Author: Hcdgvbbcfhhg

Tired of weasels!

I am sick of people weasel-ing their way into my home and life!  Trying to make a reality that NEVER existed.  Trying to make themselves more important or special then they ever were.  No matter what route I take, or product, or anything I do to KEEP CERTAIN PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE FOR GOOD they are able to weasel their way into my job, house, and car which does nothing but take away my happiness.

How is it that everyone else’s happiness and storyline in more important THAN MY OWN!

Some stories no matter how many times you repeat them will never be true!

I want my house back!

Why is it that people constantly get to ruin and destroy my property and it NEVER is corrrected or fixed – EVER!

I used to spend my entire at work correcting problems and mistakes I saw in my path – NO LONGER.  It is not my job to replace barriers, rearrange tissue boxes, or any other such nonsense.

Because of these last few years David, how could I ever want or wish to see you again?  Leave me in peace.  I am happy for your success and happiness.  Why can you  not do the same for me?

Everything over these last few years has been nothing more than an unbearable combination of hurry up, and then hurry up some more!

Hurry up and wake up, hurry up and eat breakfast, hurry up and get some clothes on, hurry up and go to work, hurry up and work, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry some more, faster, faster, faster, you are not going fast enough at work – GO FASTER, hurry up and not eat lunch of food of any kind while at work, hurry up and drive home, hurry up and clean the cat litter, hurry up and feed my cats, hurry up and take out the trash, hurry up and finally eat – but, do it quickly and hurry, hurry up and go to sleep, hurry up while sleeping, hurry up and wake up, so you can do it all over again.

My mind is gone because of it.  Parts of my personality have completely vanished.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, this constant hurry, this constant demanding expectation is depressing and oppressive.

Hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!

Everything is too fast, it is too high, the numbers are too high, it is more than a person is able to function normally.

Hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!

Ugh!  Is it no wonder it is all I can do on my days off but lie in bed, and dream about a time when what I wanted actually was heard, and listened too, and mattered.

This life is not my dream, nor is it any semblance of what I want or wanted in life.

Yesterday, I ate canned cheese.  Canned cheese?!  Yuck!  It was so gross.  It was less than tasteless.  Stale, non-flavorful tortilla chips, microwaved canned cheese with jalapeno’s, cheap, fizzy wine, a handful of Hot Tamales, oatmeal and coffee for breakfast was all I ate yesterday.  So gross.  So yucky.  I have sunk so low.  I can’t afford to eat, and I certainly cannot afford to eat well.

I guarantee if you read the packaging it was less than a 1,000 calories for the day.  There should be no way any person even eating such crappy food should even gain 1 pound eating such in a day.  But, I am surrounded by liars, thieves, misogynist’s, vile-tempered child-men, and persons of no character.  And, I have no wish to write any further about persons who treat others and myself as people to be toyed and messed with instead of elevating and empowering them above and beyond their own ego.

How I wish to cook real food, to eat real food.  To be able to plan, purchase and buy, make and create a menu for myself, for my week and months, have left-overs that I could eat during the week, bake bread, make desserts, create desserts, and most importantly of all share with a man I love who loves me in return.

I no longer dream that day will ever come.

Things have needed to change for quite some time – for many years now.  I have seen no change.

Why someone did this to me I will never understand.  Why this continues, I do not understand.

I am hungrier than words.  My mind is hungrier than words.  There is a desperation due to deprivation.  My mind is unable to make up the difference due to the lack.

Do you ever get tired of repeating yourself?  I do.

I have written this it seems more than once, but since – how it feels anyway – that I have been handed from person to person, or sold from person to person, management changes beyond my control, or worse still sent and shipped to the highest (or lowest) bidder.

We are born from birth.  Yet, before we are ever born at the point of conception, we are hard-wired.  Are personalities, are sexuality, and others are hardwired and unchangeable.

There is change that is possible.  We can come to enlightenment.  We can discover better versions of ourselves.  We can figure out ways to learn, to learn better, to understand more.  We can empathize, discover persons and cultures.

But, there are some things that cannot change that will not change – not even if you try to force it.

It will never reveal as real.

Do you know what it takes for me to write?  A cocoon of comfort.  While I was taking care of my mother story ideas, writings, sentences would come to my mind, and I would scribble them down to capture the moment.  However, none of the writing was very good.  My head was a mess – overworked, tired, exhausted beyond words I could ever describe – so my writing was not coherent enough, nor was it an enjoyable read.

It wasn’t until I placed her in a nursing home, trying to get my life back to the focus of me first was I able to sit down and write at all.  Let alone, write anything good and worthwhile to read.

Worse still, I need a view.  It draws my mind to a place free of inhibition.  Having to block out every piece of glass, every window pane just to keep out the monotonous parade of vehicles and persons is more than a set back.

Writing consumes me in a way nothing else does.

I was getting good.  Back in 2012, 2013, 2014.  My writing was getting good.  I was beyond my job, my employment, the people I knew, everything around me.

I was real.  I was honest.  I was vulnerable in my writing.  My writings which I no longer have since everything around me is all out of my control.  I laid myself bare.  I flayed my very soul with no expectation for the mere purpose of revealing who I am.

It is more than a shame to have it taken from me.  It is a part of who I am.

A person cannot be changed from their true nature.

My writing was better than the people around me.  I believe it scared them.  Unable to grasp the importance of writing.  But, most importantly, they were unable to grasp the importance of me.

One reason writing is so  important not just for me, but for history and historians for years to come – it takes longer to write than it does to speak.  So, to take the time to write to put into words feelings, emotions, and events speaks volumes all on it own.

I am better than they have let me be.

Because I am better.

Oh yeah, and by the way…in case you were wondering…no, I never wanted a fantasy date, lover, boyfriend, husband, friend, partner, or anything else of the kind.  I have ALWAYS wanted nothing but a real date, a real boyfriend, and a real husband – from this you cannot change, nor will it ever change.

I am not actually pretending in a video game, at my job, or in my life.  I am actually trying to design a house(s) that I would want to live in myself.  One that has a functioning kitchen because the one I live in – the kitchen I currently have – is nothing more than a microwave kitchen stop.  Yuck!

Why place someone in front of me who doesn’t actually want to be there?

Why place someone in front of me only because you’ve paid them to be there?

Why place someone in front of me at all?

Here’s what you should have done and should do still.  You should have paid me more.  You should pay me more.  So, I could have and could write – not more, but at all.  So, I could watch and read more.

But, you have no idea how distressingly negative it is to be around people so much better off, happier, more fulfilled than I.  But, more importantly, who do not want nor wish to be there.

So tired.  So unhappy.  So depressed.  So starving hungry.  I am so sick and tired of single serving meals.  I call it single serving Sally only because it rhymes.  I want so much to be able to cook real food and eat real food.  I am fed-up with having to live off of $1 pizza and ramen noodles because it is the only thing I can afford.  I long for a real kitchen where I can put dishes, cook, bake bread, and dessert.

My whole body aches everyday.  It is debilitating.

Someone placed a hidden camera in the radio and das of my car.  I know it because I can see it.  I’ve covered it up because I am tired of being seen without my permission.  Also, I choose NOT to be looked at, or spied upon, or viewed, or any of it.

I could go on forever.  Too tired.

People have no idea the harm they do when they deliver news to me.  People do not and have not taken into account my mental health and happiness.

I am brain tired.  I am more tired than I can afford to recover from.  I am more tired than I am allowed to recover from.

Something seems off.  Maybe everything is right and ok, but I need to wait and make sure trouble, chaos, harm, and mischief do not find me.

Otherwise, I would make a purchase.  Otherwise, I would do…as a normal person would…as I used to do and be.

It is not a good sign when I am not able to open my blinds.  Nothing is all clear.