Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Blind as BatBoy
I hate that I have to say your name a little more........ Farmer Man. I'm sorry I don't know your real name. Am I really your mail-order bride? In one route I could see myself a little in Fergie's "Clumsy," song. but.......... I'm on my guard. If you did want to get even closer and release the tensions of you possibly being a predator wolf to embarrass me on purpose, I'd play along and let myself go a little for you.
"El Dorado," It really could be intended for either of us. You might have a revenge for the time I was with both you farmer men and I had a thing for Jon at the time..... You didn't seem interested. You didn't seem interested at a second later time I saw you at the bar. I was the one who was being the fool then anyway. Why couldn't you just count that as your revenge? I think it is boyish to want revenge and humiliate me. You also looked like you had a thing for Brittany at the casino; and you're probably mad at what I said to you and the arbitrage for your stares and desperate judgment. I think that is why, nevermind........No matter what you think; I know I'll always be straight. Maybe you really are very possessive and jealous and took whatever conversations they were too far.....
Maybe you punkish farmer boy, really does have a thing for my "hobo" crafter. Maybe you think I'm your sexy type and maybe I could be. You know what else? I got more of that farmer fresh juice at the market because it is one of the best I have found yet. (V8 nothing personal, your juice isn't 100%) Farmer man, you can or can't take it to your head, but I'm getting that juice no matter what you think.
I'm putting my party dress on this weekend. If you did want to go out and bar hop and party this weekend I would be open to having fun with you too. If you are out to embarrass me, don't think I'll go home and put on the other "party dress." Don't you think you can make a limp woman out of me. Don't think you'll make a gutter woman out of me either.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
God Bless Me
Where do I begin?
It looks like there are more walls and darkness now. I have some trust for Joel, but I'm not completely on his side. God bless me regardless of what Joel thinks God should do.
I know Tom is leaving me guessing. Hmmmmmm. For today and however long,... it looks like me in a burka with a tapping stick blind people use. I believe he wants to kill me although he leaves me guessing as to whether he is out to be a white knight or wants my blood. I wonder what is really up with Vampires. I'm not intentionally being cute, but it is like there is something people should believe when there are connections made with vampires. How the fiction is somehow real. He seems more in Samuri mode than Vampire mode to me. Maybe I am getting what I am asking for: If I am always expected to be subjected or enslaved and I'd rather be dead, maybe Tom wants to put me out of my misery. He has a few conflicting signs right now. I believe he is against me more than for me. I know the truth I've already proved when he or someone else tests me with subjectivity. If people have won with damning my life that much and I will most likely be trusted as a serious enemy because I will not bow, the long popular vote of Gadaffi's win overall will put me to death because of the power in numbers. Well, I can only wait from here.
If I do die, I wish for the best for Mitzi. I do not want my parents or my sister and David to take care of her. I do not want any of my extended family to take care of her. I'd want Joel to be the one to find a loving adoptive family for her.
I never asked to be tested the way I was to begin with. This is the consequences of testing me constantly in the several violent ways I have been tested.
All of my decisions with some men will not be decided for now. Too many walls. Too dark to see. There are several signs I will not look at for the sake I will not be tested and I STILL KNOW WHAT MY TRUTH IS.
I do not know which psycho out there is being the most dominate psycho now, but that is what they are to me: A P-S-Y-C-H-O
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