Coffee and Breakfast: No, Teacher

Disclaimer: Men Born Male Only, No Skirt Wearing Fairies, No Transgender, No Tires, No Women Allowed!  No African-America men.

 

September 17, 2018

No, Teacher I will not be washing my car, garage door, and sweeping my garage today!  Fuck you!  I am more important than a piece of machinery or vehicle!

If you haven’t figured it out yet, my blinds being closed – still – is NOT GOOD!

Since last Thursday, since the last food at my door, I have seen nothing but death for me.  Snipers, bullet-wounds, gun-shots to the chest, the head, versions of suicide, no future only death.  I have gotten to the point that I no longer can see much past it.  I have accepted it and prepared my last will and testament.

Military, you will have to leave to my left and my right.  And, The White House pressure is not worth the name.

Disney you will have to leave to the left and to the right – it is…there is just no way.

Do you understand they made a test of the Secret Service Police?!  They did not get very far, yet still?!  You allowed this?!  I was beyond upset for days about it.  A POW, a detainee, I felt was killed almost instantly.  Random killing of children and innocents.  My family.  Not to mention the White House.  Fucking UNACCEPTABLE! 

No, Donna Branda.  My mother would not be proud of me.  My life is not real.  Some things are more important.

The first thing this person does after being released from rehab is to go for my hair?!  This person wants to see me bald and bawling?!  And you allowed it?!  Fuck you!

This person tried to get me to think that Tim could not read me, thought I was nothing more than a fat lesbian that would be content to live alone my whole life.  I know better.  He is smarter than that.  He may not have thought that David and I were supposed to happen.  But, he is not that dumb.

Do you understand we are talking about vaginal reconstruction?!  Is that normal procedure for a hysterectomy?!  I don’t think so.  A woman who has never had children before would have no need to have reconstructive surgery of her vagina.  Do you understand the damage they did in that surgery that someone else paid for?!

No.  That movie is a fucking movie it has nothing to do with cleaning.  Or did you think I forgot how I was lied to for years about my mother’s death?!  It has nothing to do with hands and editing.  You fucking MORONS!

Do you not understand?!  I see them.  I see the sick obsessive, perverse, desire and wanting to control – me.  About my body.  They fondle me visually.  The lines and curves of my body.

Do you not understand, you allow this?!  It’s gross and disgusting!

I was being a good citizen.  A person who would visit a person in jail or prison they knew.  No.  No alarms went off.  No wonder when he was faking and pretend acting.  He never was in jail or prison or arrested or convicted.  He was never guilty.

Of course, we were not buddies after his release.  Why would I do that?!

I guess someone thought I needed the exposure.  Because as he saw when I was talking with him, children do not willingly seek out a person wanting to do them harm.  Do they?

Do children run up with their arms outstretched to a person who wants and desires to hurt them?!  No!  You sick fucks!!!!!!!!!!

How many years and decades have they seen and witnessed the expression on the faces of people of all ages who have never met me before?  They have no excuse.  No excuses.

This is not that difficult.  I cannot believe someone thought there was a difference other than, modes of transportation, places I’d rather be other than where I was, and me, me and my animals, my love for animals, and my ability to communicate with animals.

Real or not, who knows.  They do not do enough to keep me informed on my correct thinking and vision: Wisconsin.  A serial killer over many decades.  Perhaps had been many years ago.  He looked similar to Robin Williams in One Hour Photo.  Able to hold an hourly job, yet off enough to keep people wary.  Been off the grid before if not numerous times.  Worked at a retail store.  Skinned, flayed, and dissected his victims.  Making things from his victims.  Blood and tree sap into objects.  Intestines dried and strewn throughout woods and tree tops for wildlife to finish where there would be no evidence.  The blood.  How he loved the blood.  The warmth, the tactile of the blood.  He has a tendency to panic.  Become panicky.  Jerky.  Nervous.  Trying to escape.  It is his tell.  I told them a few weeks ago, if you find him, approach him, question him, and he becomes panicky trying to make excuses to leave, look further because it could be him.

Or, Cherith is crazy.  One or the other.

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