Category: Uncategorized

This is a true story.

When I was just a teen-ager, or perhaps not quite a teen-ager, I was plagued by a reoccurring nightmare: I am woken up by a noise in the middle of the night.  I wander out of my room to witness a strange and terrible man murder each one of my family members with a knife.  One by one.  From room to room.  Killing each family member until I am the last one alive.  Retreating to my room, he breaks through my door.  I run and hid in my bathroom.  He breaks through the door.  He is bigger, taller, stronger, cleverer than me, and set on his course.  He is going to kill me.

Every time I have this dream I try to out maneuver, or find a new escape plan, yet every night he kills me, or I wake up in a panic, sit straight- up in my bed awake.  Sweating.  Panicked.  Terrorized.

Until I discovered the word, No.

I am not making this up.  It is unbelievable.  It is the truth.

I stopped my bad dreams and nightmares, by purposefully telling the killer, No.

No, you have no power over me.

No, you will diminish from me.

No, you are not real.

No, you will not hurt me.

No.

No, I can tell you, No.

No, I have the ability – even in dream – to tell you, no.

No, I have the ability to control my own dreams, or nightmares.

No.

Loud, or soft.  It is still the same.  No.

I stopped having this nightmare.

I have never had it since.

A short while after this I told my mother of the nightmare.  Shock took hold of her face that she tried to hide when she discovered when, the nights I was having these dreams.  She told me she had discovered the front door of our home had been left unlocked.  Something that never happened.  Something that she believed my father had done.  Purposeful or not.  It was discovered.

Now, several years later we moved from that home in Oregon to Florida.  I was with my mother at some doctor’s appointment.  I was waiting for her in doctor’s reception area.  I do not recall what kind of doctor it was, it could have been an acupuncturist, or a chiropractor, or something along those lines.  I am not sure it was a general doctor or family practitioner.  When, I overhear a conversation between the two-other people in the waiting room.  This is a detail I would most honestly not have noted in my brain before if it had not been for all these police years.  They were both African-American women.

One woman was explaining her bad dream to the other woman.  I believe she said something about stones.  Stones being placed.

I had to interrupt her.  I had to say something.

You don’t have to dream that dream, I said.

You can fight back in your own dream.  You can take the rocks and throw them away, or stop it, or say no.  It is possible.  I’ve done it.

She didn’t believe me.

I didn’t stop though.

I must have looked ridiculous, I was still a teen-ager.  I was telling an adult what to do.

It bothered me so much, this woman was worried, sick and troubled, yet there is power within ourselves.

It bothered me that I don’t think she took or heeded my advice in fighting back within her own mind.

Who says you have to live through a bad dream?

Irony.

The Matrix.

I cannot possibly be the only person to have discovered the power within ourselves.

Walking off the floor of the WORSHIP television studio, I am told they need to speak to me.  I am neither worried nor concerned.  A few of the leaders and close personnel are waiting for me in the hallway.

Your brother has been in a car accident.  They helicoptered him to the Trauma Unit at Tampa General Hospital.

Less than a blink.

Ok.

You should go to the hospital now, they tell me.

Ok.

I see them each look at each other as if I am not comprehending the information.  They start to talk about joining me at the hospital.  I see them suspiciously eyeing me.

But, they do not understand.

This very delicate line that exists.

Moments of grace.  Moments of peace that passes all understanding.  Moments where God lets me know – he is going to be ok.  My brother is going to be ok.

Less than a moment of worry or doubt.  Not even a breath of anxiety entered my body as the news of my brother’s accident was spoken.  I was not in shock.  I was not detached.  I was not emotionally unavailable.  I was there present in the moment, yet I knew beyond any rational thinking, evidence, or understanding that my brother was going to be ok.

God gave me a gift that day.

They all went with me to the hospital.  Perhaps because they knew my brother too.  Perhaps they were worried I couldn’t deal with the information.  One of the men asked to ride with me to the hospital.  I rolled my eyes a little at this.  I remember him looking at me while I was driving as if he was trying to figure out if I was truly ok, or un-feeling, he couldn’t seem to guess the truth.

My brother was in surgery when we arrived at the hospital.  A head wound from the car accident.

Head wounds bleed a lot.

We waited and prayed together for several hours before the surgeon told us the news of the surgery.  My brother was going to be ok.  They had to stitch the fine skin of his forehead back together, still he was going to be ok.

Relief did not wash over me with the news.  For I already knew.  In less than a moment, in less than a blink.

My brother’s Geo was totaled.  The photos from the accident were horrifying.  The police report of the accident was frightening.

It is a strange sensation, almost of existing in more than one place at the same time.  For I understood the information, I understood the photographs, yet God – for some reason I don’t understand – did not want or allow me a moment of despair.

I knew my brother was going to be ok.

What God did not prepare me for, what God did not give me grace, peace, or understanding for was the demon of a drug, Dilantin.

That is the only way I can explain or describe that drug, a demon.

Looking at my brother’s eyes after his accident, I saw the depth and light extinguished, and this drug take up residence.  It was unbearable to watch.

That demon drug, I could not be in the same room with.

It was a most difficult time for my brother.  He spent a lot of time alone.  He was grieving.  He was angry.  And, then he had to deal with the demon, Dilantin.

It was reported that he had a seizure at the accident which is why he was on Dilantin.  He had never had seizures before or after.

It was several months after that demon drug before my brother started to return.

Everything in his life changed, the direction he was going, and the work he had been doing.  He went back to school.  He completed his Masters, then his PhD.

My brother has always been book-smarter than me.

I knew he was going through a great deal.  I did not quite know how to contribute to his everyday life.  What I did do for him as often I as could without him asking in advance, I offered him small things like food or drink.  A glass of something to drink.  Coffee or tea.  A plate of food while he was working on his computer, grading or working on his dissertation.  Paying for a movie here or there.  Sometimes taking him to dinner.

It was the most I could do.  Something small.  A reminder that I saw him.  I saw him working.

This is the most difficult thing to explain and express to people.  Moments of grace.  Moments of peace that passes all understanding.  It is not as if I could stop and explain to everyone, don’t worry, I just had a phone call from God and he’s told me its going to be ok.  It simply doesn’t work that way.

Less than a moment.  I knew he was going to be ok.

God let me know, he was going to be ok.

ENOUGH!

You have no idea what you have done.  You did not think it through.  By calling me at my places of employment, by posting storylines on Facebook, by posting YouTube videos, you have implicated every organization, company, place of employment, and personnel involved.

I had changed jobs from when we went to college together.  But, it was you, David Wolfe who called me repeatedly at least once a month for years while I worked at Disney.  For years.  Filling my head with memories of our conversations together that I only remembered years after the fact when I was in the process of moving on with my life.  Getting back to who I was before.  Going to a place I thought I should be which was no longer in the every day care of my mother.

Were you jealous of my mother?  Did you believe my mother kept us apart?  That if I was not caring for my mother we would be friends again?

Why did else did you call me, drive by my house for so many years?

You have haunted and taunted me for too long now.  I have had enough.  It is too late anymore.

I can only look at these last years and believe that instead of caring for me, or believing in me, understanding me, or simply wishing good things to happen to me, what you have truly wanted was my heart broken, to be publicly shamed, humiliated in front of the whole world, abused for profit, and treated as nothing more than a sex slave.

You left me no choice other than to publicly acknowledge the shame of ever having been an acquaintance, a class mate, or someone I once knew.  However, once again I was not able to publicly speak my peace at the movie theater, sending a man to stand behind me silently demanding me to stop speaking.

The mere idea of you used to send me to a place I’ve never known before.  The shame and disgust I feel for you now have long since replaced the brightness you once held in my heart.

I would have called you friend until my dying day wished for nothing but your great happiness, however the damage of these years has been done.  There is no band-aid for the sorrow, the lies, the years you have kept me imprisoned here, and the absolute resolution of my mind and heart toward you.

You have turned my life into nothing more than a game show.  A tallying of points, a check-list.

I realize the purpose of all those YouTube videos – for which I was the inspiration and intended audience – was to hurt me and seek revenge on a woman who once called you a friend.

You must admit I have been the inspiration for nearly every one of your ideas.

I am impressed that you choose Denzel Washington as your alter ego, however did that not also correspond with me as well?  I used to have several email addresses.  I kept business, personal, and ad-emails separate.  Back when I believed I was still going to pursue an acting career I had a Charli Grayson account at Hotmail.com.  I was going to legally change my name, yet it would have kept my initials the same, CG.  David Wolfe – DW, Denzel Washington.  I am sorry David involved you in this Denzel Washington.

I still remember talking to you at Disney about voting for President Obama.

However, the path that you have chosen – has altered everything, every detail, every feeling, every memory, every purposeful thought.

All you had to do was stop.  And, talk to me.

You choose otherwise.

Facebook:

I remember your Facebook profile picture of you dressed as a French fry.

I remember you dressing up as Gumby at The Container Store.

I remember you posting on the 4^th of July 2011 going to the X-games with your Facebook friend Chris.

I remember it was Chris – I believe that was his name – who was also in the Facebook picture in front of the mirror also.

I remember it was Alicia Johnson who fb’ed a question of interesting television shows to watch.  To which I replied Whisker Wars because I had never seen anything like it on television it was hard to believe it was real.  I never watched a whole episode because it was not that interesting.  I have no idea how a show like that got money to be produced.

I remember it was Alicia Johnson who fb’d about needing a good dentist.  To which I replied my dentist, Dr. Gordillo.

I remember you David Wolfe at The Container Store talking with a customer that looked like a Sims avatar.

I remember while on my headset at Disney – clocked in and working – I was still singing the song that had been playing on the radio in my car which was Katy Perry’s, I Just Kissed A Girl.  I could feel I was being listened to while not on a phone call.  I could feel and hear thinking on the other end, so I changed the lyrics because I may have been singing along, but I NEVER HAVE WANTED TO KISS A GIRL.

Was it Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy that helped me at Lowe’s?  I have been too far removed from the world for me to know with certainty.

I am at my end with you.

What do you expect to happen?  For all I see is that this can only end in my death.  For I will never have a positive response from any of this.  Do you actually expect this to go on indefinitely?!  Every year I hear the same thing – another year, one more year, another day, but there is never an end.

I will not live like this indefinitely.

I could sue you for false imprisonment.

I have reported.  I have written.  I have given my brother permission to sue.  For years I have reported and written I do not want this life that surrounds me, or for it to continue another day.

I am so ashamed and disgusted at ever having known you or your family.

How could I possibly feel otherwise?

Years of my life I could have been happy with a real man in my life you have taken and stolen from me.  For everyone involved since 2014 knew, I did not want this life to continue, that I was never going to date again after the Edison, that I never wanted that Edison person in my life again, knowing that everything was faked I was NEVER GOING TO ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN TO ME AGAIN!!!!!!!!

James Franco means nothing to me.  Another disgusting man using me for sex.

I am not a woman to be shared.

I am not a woman to be treated as a bit on the side.

I am a woman you make a home with.

I am NOT A WOMAN YOU LEAVE ALONE FOR YEARS!

I will never be able to fully describe my feelings of utmost disgust for you anymore.

Five years and seven months living in this prison of a house.  Four years of living this faked life where I am not allowed to live.  I have had enough.

There is nothing you could ever say to me again.

ENOUGH!

As I am about to go see Tomb Raider, I am going in part as a protest.

It is a movie I would have normally wanted to watch.  Normally before 2011-2012.  I enjoy action movies.  Before 2011-2012 I would never have given a second thought to a movie with a female lead.  Having said that, I am going in protest.  As I do not always get to have my say, I want to share as much as possible before I go.

Lavender eyes – No Means No.  No, you are not my friend, “Erin” as I am certain now that is not your name.

My protest is what the doctors and dentists failed to notify and inform their patient which was me, Cherith, of devices, surgery, and implants that were performed without my consent, permission, and was never made aware of.  Then, use such devices as a means of control of my human body and mind.

How does this get to happen to a person?  How does this get to happen where a citizen of the United States has their human rights taken away?

Would you want this to happen to another person?  Your mother, father, brother, sister, friend, neighbor, family member, or simply a stranger you didn’t know?  Would you want a person to have surgeries, implants placed upon them without their permission or consent?!

It is an outrage which should be stopped immediately, and steps taken to prevent such actions to EVER happen again!

These devices should be removed from me immediately!

It is a deception that created a permanent and lasting effect upon all persons, parties, and companies involved.

David Wolfe, you do not get off easy.

James Franco, you do not get off easy either.

The horrifying shame that I have to live with everyday is your burden as well.

I feel this great pressure to write at the moment.  There is a conflict. a barrier, a great big problem which is causing my writing to diminish with fewer and fewer posts being written.  It is more than one problem.

I am given time off to write which is great if it was set-up correctly.  One problem with this is who is going to pay for my refrigerator to be repaired?  Or my dryer to be repaired?  Or this noise in my garage?  What about all my jeans?  Who is going to pay to replace all my pants that have been destroyed?  Not to mention the lack of funds to buy something as simple as new underwear.  What about the basic necessities of soap, lotion, make-up, and so on?

There are too many directors.  This is a huge problem.  There is the driving director.  There is the walking path director.  There is the items placed on the line director.  There is the – well, I am tired of listing them all.  The point is there are too many directors, and none of them speak to one another, there is no coordination between any of them.

David Wolfe is a problem.  He has been allowed to become a problem.  This is not merely hurt.  It is a problem.  Enough.  The Not My Friend post was not about you or your alter ego just to make that understood.  I will explain more in another post.

There is also the problem of stimulating me to such an unhappy, angry upset that all I want to do is un-plug from it all.  It is far from being in a creative state of mind.  How can a person create or write when they are not physically allowed to be there true natural self?

Series is a problem.  So, I will be renaming or removing series from all posts from now on.

Time is a problem.  Time and funds are a problem.  I am lacking in both.

I do not feel well at the moment, so I will stop.

Why did they take my cats from me?

Why did they take my mother from me?

Why am I here when I want to live somewhere else?

Why can’t I get another job?

Who doesn’t wear green on St. Patrick’s Day?  Because of YOU I am no longer able to celebrate a holiday or participate in its traditions?  Because of YOU I get punished for ACTUALLY enjoying something that does not involve YOU?!

What chose do I have at the toilet?  If I choose a seat protector, I am punished with wall control.  If I choose the bearded comm, I am punished by the doctor.  If I choose Pacific blue, I am punished with padded bottom.  Do you honestly think you can force me to stand over a toilet and pee like a man everyday?!

You earn a prize for the worst leadership of all time, in all of history.  You should be punished and imprisoned for the rest of your life.

You should hear this in my own voice.  It should be heard in my own voice.  I do not mean the voice that was heard at my brother’s wedding, or on the radio, or headphones because you should know how they use tricks and manipulation to keep me sounding like some hick when the truth is – I am greater than my surroundings.

If you only knew.

Women of the world, hear me now, hear me once and for all.

I am not your enemy.

There has been an ongoing problem in the world that surrounds my life.  Listen, do you hear it?  It is the sounds of lies, of liars, of purposeful deception, of tricks being pulled, of false re-creations, of laws being broken, of good men being given lies and mistruths, of good women turned to slaves for amusement and entertainment, of this good and honest woman not being given a choice or heard.

Do you really want to believe the lies being told?

Do you really believe the deception with a blind eye?

Let me tell you of my sacrifice, of my powerful will, I have done not just for myself, not just for women around the world, but for all of mankind everywhere.

When I returned to this home after being run out to the other coast and back, I returned to the darkest place I have ever been in my life.  I stood on my stairwell videoing myself on my phone, begging, pleading, sobbing, for an end, for relief, for the truth to be told.  I wrote and wrote and wrote on my computers for help and to report abuse.

For it was never true, for it never has been true that I have ever been an enemy of men, of women, or of gays or straights.  For my whole voting life, I have made sure that I have voted for the equality of men and women, of gays and straights.

You will never know the amount of pressure they have used upon me to make me swear, to force me to fill the air with unkind words.  I hope and pray no one will ever have to endure the amount of mental, physical, and emotional pressure I’ve had to endure just to keep my story straight and true.

Have you endured starvation?

Have you endured isolation?

Have you endured being denied the right to use a toilet?

Have you been denied the right to enter a business?

Have you endured the loss of friendships?

Have you endured the loss of your family?

Have you endured the loss of your pets and animals?

Have you endured the loss of love?  Of physical sex?

I have endured this going on six years now.

I did not use the toilet this last week not because I was tired, or did not have to use the toilet, I did it to keep the peace.

The time of leashes is over.

The time of unwarranted searches are over.

The time of playing pretend is over.

The time of one-way vision is over.

For, I have a right to my own body.

I have a right to decisions made with my body.

I have a right to choose who I share my bed with.

I have a right to be upset and angry if I am deceived.

I have a right to say no.

I have a right to say I will never be with a woman.

I have a right to say I never want to be with a woman.

I have a right to say I am ending a relationship.

I have a right to say this world I am living in should never have existed, should not exist, should end, that measures and laws should be taken to ensure no person has their life taken from them as I have had my life taken from me.

I have a right to say enough.

I have a right to choose who I make friends with.

I have a right to decide I no longer choose to be friends with someone based on how they have hurt me.

A woman has a right to her own body.

A woman has a right to her own body to make decisions about her own body.

This woman has a right to her own body.

I have a right to say this is a cock-only zone.

I have a right to say it is nothing but the glorious penis to the end of my days.

I have a right to say it will never be anything but, dick, dick, dick, beautiful dick.

I have a right to my own mind.

I HAVE A RIGHT TO MY OWN MIND.

I have a right to say it is my mind first!

I have a right to say you do not belong here.

I have a right to say you are not permitted here.

I have a right to say you are not allowed admittance.

I have a right to close doors.

I have a right to lock a door.

I have a right to be the only keyholder.

As every woman has a right to her own body, to say her own anthem, to bar the door, to her own thinking, to her own mind.

I do not wear my No Ma’am t-shirt to disparage, hurt, or harm any woman.

I do it for myself first.

I do it for women everywhere.

So, that no man, no woman, no person could ever again force another person into any act against their will.

AGAINST THEIR WILL!

If I had found out that another man or woman had been forced into an act that they themselves did not agree to or want – I would have gone to the floor for them.  There is no way I would have done nothing – for someone else.  There is no way I would have done nothing for a stranger.

I wear my No Ma’am t-shirt for the ONLY reason – which has nothing to do with the hood – that I may not be the prettiest girl in the world, I may not be the smartest girl in the world, I may not be the greatest talent in the world, I may not be loved by any man again for the rest of my life, but I am here.  I am not dead, yet.

And, I am Cherith.

I am no one else.

I am Cherith.

Now, most people go on a cruise and gain weight.  I, however, did the opposite.

When I was caring for my mother, I reached a point when something had to happen, something had to change to bring about a difference in the life I had been living.

When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t know who the person was looking back at me.  It was no one I recognized.  It was not my true self.  I was always shocked and surprised.  Who is this fat person?  Either I was so extremely exhausted all I saw was how the work wore me down, or so grossly overweight I didn’t recognize myself.

Now, I am slow and careful when it comes to certain decisions.  Too rushed and too quick, and I will not reach the desired result.

I spent months and months getting prepared to lose weight.  Because I wanted to be able to look at myself in the mirror and not feel ashamed.  I wanted to look on the outside how I saw myself on the inside.

I worked internally.  Going through events in my life, analyzing myself, understanding how I had allowed myself to get to the point I was in my life.  It is not an easy thing to look at yourself, see your flaws, and fix it.

After my abusive boyfriend, I gained weight.  I remember thinking, good, now he will never want to touch me.  This is a big point.  It is misplaced direction, an incorrect measure or response to the problem which was abuse.

I went through previous attempts to lose weight, understanding what worked for me, and what did not work for me.

When losing weight if it took too long, I would get discouraged and give up.  For me, I discovered I was willing and able to cut back drastically, give up on certain foods to lose more weight quickly.  I needed to see it.  I needed to see the numbers on the scale going down.

I will not forget the first time I went to buy new pants, the helicopter and motorcycles that followed me, for I kept my old pants for a long time simply using a belt to keep them from falling off.  When I went to the store, taking different sizes into the dressing room, I was amazed that the smallest size was still too big.  I just stared at myself in the mirror.  I was so shocked and amazed, I couldn’t look away.  It was unbelievable to me that I was smaller.  The number was important.  The number was a powerful motivator in keeping me on my path and redirecting negative thoughts.

After my weight loss, I have been able to step back and see how I’d kept myself from losing weight.  For all kinds of reasons, good and bad, yet they are still reasons.  They are not the truth.

The Clean Plate Syndrome: I discovered that going on a cruise, I had lost weight.  I realized that since all the food was already paid for, I no longer felt the need to clean my plate.  I could eat a few bites.  I could leave food on the plate.

Have you ever been poor?

Have you ever struggled?

Have you ever had to live off of $5 for a week?

When you do not know when your next meal will be you eat everything on your plate.  Stock up, in case you won’t be able to eat for days.  This survival mode is incredibly destructive.  It is an emotional crusher.  Years after being destitute poor, you still feel the loss of being financially without.  It is a bad hold to break free from.

Breaking free from the syndrome of sending food to Africa was important to me and had to be done.  We have all heard it before, eat all your food on your plate, I could send that food to Africa where people are starving.  There is a great deal of guilt associated with this concept.  Guilt and shame.

I learned and taught myself to break free from the guilt and shame of food on my plate.

Whatever happened to smaller meals, eating more often during the day?  You go to a restaurant and you are given a platter of food – not a dish.  How did this get to be acceptable?

Eating in America is grossly disproportionate.  The poorer you are in America the worse the food available to buy and purchase is.  It is full of empty calories with very little nutrition.

One way I kept myself on my path – while I was dieting – was to bring my own snacks wherever I went.  If I went somewhere that had a snack bar I brought my own water, celery sticks, carrots sticks, nuts and raisins.  I brought my own snacks.  This is very important.  More people should bring their own snacks, so they no longer have to feel the financial pressure to purchase.

After, Edison I am no longer able to bring my lunch or snacks to work.  No one should have to live like this.  Starving on a shift to keep from having their food tricked, altered, and touched.  At The Container Store, I had to throw away every meal I brought – after Edison, so that I could be seen in front of my television at home eating out of proportion.

It is something I am unable to forgive both James Franco and David Wolfe for.  I saw David Wolfe’s face through Alfredo Cruz – I don’t wish to continue that thought.  It is extremely hurtful to me.  David Wolfe never saw me as a thin, slim, beautiful woman.  David Wolfe never saw me as beautiful.

So, to have lived all those hard years taking care of my mother, taking a turn to finally live a life as a healthy, attractive woman that men would find desirable enough to want to treat well, take care of, and date – and that is the last thing I am able to do?!

Immeasurable grief.

Now, for exercise I chose Tracy Anderson’s workout routine because it is customized for different trouble body parts using smaller muscle groups.  Which is how I wanted to look.  I did not want to look like I had been spending hours in a gym using machines – that is just not me.  I wanted to look lean, toned, and thin.  Not bulky.

I alternated between a cleanse and a diet.  A Two-week cleanse, then 40-day diet, and alternate, and it worked.  It worked well for me.  I took it one day at a time.  It’s only for two weeks.  It’s only for 40 days.  When I got too discouraged I would tell myself, well, let’s see after 40 days.  Then, reassess.

It worked.  It worked for me because I started in my head first, then my mouth, then my body.

Premature Ejaculation.

I accuse you David Kahit Wolfe, of imprisoning me without cause, evidence, right, or permission.

I warned you.

I gave you time to think about your course of action.

You have given me no choice any longer.

I would have protected you until my grave.

I would have never spoken of your family until my life was extinguished.

But, my heart has been broken.  The light it seems is forever to be vanquished from my heart and mind.  You are no longer the same man to me.

What I saw in you when we went to college, I am no longer able to see in you.

It is a gift I have, to be able to see in others what they themselves are not able to see.

I saw such things in you.

I loved you once, a long time ago.

Did you really think you could get me drunk, lose my inhibitions, so that I would fool around with you?  You would have dumped me like every girl you’ve ever known, then blamed me for coming on to you while intoxicated.

Was it such a surprise how well I can handle myself while drinking?  For I am never out of control.  I’ve had to be drugged to become black-out drunk.

Did you play a part in any of those times I was drugged?

You’ve seen me naked David Wolfe.

You paid another man to “date” me, pretend to have sex with me – for how can it truly count if it was not his real skin – while you watched.

Did your wife or girlfriend know you watched me have sex?

You watched me have sex, David.

You watched me have sex?

You watched me have sex, David!

You watched me in my own home – naked!

You watched me on the other side my mirror!

You will never again be able to be the same man to me.  It is a crime you do not get to get away from unpunished.

I believe you broke up with all your girlfriends in college because I loved you.

My love for you David, changed you.

You could have gotten up off your chair at the coffee shop and approached me after I walked away from you.

I will not back down from being a woman who wants a man to ask her out, to open the door for her, to order for her after she’s told him what she wants, to call her up, and to court her.  You have never been any of these things to me.

You have never even been a friend to me.

Did you look from outside my windows, or did you have someone come into my home to view my pictures and paintings?

Did I retaliate against you when your girlfriend called me up at my employment to threaten me?  No.  I reported it to my supervisor to protect myself, but I did not take it out on you.  All I did was block her on Facebook, so she could not have access to me.  So, that she would know I did not want her to have access to me.

She was in my front yard, David.  Her and her friends rushing to see me walk with my mother to my car.  Pointing and laughing at me.  IN MY FRONT YARD!!!!!!!

I could not put my mother in danger like that again which is why I unfriended you and blocked you on Facebook.

IN MY FRONT YARD!

All of a sudden, my whole neighborhood turned against me because of David and his girlfriend.  I thought and believed moving here would change that.  It hasn’t.  It is exactly the same.  It feels as if the entire neighborhood is against me because of you, David.

No one protects me in all of this.

How dare you treat me like I am less!

I saw great things in you, David.  But, you never saw the same in me.  You still don’t, or you wouldn’t play these food games.

You want me to write about how I saw you on your motorcycle on my drive to see The Hunger Games.  You looked behind and to your left, to the unmarked car who was riding with you.  I wore my purple hoodie that day which was already many sizes too big with my grey Bermuda shorts.

All these years I could have been loved by a real man who would have loved me in return.

You’ve taken years of my life, David.

Did you actually think I would be so upset seeing you make-out with your wife on the beach that I would try to start dating again?  To get back at you?  How could I when I knew this whole house and system has been set up against me?

I was and AM NEVER GOING TO ALLOW ANOTHER EDISON to happen again.

Did you actually believe I was gay because I loved you?

You fail to understand I know that was you as Alfredo Cruz when Cleveland suddenly became a woman talking about being from Alabama when you said one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard from your mouth.

You actually thought I was gay because I loved you?!

Did you think that if you deprived me of actual male flesh I would suddenly change teams?!

It is a trespass upon my heart, my flesh, and my mind.

You failed to believe in me, that I was capable of great things, that I had plans for my future.

What we could have accomplished if you had actually allowed me in on the process instead of making me DO this life.  We could have actually worked together.

How the day has changed from you.

I knew you when you wore khaki’s.  I loved you for more than your khaki’s.

Gerry who lived in Fishhawk Ranch whom I dated.  Who was from Oakland, Ca, who said his baby nephew was cropped out of his profile photo, who said he read my blog, whom I wondered if he stuffed his underpants because of the size of his package, who worked for a trucking company, who never once tried to kiss me, who took me to Taco Bus one night.  And, Edison who had a picture in his eHarmony profile holding a baby –  which looked playful to me – under a sheet just like the Angel Soft photo, I believe you played a part in David.

So, when those women walked into The Container Store with a baby, I believe you used as a psychological test, upon viewing a baby.  Proving I am not a sexual deviant.  Which is the reason for your big smile on your face when you walked out of the stock room.

How would I ever be able to feel the same way for you again?!

What kind of man does that to a woman?

What kind of man does that to a woman who loved him?

Go back to your wife and leave me alone.  For good.

How many men I could have sex with by now if it wasn’t for you.