I am in love with Curtis Sliwa. I always loved him in my 20’s but he was so far away. Even joined the L.A. angels which failed in 78-79….. Now I found him again, on Facebook. Funny, he has actually liked some of my comments. I dream about him. Not sex! I’ve been celibate 18 years, by choice. Hugs are ok. Anyway both of us would have never even had a chance to meet if not for the internet. But I never get what I want. He’s got a sexy costar. Why would he want me. 😢 no, I have to try. 🤔😘 update: I tried to flirt with him and he un friended me. He hates me now. He is stuck up and has few followers but I was not worth his time. 😰 see I am worthless.
I hate it when I get blocked first. I’m smarter than that. I was actually talking to a woman on FB I knew she was evil but I kept talking. Should have blocked her! Now I can’t, bitch blocked me. Typical middle class (maybe) no nothing country Midwest fool! She got to me! I have the urge to kill. Admit it we all think I’ll kill you! But we never do. Now I wish I wasn’t so kind and could be like them and hate. One step further, if I had the ability to actually kill her and not get caught I would do it on general principal. But that’s not the civilised way. This woman has no idea what I feel. She was rude and bossy. She was the one who was”right”. As she said. Wish now I was Muslim. All I have to do is say loudly around a crowd of Muslim men, “she burned a Quran!!!!!” And then sit back and watch her die. Horribly. The ultimate revenge and it’s legal in Muslim countries!!! But I won’t trade my freedom to get back at someone I never met. It’s a waste of time. Forgive me Lord. By Jesus’ grace I’m forgiven. Not so wonderful if you are really Muslim. There is no forgive me. You will be killed. Period.
More than likely I’ll be cremated or (hopefully not but….) Donated to science. That means med students get to play with your body parts. Of course there’s always the possibility the government could use me in an illegal programme, God forbid I actually wake up with super strength and inability to die! !! In any case this is supposed to be about me. I was born a 10 month baby, the 6th of 5 previous miscarriages. I came into the world on September 16, 1958. Since I was a late baby my parents drilled into me, the song, “Born to Late”, by the Ponytails. A #1 hit, august 58′. It was my song they said. And I believed it, and played the 45 record thousands of times over my life through my 20’s.
- Back to the hospital, my mom had what is now post partum depression. She also bleed for 7-8 weeks. Supposedly I was born without Any labour pains.” You just came out”, was her favourite saying.I spent a month in an incubator before coming home, my mom was to sick/frightened to visit. The 5 baby losses. But Daddy visited every day after work!! And when I came home, it was my Daddy who fed me, changed me for a month at night, my aunt Pat in the day bathed me. My mum was repulsed by my wrinkled skin, but after a month I looked like a normal heathy baby. Then my mom learned to care for me. She did fine, I remember age 3 is my first memory, but it was me and Daddy hiking while camping in Sequalia. We saw a big bear. Next I remember my mom’s hands always smelled like smoke. It was comforting. But my favourite was going to my grandparents, although grandpa died of a cerebral hemmorrhage, when I was 8. But there was always Gramma! My heart. And I broke hers, God forgive me. More on that later. (Unfinished)