If she’s spiritually horny for him, he’s basically her owner. Means they’re a soul match (and this is extremely rare). Can’t be faked, manipulated, reasoned, rationalised or otherwise willed into. It’s either there or it’s not, whether she likes it or not. Take it up with God.
— Anton, October 11th, 2025
I don’t need a health care professional. I need someone who could shoot down about a dozen drones following me everywhere. That would make me feel better.
You know all this time I grovel to you because I don’t want you to get into trouble. I don’t want to see you hurt. Or for something to happen to you.. even after everything you did. Because your friends aren’t going to hurt me. I didn’t fear for my life. I fear for you.
— Salisa to Anton, August 5th, 2025
I thought I was writing a love story. I thought, this is Shakespearean. This is biblical, the love these two people had for each other. And so I was writing it from that point of view. Meanwhile, the whole world was viewing it as a crime story and nothing more.
I remember when I briefly got back together with Sebastian that evening in 2019. I believe it was before 2020 and before Phuket. The evening at his new apartment. The evening when he asked “what are we doing?” and I told him he should leave the country. I remember it distinctly because I could feel that something wasn’t right. […] Could this be the man who was head over heels obsessed with me? It surely didn’t feel like it. Something just wasn’t right with this picture. I think I frowned. Confused. Unsettled. Disappointed. All this time.. all these years.. I think I’ve transposed the obsession of Anton onto the image of Sebastian. Perhaps even before I met Anton in the flesh. Could I have been in love – all this time – with the wrong man? Even if partially so? Was my relationship with Sebastian actually obsessive and intense? My compulsion towards Sebastian, was that real? Or was it just a fiction to make everything fit together because I didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle yet?
You couldn’t make this stuff up. All very fantastical. Fantastical: fanciful; unreal; whimsical; capricious; fantastic [Merriam Webster 1913].
She asked [the security guard] whether when I left I had a bag with me. The guard said he didn’t remember that (I am then reminded that this was the day I went to the mall with no backpack or electronics and still got intercepted). Por said to call her when I return home no matter how late. They then called her at half-past nine in the evening. I am then also reminded that this was the day I saw two movies almost back-to-back and the second one ran late into the night that I had to exit the mall via the back-entrance service elevator (I took the opportunity to wander into the emptied-out parking lot and not only did it seem surveillance-free – I do my own reconnoitering however pointless it seems at this point – but it was vaguely evocative of that low-budget stalker horror called “P2” starring the very charismatic Rachel Nichols). After I returned home that night I messaged Anton, “I’m okay. Not going anywhere. I hope you are too.” I mean who knew if Anton had personally arranged for the check-in. It could be local SVR because my death would end up sparking another crisis (I think the young man who approached me was a trained operative) but nevertheless I thanked him for it.
Friday […] it’s Chris De Burgh. “Lady In Red.. is dancing with me 🎶”. This guy. Maybe you know him? Chris De Burgh. Irish guy.
— Anton to Salisa, July 21st, 2025
He was “active now” on Facebook at around 7.30am this morning when I woke up. Maybe he actually does *care* about me. I wasn’t in a good state of mind yesterday. Actually took a few racy-cum-demure selfies for him in red bra late night probably due to the unmetabolised-three-shots-of-johnny-walker in my bloodstream […]
— Salisa, Journal: July 8th, 2025
Which is why I’m *not* walking in front of a truck (I did also stop by the pier area on my way back from the Red Roses concert near Sanam Luang on Sunday and ideate). When the psychomaniac lunatic is here, I think I’ll in fact “clobber his head in” (lover’s spat, crime-of-passion, totally justifiable to everyone). Then the Russians will come after me. Dead-meat either way but at least it would be *my* choice.
— Salisa, Journal: July 8th, 2025
He mentioned he hadn’t started packing yet for his Germany trip. In about ten days. Then he mentioned how being somewhere was not like being in, say, Phuket for the summer. When he said Phuket, he paused. So did I. I said, “you could come to Phuket if you’d like”. He then pivoted quickly and said he preferred to summer in Europe instead. Then he mentioned the relatives living in Japan – either he thought of visiting them or he had visited them or that they were simply living there. My brain had the tendency to try to block out some of the things he said. The things you could feel were deliberately dropped or framed with motives and agendas behind them. I mentioned the Red Roses concert the coming Sunday – which would be tomorrow. He asked me to repeat the name of the concert and asked, “oh, who’s playing?”. I fell silent and after awhile responded with “I don’t know.” He then said we should be in touch again in a few days.
Salisa lohavittayavikant 