Here are the events as they happened to me on the day of May 14, 2018.
I will not speak in actors – this is a bad connection for me. I will simply write it as it happened to me.
Before I start I am at a loss as to understanding why it was necessary for me to change my internet service provider. Here is the example: it must have been before 2004 as my mother was still able to speak when I had gone to the post office to pick up the mail. There was a Verizon truck that was following me, listening to me – I do not understand the why. I told my mother about the event.
I believe now that my mother had to have been spoken to or with either directly or indirectly.
Still, I am at a loss as to the why in all of this.
Why bother with me?
Why listen to me?
Why follow me?
Why, why, why, why, why not just leave me alone?
Since, it is impossible for me to give up the way I see things just as it is impossible for me to voluntarily stop breathing as it is for every person – anyone heard of a suicide by voluntarily ceasing to stop breathing? I didn’t think so. It is as if to say I can command my heart to stop beating as well.
I cannot.
Forget the traffic it was not a help. However, I did hear in my head on the drive, a powerful man.
I responded with, a powerful man to whom?
Walking in to work, I hear a man’s voice – I see him at the guard house of the White House. He is slightly bored. This only has to do with the amount of activity at his job. It is not the same as I see in a lot of men I am around. This is not a critique, or a statement about his work. It is simply what I saw in that moment. I said in my head, he likes his job, it is a cush job.
Then, I hear a woman’s voice – I see a small office of multiple computers. Is there a window? Because it is lit artificially. This is her office where she works. I don’t see anything else.
Walking on my regular path, I am stopped to speak. I see him immediately in a hydroxy cut shirt, however I must speak to another man.
Small talk.
Cut the small talk.
You both know why you are here. You know what is about to take place. You know what is going on.
I don’t.
Cut the small talk.
I could work on that because in all of this I am not good at it since I am at a lack of understanding.
Still, cut the small talk.
How can I help?
As I am working, I look and listen to HC shirt.
Bluetooth and surveillance knowledge: CH is my name’s abbreviation. When I would write to my mother CH was my name, my sign name, how I communicated with my mother. So, you understand the significance it was used in Seattle back in 2013. Signs all over Seattle with HC written on them. I did not understand what they were for, why they were being used, so I never followed them. Also, Firestone. The envelopes from Firestone had HC in a circle printed on them for several months in 2014.
HC shirt has kept his mind clear, his job, education, finances this kind of stuff I do not see in him. He has an important job, but here is the problem.
Overwhelmed.
Hiding – not willing to divulge full details.
Not wanting to share.
Hiding is the best way I can describe what I see. If you asked him a question he would answer truthfully. It is not a matter of not speaking or sharing the truth.
He does not want to believe – the threat. That this can happen. That this could happen again. Our way of life is threatened every single day. Isn’t this the reason why our military is in use? At home and abroad.
I ask myself questions, is he underfunded? No.
I don’t remember every question at this time.
Is he under supported? Yes.
This man. HC shirt does not have the support he needs.
How can I help?
Another man’s voice. You want me to give an assessment, and evaluation of this man’s military career? He does not pass go. Conduct unbecoming. Is this true? It is what I saw. Is it true?
I am in the room with everyone.
And?
Unafraid.
Unashamed.
Unimpressed. Here’s why: they set it up, so I would be out of my mind sick. I was nauseous, I had very little sleep less than a few hours. The best way I can describe it would be alcohol poisoning. I was not hung over as I was still sick two days later. It wasn’t really alcohol poisoning it is simply the best way I can describe it. I was unable to move quickly, think as fast as usual. Not to mention the everyday soggy underwear I have to live with, and what feels like hydrogen peroxide bubbling on my vaginal lips and pubic hair. And, you think it is real when I flip camera’s off, yell at people, etc. when you have no idea what I am dealing with on a daily basis.
It had been set up, so I belonged there.
I am in the room as it happened in real time.
This time is difficult to explain, to describe. I took time in making sure, of validating, of checking my well of truth before rushing to my computer to write about it.
I cannot see the exact actions that are taking place. It is serious business. This is not child’s play. This is not a game. This is not a test. This is happening.
The best way I can paint the picture is it felt like a mission.
I can’t breathe. Something is stopping my lungs from expanding. I can’t breathe. I speak it in my head, I can’t breathe. Then, my breathing returns.
There is a problem. Is this true? I see movement while their eyes are elsewhere? Is this true or staged?
Then, it happens again. I see it from a different direction. Is this true? Or is it staged?
I hear celebration and congratulations. I say, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Because however, drastic and fatal the event may have been it is not over.
I simply cannot celebrate.
Today, I cannot celebrate.
I see in my co-workers they are not aware of the events that have taken place in my head. All night, I see they have no knowledge of what has taken place.
Specifically, this is done because of the night of 4/23/2018. As I hear President Trump through a slightly-varied voice of my favorite brown-eyed man.
I disagree a lot with this brown-eyed man. He doesn’t want me to disagree with him. There is confusion between us as to the difference between aguish, upset, unhappiness in isolation, and disagreement. He doesn’t want me to be upset with him, however I am greatly unhappy with the arrangement I do not get to change, alter, or control.
I hear in my head they want to know how I knew it was President Trump speaking. This takes a few minutes to clarify. I understand because I read on every person’s mind, White House, White House, White House, White House. It’s like being yelled at as I walk by.
Because as I enter that building – usually before I enter – there is such noise in my head. NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE. A lot of what happens in my head amounts to reverberating noise that travels throughout my whole body. It is not simply a matter of hearing in my head. It is NOISE. NOISE. NOISE. NOISE. NOISE. NOISE. NOISE.
It is a wear, and wearing on me, my body, my system, etc. For $12 an hour. I mean, give me a break. Cut me some slack.
Speaking and hearing in my head are hard enough, then there is so much of this other program that generates and creates nothing but problems for me to work around and through.
I yelled at the brown-eyed man on April 23, 2018, I would do it again. He should be so lucky that I wanted so much, I was feeling so much that I yelled at him.
However, it is not a good working practice this is the conflict for me. The two cannot exist in the same space. It is either one or the other. Because the loss of intimacy in my life is unbearable. It creates falsehoods – this is the best way I can describe it.
I stop everyone and everything suddenly and immediately. Fighting in my house. There is fighting in my brain-house. I CANNOT HAVE THAT. I WILL NOT HAVE FIGHTING WITHIN MY OWN HOUSE.
That building is an extension of personal brain-house there cannot be any room for fighting within. It is unacceptable. Unacceptable. I will not allow it. I have zero tolerance for in-house fighting.
I leave work early because I am too sick.
Upon returning home, reading the newspaper, I see his picture. Photoshopped, altered in many places. This dead body picture was taken while lying on the ground then photoshopped to appear as if he was sitting. I see blood splatter all over his clothing that has been photoshopped in black. The head is different from the body. The turban is different than he would wear. The eyes have been photoshopped, so they appear alive when the two bodies are dead. The head is altered to make the body and head appear as one when they are different. His left hand had been moved to take the photo from where it lay.
I am uncertain if that was everything. Those two men in the photo are dead. Or am I incorrect?
The size of the man’s hand is significant. Ask my favorite brown-eyed man. Or maybe he doesn’t want to share pillow talk with the entire world. It’s a brain thing.
Is that everything?
Timelines and deadlines are unrealistic.
The budget I have to work with is unrealistic.
Puzzle Pieces:
Do not forget it was me on the first date in my home that said Event Television. Referring to The Royal wedding of Princess Diana and Prince Charles, and events that became Event Television – ET, Spielberg, VR.
Or am I wrong?
WE - DO NOT AGREE! 