat energy.

Thinking… thinking…

A candy bar I really like that I thought they discontinued came back. Same recipe too. I bought two boxes with the few pennies left in my account. When the delivery came and the taste and smell hadn’t been altered? Jeez, I was changing after the first bite. And for the rest of my doggy day I ate more. I barfed a lot. Kept eating. No regrets.

The dog in me would have been proud.