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September 11, 2018
There is a very big problem for me about. I am very unhappy, so I am not writing nor am I reading. Because the teacher is still about. She and they are still about. I am greatly, greatly, greatly unhappy, very, very, very unhappy.
Don’t like red, like blue. Don’t like blue, like this. Don’t like this, like that. Don’t read that news, read this. Don’t use this picture, use this. Don’t wear that, wear this. Don’t do that, do this. Don’t do it the way you like, do it this way. Whatever it is I like, I enjoy do it another way. Don’t walk this way, walk that way. Don’t go that direction, go this direction. Don’t walk how you want, walk this way. Don’t place the stickers how you decide, do it this way. Don’t go here, go there. Don’t write beards and men or with authority, write like this. Don’t do this, do that. On and on. Without an end? Ever?!
Will there ever be an end to this mindlessness? To this mindless drivel?
I am so very, very unhappy.
I could say it was the leaves that caught my attention first, but that would be inaccurate. It was the rose that caught my attention first, and the color. Wow! Really and truly, wow! Personally, wow! I have yet to have the time to enjoy them. Still, wow! How very lovely. What a lovely gift.
How a small gesture can make all the difference in the world. How a small gesture can create a tipping point in events.
I am not able to work any faster than I am. I am unable to turn myself into this version of the teacher – let me show you the picture I see from she and them, half-crazed, unwashed matted hair pulled up, dirty-faced with no make-up, sweating, panting like an animal, unable to think for myself.
Let me remind you it is their job, her and their job to keep me employed. Not to be coached by she, and her, and them.
I am unable to pay attention by being written up at work – ever again.
She is not a reflection of me. I see her. I see them standing behind her. She tries to put on a front of congeniality, upbeat, she is a buffer and a front.
Last night, I see them gleefully happy at my being so worn-out, worn down to a nub, so tired from lack of sleep to accomplish a task list of chores, racing against a clock, so that I can hardly move a muscle, or pick up my feet, or move – or think.
Because I was helping. I was working with people with governments, agencies, law enforcements, official personnel, or I was not. Either I was helping them search through locations, or I was not. Either I assisted, or I did not. It is either one or the other.
It takes time to go in my mind and brain and look, see, picture, and then say, answer, or show what it is I see. It cannot be rushed. For a reason.
My job will not require a purchase to stay employed.
I am so very, very, very, greatly, greatly, greatly upset I am sick.
It is obvious to me what needs to be done. I am sick with having to buy products this way or another, or a teacher task list, or a drive route weaving. I have reached my end.
Because I stood up for Jeff Bezos as the real owner of Amazon, at work it has been turned into a heavy weight pressure against me. Because Jeff is not a she.
I am sick.
I am just so sick.
I am so upset with sick I am no longer going to write.
My brother, as I have seen him most recently is scared. He looks scared. I don’t like that.
I do not bring these world leaders, I do not go to them, they are brought to me. They are brought to me for a reason. They are placed in front of me. I do not go to them.
Either I warned people – for real – of real danger and real threats that were eliminated, or I dd nor. I am not seeking this out. I am not doing it for fame or glory. I would rather never be in public view ever again.
David, you have never loved me the way I loved you. I loved you enough to want nothing but your happiness and have love. You have denied me and not allowed me to have love or be loved by a man who loves me for real. For years, and decades. I loved you enough to want nothing but the best version of yourself. Greater than you thought or could imagine because I believed in you. You have not done the same for me. I am forever changed in how I feel about you because of these years.
I am not able to play pretend couples anymore. I am not able to lie about this and these men. I want them to go back to their wives and stop trying to play at stories that could never be. I am not able to look at a proxy and pretend that it is another man and that we are involved or a couple.
I will have it for real or nothing at all. This and I have not change since this became known to me in 2014.
I am too sick with upset to write about my cats.
I am too sick to think in food at work anymore.
I am too sick with upset to write anymore.
She told me she coded my time. That tells me she could not figure it out. Good. For it, I was written up, punished, penalized, and I am sick.
She must pay for what she has done. I am forever changed, my body is forever changed, she and they have taken something from me that is not ever able to be corrected.
You should have seen the look on my face when a nurse asked me if I was going to freeze my eggs when they were getting about to cut me open because I knew that she knew there was no way I could afford such a procedure.
I am just so sick.
She says last night, I brought this present. As if she could ever be me. How many years must I say she is not capable. I have quite literally blown them out of the water with what I have done.
Either I was helping London with solid buildings that in my mind I cold only describe as hot because it was bing, bing, bing, ping, ping, ping all over the place, or I was not.
Because she and they saw me driving with the radio on full-blast in my car for years and years believed that was the extent of my value and talent. My car is an office now. The radio has been removed because of it. It is an office I do not get paid for. Either I do the work, or I do not.
Now, I am not able to purchase bacon or fake bacon because of a game?!
Either it is real, or it is not.
If it is not real do not present yourselves at my person anymore.
If it is real, I am too sick with upset anymore.
I will not write any more. It could be a permanent change. It could be a forever change.
I am just too sick with upset.
I am not writing anymore.