The so-called Sev/Lizz Drama

Part of me believes that neither Lizz Reptile (@lizzzreptile on Twitter, https://youtube.com/user/lizzreptile222 on YT) or her friend Zephanorion (@zephanorion and dozens of sock accounts on Twitter) will stop until they've convinced everyone who's ever watched my content that I am somehow an abusive and psychotic person -- an impossible task, and therefore a constant desire to respond to every one of my messages, and forever pursuing me as their perceived villain in order to maintain the sanctity of their little cult of personality centered around victimhood. As such, I'm making only one statement. I will not post it on my website or any of my social media, as all I've wanted was to get away from this woman and her narcissism.

I want nothing to do with these lies. I want nothing to do with these people who have acted in nothing but bad faith, in the manipulation of facts and constant changing of their story in order to paint me in the worst light regardless of what I do or don't do, and even the releasing of my medical records in order to manipulate their contents and defame me further. But, in a manner indistinguishable from the behaviours of Scientologists, this woman and her codependent friend refuse to think about anything else, refuse to talk about anything else, and act to destroy what is now just one of my livelihoods. However, they are powerless to affect my other job and my new home, despite their attempts to get information on them, and at this point I feel like people should know the other side of the story.

I moved in with Lizz after losing my housing in Seattle in a longstanding disagreement with the manager of the property, culminating in being presented a catch-22 and giving in. I reached out on my YouTube channel for any help I could get, and Lizz reached out, helped me get from Washington to Florida and gave me a place to stay. But from the first days I had to draw my boundaries clearly, and found myself having to mediate between fights occurring between Lizz and her husband, Fred. There was no means by which to mediate though; if she could not win she would begin to whine, scream, make demands, and if that didn't work, start accusing people of working with other people against her. When I arrived, I really tried hard to help. I tried to speak about the same things I talk about on my YouTube channel: personal responsibility, mindfulness and self-analysis, taking the time to overcome oneself in order to overcome the world ahead. But every time, it led to the worst of fights.

The first time the police were called was shortly after I had arrived. I had gone in the backyard with Lizz after a panic attack put me in a very uncomfortable place, and tried to talk and cry it out. I wasn't handling the situation well, at all; I should have been working on something else, thinking about something else instead of focusing on the panic attack, the thing inside. But I can be a very easily swayed and influenced person, when living with other people; I'm deathly afraid of offending or hurting those who help me due to the severity of my panic attacks. Well, I was being loud and the neighbor started antagonizing me. In adrenaline and anger, I climbed up the fence and stared him down until Lizz pulled me off the fence. I was in a terrible state at that point, still recovering from the homeless mentality in which I lived for years before arriving at Lizz's home. And it was something I apologised for and tried to explain to them for weeks before, and months after -- but I kept no secrets from them. They were saving my life after all.

No one was arrested, and the police understood I was just having a bad day. He told me to be very mindful of other people's property, and to call them even if something looked like a fight was about to break out.

The second time the police were called, about 2 or 3 months later, Lizz and Fred and been drinking and fighting most of the evening. At this point it was impossible to miss Lizz hitting Fred and then screaming when he grabs her wrists, flailing until she hits herself with his hands. Or throwing herself to the ground like a child and throwing a fit and crying. It was a weekly, if not sometimes daily, thing, but sometimes the mixture of drugs (or lack of drugs), alcohol, arguments lasting sometimes weeks with Lizz's inability to drop a subject, and the growing Discord server with whom she was spending all of her time, led to her getting more violent behind closed doors and ignoring her husband and her children more and more... she was completely fulfilling her emotional needs at the expense of those closest to her -- not those in the house, or in her public Discord, but the private ones on other, private Discords, in which she vents endlessly to her sycophantic and financially-supportive inner circle while she makes her videos. She wouldn't leave her room other than to use the bathroom for days, sometimes even entire weeks at a time. But on this evening, I step in to intervene and, still being in her good graces and supposedly loved by her, I was able to separate them and, while I was talking to Fred, she called the police. I explained to the police what I had seen from outside the room and everything else, and the police actually thanked me for remaining sober-headed (ironically) in the situation to speak to the police.

No one was arrested, and the police lectured Fred and Lizz to keep their private disputes private.

There was a very bad fight between all three of us, Lizz, Fred, and I, following Lizz growing hopeful to have sex but growing so drunk she became belligerent, and began hitting me. I don't respond well to being hit, and it set off a mix of a panic attack and training in which I pinned Lizz down and screamed at her to stop hitting me, and when she started making accusations against me I put my thumb in her mouth and dislocated her jaw. She bit me, hard, and I just ignored the pain until she let go. In the adrenaline as she made bigger and bigger manipulative plays and accusations, both against me and her husband, I lost my cool and screamed, begging her to stop as I slapped her side, just slamming down in frustrated agony. I was in such great regret that it tore a hole in me that I think was obvious in how poor my content became after a certain point. I broke off all contact at that point except for what I thought was expected of me. If I didn't come in to talk and listen to her rant for at least half an hour once every few days, she would begin making jokes in passing about never seeing me, but I would hear from other sources that she had been paranoid, and then accusatory, of me for not speaking to her in a week. She would pick fights if I ever stood to disagree or stand by my morals or even clarify and draw boundaries. Fights that confused even me, for all I have been through, for their sheer madness. But, at the same time... it's not like I hadn't been there, seven years ago. I pitied Lizz for her opium dependency and alcoholic tendencies, and the extremity of her responses because I had been there too during and after withdrawing from opiates.

But the police were not called on this occasion, so no one was arrested.

I did call the police on a later occasion, when the fighting between Fred and Lizz, and the fighting between Lizz and I, had reached a point of insanity and the only thing I could think was that the police said to call even if it looked like a fight would break out. On this occasion, I walked into Lizz's room and waited patiently, silently, but while I listened to her yell at the people on her Discord server with that manipulative whining voice, I was overwhelmed by fear. I knew that, just by coming in the room while she was working on a video with her Discord buddies, I had triggered another fight, and I couldn't stop the tears from coming. I wrapped my arms around myself and she started berating me, screaming at me for crying while she's working. And this is when the first blackmail recording was made. At my worst, begging for escape, begging to get out because I just can't take the codependent atmosphere Lizz cultivates around herself, and in a panic attack brought on by seeing the perfect storm for another fight, I cried and screamed until she told me she was recording me. So I called the police, and in such a panic, feeling so powerless and driven to the extents of my ability to understand and endure that it was my only choice other than physically assaulting someone. And when the police arrived, I was so terrified I explained as best as I could but I did the one thing that everyone hates about me: I apologised profusely and took responsibility. Lizz came out and talked as much shit as possible, playing up herself as the victim and me as invading her space while she was working despite the fact I was quietly waiting for her to notice me, terrified of the power this woman held over me. She could make me homeless again.

No one was arrested, and I was given a lecture by the police, including them telling me to just avoid contact altogether, don't be nice, don't be anything but avoiding fights altogether.

And that brings us to this summer of sheer insanity. After the police told me to avoid contact altogether, I did for quite some time, to the point where her daughters were surprised to see me when I did come in the house. I sequestered myself in the back room of the house extension, a tin-roof and insulation shed attached to the back of the house, separated by what was once a sliding glass door, but was for the entire time I was there a sliding wood door. From what I had been told, the broken window and sliding glass door were done by Lizz. I had tried to use that back space as private living area, but as I described before there would be difficulties if I didn't correctly predict when Lizz would want me to come talk to her, and when I am interrupting her completely. The ever-present "LIVE" sign on her door, a sign that was never taken down and thereby meaningless (was she LIVE while asleep? Was she LIVE when speaking in private with her husband?), so there were certain expectations I would maintain.

I didn't even tell them or anyone that I had been talking to my oncologist in Seattle via Skype every rare often, and after describing symptoms to him including the development of hard, lightly-sensitive, rock-shaped nodes around the lymph nodes in my neck, urinating every hour if not more often, sometimes having to urinate two or three times in a row, immune system suddenly getting much weaker... it was the same symptoms I was experiencing before I had to go into chemo as last time and my oncologist said I needed to get with an oncologist down here, now. That was toward the end of May. It wasn't until long after that that I even began speaking publicly about the cancer, because in my mind I was convinced that needing anything at all would only start another fight with Lizz. After all, that night we fought and I called the police on myself? I was trying to speak to her about it that night. And many occasions before it.

So I spoke in private with a few people at the time, but because of the greater stressor I was ignoring, Lizz, I was a neurotic mess. I destroyed my relationships with people like Nick Goroff and Kraut and Tea, terrified and lashing out at them entirely because I was in need of escaping the situation in which I had found myself and no idea how to talk about it. I would rant at them, rave, and sometimes I was so inconsolable they could do nothing but speak to someone else about it to get them involved, but... by about mid-August, I had pushed away some of my closest friends at that time. And I'm too ashamed to apologise as well, because I had also, at that point, started breaking my morals because everyone around me was telling me how stupid it was that I wasn't just going on streams to get support for my cancer. So I timidly reached out to people and some amazing people helped me as I ran face-first into every wall Florida has to both private and public medical insurance and therethrough, healthcare, supporting me for an amount approaching $5000 which, for 3 months, kept me alive with food, and fuel for Fred so I could take drives away from the house to relax, and I would throw money at Lizz out of fear of fights escalating to the point where they did, I would, yes, smoke more weed than usual to cope with the only way I could continue living somewhere before my private work prospects and searches for a place to live outside of Lizz's place panned out. I focused on taking care of myself because it was what everyone was telling me to do, and it reached a point where I just stopped talking about it because I hated constantly talking like I'm the victim of something needing to be saved -- especially considering I couldn't buy private insurance until Octobre in Florida, and I wasn't receiving my mail in many cases as I filed for Medicaid and Medicare after discovering that. I hated that I sounded like Lizz, that my channel had turned into Lizz's channel, more or less.

I was disgusted with myself in so many ways. I felt like I had violated my principles of privacy, taking my personal problems so publicly as I had. Despite it being plainly advertised that the campaign included living and survival expenses, the very fact I couldn't buy private insurance for 4 months after that campaign had started, and the mail problem I was having with Medicaid/Medicare in Florida, that fund essentially kept me eating, working, coping with the constant codependent stress, and pursuing new home and work opportunities elsewhere. I didn't want to put it on anyone else, in part because so often it is just two or three people who provide the largest percentage of donations at that scale, and at least one of those donators disappeared from the internet after the assistance he had given me, and the unwanted infamy that the donations had brought him.

But this had all been going on in the summer, in Florida. As the temperature rose, both in the room due to its insulation and nearly-useless wall-unit air conditioner, along with the temperatures I could reach with the computer and video cards given to me by a couple of my viewers, it became increasingly common that I would get extremely dizzy and have to come inside. This put me in fear, constantly. And on the night before the blackmail video was recorded, late that night in temperatures above 33C, I was pacing back and forth and my eyes began to white out, and my legs gave out from under me. I don't think I was out for long at all, but Elty had come to my side at that point. She helped me back to my feet and I was filled with fear again. Every time I had passed by Lizz's door for days it had been nothing but screaming and accusations against Fred, and given the only bathroom in her house is right outside her bedroom door it was impossible to miss.

I didn't want to fight, but I didn't want to faint. I didn't want to stress myself out more and risk my health, but I didn't want a fight to start. I went back and forth on it all night, couldn't even sleep. And the next morning, at the urging of my closest friend, I went into Lizz's room to ask them if we could open the sliding wood door between the back room and the main house in order to circulate air for a little bit at nights -- but I walked right into an already heated verbal argument. Fred looked at me with such an angry look, the kind of look that told me to get the fuck out. But I said what I needed to say: I want to ask if we can open that door because I fell last night in the heat and I'd like to avoid that at any cost. But before I could even finish, I was accused of trying to make the power bill go up to $1200 again and a very escalated volume and tone, and after I let Lizz and Fred fight for a while I just interrupted again, stomping off and saying "I guess you just want me to die in the heat then." I said it flippantly and left the room, and Fred followed me trying to convince me that that is exactly the opposite of what he wanted to say. We argued, then we talked calmly, then we relaxed and spoke about different ways it can be managed to avoid driving up the heat too much while avoiding me being constantly in that insulation-trapped heat. He even brought up moving into the living room, which I was against entirely. I was avoiding Lizz at all costs, and being in the living room makes that a lot harder. Plus, her walls were paper thin and I just couldn't be around that much screaming and fighting all the time. He told me he was going to go in to talk to her about doing it moderately at specific points at night and only for like an hour, but the fighting began immediately again. She was accusing him of everything and he was doing everything he could to remain calm and quiet, despite the outright lies she was saying about him. She tore into him like this so much, and... I don't know. I was tired of being disgusted with myself for doing what I should do or doing what I believed in. I was tired of being othered and lied about to maintain the perfection of the victimhood cult surrounding Lizz, and I was sick and fucking tired of having identified as a Men's Rights Activist, doing absolutely nothing to help this husband being actively and constantly abused and manipulated by way of the kids because I had bought into Lizz's constant emotional barrage, and I had given into my codependent traits to appease her.

I stormed into her room and said what I said again. "So you guys just want me to die then?" I was angry. I had been manipulated, blackmailed, accused of every horrible and disgusting thing, I had ruined my friendships with some great people for whom I still hold high respect giving into the only thing I could see around me in my life, and I was being contrary because I had always given in, I had always let her be right for the sake of avoiding her starting a fight. She was recording this too, however, and of course this became a video with which many of you are already familiar. This was much more blatant blackmail, as Lizz escalated and informed me of the recording happening and I was just so upset that she would do such a thing, again, that I grabbed what she was using to record me -- her laptop -- and walked out of the room. She sicced her husband on me, and by sicced I mean sicced. He told me to set the laptop down and I did, gently, but he attacked me nonetheless and while I was able to defend myself with a mix of blocking and hair-pulling, he forced me down to the couch and wrestled me atop Lizz's laptop. And while this was happening, Lizz called the police. I stared Fred in the eyes as I held him by the hair and talked as calmly as I could to try and get us back to conversational, and when he went to talk to Lizz again, he came out with a look of horror on his face. I would later come to find that this look of horror came from her essentially holding the children over his head and him having to defend himself with her previous promises, and also being separated-from and accused of plotting against her with me behind her back. But at the time, all he said was that Lizz had called the cops. So, Fred and I went out front to smoke cigarettes and wait for the police. When the police arrived, they split us up and interviewed Lizz first, then Fred, and finally me. When they interviewed me, I told them about walking in on the argument, trying to get away, getting upset about her constantly abusing her husband, her threatening me with blackmail again and me taking the laptop in response -- and when I mentioned that, he immediately went inside to talk to Lizz again. He was in there for a few moments, and when he came back out he brought Fred and I over and gave us a lecture.

No one was arrested. Part of the lecture reinforced the "avoid contact at all costs and find somewhere else to live" statements other officers had given me. But at this point, Zephanorion came back with his haughty attitude and completely careless display of handling of private recordings, threatening to release them if I did anything he didn't like or upset Lizz again. I wasn't even going to play along with his little games -- and all it looked like from the way he talked in our rare interactions spaced out by well-deserved blocks on Discord and mutes on Twitter, it was just a game, based on how willing he was to lie, clickbait, and do every underhanded and unethical thing the very community to which he reaches out condemns, only to double down and create more of a scene with each passing day. He released the video first, then the audio recording from the beginning of summer, and drama was created by the louder and louder screams of victimhood, supported entirely by lies and manipulation of the truth and editing to put Lizz in the best of lights and me in the worst of lights, without ever indulging the true depths and detail of the situation. Multiple streams over the last month and a half have been dedicated to talking about how much of a monster I am, and I will likely have people lying to defame me in my Live Chats for a long time to come given the number of people emotionally charged by the ongoing dramatic retelling and re-writing of the lies they have to tell about me.

But no one was arrested.

I instead, after Hurricane Irma passed, found a new place to live and one of the bigger gigs for which I had applied finally got back to me with some work that is challenging and extremely satisfying -- so satisfying I've barely had time to make my normal load of videos. I got out and moved on with my life, making YouTube a secondary focus over the last few weeks and making my primary focus the NDA-protected work which I'm doing but can't speak about. And I've had help -- real help completely absent of drama, save the couple hours of drama and stress that comes with my panic attacks, and full of encouragement to do things at the best I can do, instead of playing around with the low-hanging fruit and the easy answers. I've scheduled three phone interviews for this week with Medicaid/Medicare in Florida after finally getting my responses via mail, and will be providing them with everything they need in order to get my oncologist to re-send the referral, and stop worrying about just how chaotic my life can be. Or well, could be.

I've moved on. I have my great regrets; there are a couple things I have done which are, by some standards, unforgiveable -- including my own standards. I have nothing but the deepest apologies for the stress and bullshit which I laid at the feet of people like Nick Goroff and Kraut and Tea, while I was still in the thick of a confused, codependent state. I don't expect their forgiveness or even to accept my apologies, but to those two, and to everyone who has helped me out over the last couple years, I have nothing but apology for the confusing and emotional rants, and for being such an idiot when it came to some (many) parasocial relationships. But as I have no choice but to move on, and to take responsibility for my own life whether or not people want to assist me, and whether or not people can see just how transparently codependent and victimhood-focused this last month and a half of the "Lizz/Sev Drama" has been.

But as I said at the beginning, I don't want to get views or subscribers based on a personal, and even at times emotional, tell-all of my experiences living with Lizz. I don't want anything to do with the woman or her little flunky, Zephanorion, because I have work with meaning to do. But this doesn't mean I'm going to stop streaming. Much to the contrary. Despite the wealth of things that could be used to mock and deride me that have been brought to light by Lizz and Zeph going to great lengths to dox me, I will continue trying to maintain at least a couple weekly live shows, the news show on Saturday nights and the gaming show on Sunday mornings, and I'm going to focus on this new contract job I have, which will lead to other contracts with a man who's very willing to work around any medical schedules.

But I've not seen, spoken to, or even been in the same city as Lizz Reptile for a month. I have maintained my position of not speaking publicly about this issue, because of just how damning what I had to say about myself and Lizz really was. And while I've gone this long without feeding the trolls (much), I thought it was time to create something, separate from myself, to share out when the time is right. Because to me, these people are indistinguishable from any other cult, and having identified a perfect villain who can be easily lied about now that I can't be manipulated, they have resorted to quote-unquote hacking (spelled "searching") and smear campaign tactics -- tactics that if used by anyone else would be labelled feminist in nature if not just outright narcissistic. Not to say I didn't fail myself and those around me given my brain problems on occasion, but I have, under the remarkably psychotic and stressful circumstances, done pretty well if I might say so myself. I made it out without killing myself, and I found a much cleaner, much nicer place to live and a much more stable, challenging, and satisfying line of work to be my primary job while I maintain the YouTube and Vidme channels, as well as the website, for those dedicated fans who don't want me to stop. Sure, some give me money on Patreon, but many of them can't, and I invite them to hang out in chats anyway, because they've been with the show since the early homeless days, and have been nothing but supportive.

It's important to me to thank them, and it's also important to me to maintain the boundaries of parasocial relationships. From there, it's as the old saying goes: the show must go on. There is nothing more I can say or have to say on this matter. I didn't want to have to say as much as I have, and I've gone easy on my attackers, because it's important to me to remain level-headed, and I'm rather kind when I'm level-headed. But now it's all been said. It's up to you to make up your mind about the situation, since what the police and so many others wanted to keep a private matter was unfortunately made painfully public for all involved.