Hardwired

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.

Cocoon Of Comfort

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!

What Were You Thinking?

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.

Single Serving Sally

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.

Friend

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.

Love, Come On?!

Here are some of the things I know about love – or even like for that matter.  If a man loves a woman, he does so in person.  He does not call it in, he does not use a proxy, he does not allow another man to use or touch her.

If a man believes he has found the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, he does not wait.  He would not want to spend a single minute apart from her.  He would not want to spend years of his life away from her.  He would not lie to her, and string her along for the sake of an audience.

I cannot live in the past any longer as if it was the best part of me.  As if the best years of my life have been lived already with nothing left.

There are some hurts, some pains, and some deceptions that I am unable to pretend did not exist.  It changes your perception of a person.  It alters – everything.

When a person no longer smiles, or laughs, or takes care of themselves the way they used to it is a tell, a sign.  And, it is not a good one.

Anymore, every day I would rather flay the very skin off my face and body than be alive.

But, guess what.  No one cares about my feelings, wants, or needs.

Fucking Suicidal

I wanted to write about how terrible my life is.  I wanted to write and to document the abuse, the manipulation, the unspoken pressure, the torture I am living in, but what is the point when nothing I write here actually changes anything.

I change my driving route, the gas station, the soap, the I walk into work, but nothing changes anything.  Everything stays exactly the same.

I should be able to tell a man no.  I should be able to say I don’t want to be a part of your family.  I should be able to get another job that I can actually live off of.  I should be able to keep a man out of my life that I dumped years ago.  I should be able to say I never want to see, or talk to you ever again David Wolfe.  I should be able to say I never want to know Edison outside of his disguise which is why I pretended I didn’t see you or David when I was at Home Depot.  I should be able to say I never want to see, talk, or know James Franco ever again.

I should be able to have some say in my life, who is allowed to see me, and who I want to spend time with and what man I want to spend my life with…but, I don’t.

I would rather die than continue living like this.

No one cares.  Everyone at my job is there to laugh at me and make fun of me including every celebrity and famous person I have ever seen or talked to.

I have no means to get control over my life again or anymore, so I would rather die.

It’s not like anyone reads this anyway.

My life has been nothing but a lie and a deception since 2012.

The last thing I need is someone else’s deadline, goal, or timetable I have to meet instead of being able to make decisions myself.

Someone stuck a receiver in my head or stomach so they can hear my thoughts, or I am a crazy person either way I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.  I don’t see a point living like this.

The world is better off without me.  Adios.