Incase you run out of abusers to defend for popularity, this is hilarious to me – it’s a concluding statement in an email I sent to the guy I had to call ‘dad’ in exchange for cash.
If that was the trip in which I visited Dubai with the girl I was told to call my “sister”, she slept in a double bed. It’s so weird, she once told me a story – my “sister” that is: about the “princess and the pea”. She said that the “princess” was ‘tested’ for being a “princess” – if there was even the tiniest speck of dirt in her bed she wouldn’t sleep in it. Apparently someone hid a pea amongst a pile of mattresses and the “princess” could “tell” it was there or something. Iunno. It is a terrible story.
Iunno, Conchita (Our Granma that absolutely hates my “sibling”, actually) would’ve said that ‘a princess’ isn’t too good for anything. I mean – I can sleep on a train. I can sleep on a bench etc.
Most military strategists – like Sun Tzu – would say that you are only as good as your weakest link.
Please don’t EVER defend me, or get involved. You cannot do a better job, unless I ASK you to. If I want to be defended, or if I am lost for what to do, I am really particular about who I will run to. Don’t bully them unless they’ve bullied you first, don’t make it about me.
They were people that just wanted to be loved but didn’t ever accept that I am the most loving person you’re probably ever going to have the chance to meet. I would say I’m more loving than Lady Diana – I mean give me an ounce of weed and I will laugh off a life of abuse for a couple of weeks.
You don’t have to, but the real reason you won’t is because – again – you envy that I’ve found some happiness. She’s happy, without FRIENDS? Without.. FACEBOOK FRIENDS? Without LIKES? Without VALIDATION???
THAT IS SO RUDE. WHAT A BITCH.
YES. IM OKAY. I LOVE MY PLANTS. I LOVE MY STUFF. I LOVE MY HAIR. I LOVE MY SHOES. AND WHEN I HAVE NONE OF THE ABOVE – I LOVE THAT MY TASTE IN STUFF IS THAT MUCH BETTER THAN YOURS. THAT YOU CAN HAVE ALL OF THAT CASH AND YOU REALLY DON’T KNOW HOW TO SPEND IT.
I don’t NEED the weed to feel happy. I am in all sorts of agony all the time. But I choose weed, lets be honest, over your inability and incapacity to love.
Look: start trying to learn how to be funny by poking fun at yourself. If you have friends that poke fun at you but don’t poke fun at themselves, don’t bother with them. As in ditch them.
Look at all my old ugly friends that got hot. Some, I can’t fix – because they don’t listen to me when I give them good advice. Don’t value sincerity etc. Some people are stupid.
Like if you design a hoody, this is important, and I suggest “do this to it, and I’ll buy it because I will genuinely LOVE it” or if I say “send me a sample, I’ll make it good” or if I say “you should buy this” – I am trying to level you up. It is not some kind of sex game, or some kind of BDSM thing. It is literally, my lifes work, to make things not shitty. I’m not negging you.
Get boots. Get hair straighteners. Stop telling lies compulsively. Stop defending blondes, they might deserve the chance to defend themselves – because they keep being defended – and they don’t know how to defend themselves. Some of them are abusive, and someone has to fix the mess their parents made.
NOT ME. I STEP OUT.
Imagine Biggie realising you released this song for the money
Or Lady Diana realising through my facebook messages that Harry was ‘investigating’ because he didn’t get his ‘will money’ (“there really wasn’t much. and it was no one’s business. and he was conceived after a rape.) and listening in to stuff about ‘karma’ to justify stealing from me, because he decided I was Lady Diana’s ‘future life’
haha, i typed that and felt to vomit
One time a guy called Will Pitt told me that his mother had depression. He told me his brother was tantrumming because he was excluded from her will (how the hell did he know that??)
I passed on two messages:
pick your mother
I said she should eat saffron – and I had some myself – apparently it has the same affects on the human brain as MDMA. Which means it makes you happy and it makes you fall in love. (Someone, thought at me “I actually did”)
and at the time, I was eating saffron too – and I flavoured steak with it. Lots of steak. I had serious anorexia at the time. I was a size zero – and my phone had been hacked to make me look much bigger than I was at the time. Everyone I knew was abusing me – to defend a girl that had done nothing but abuse me. I invited her to my hometown because she rang me up crying because she hated her life in Northern Ireland and then she came over, lied to everyone about me, had sex with my boyfriend who would creep out of my bed while I was asleep and sneak up the stairs. They heard they’d be popular for it. And believed it. Well, you guys must’ve felt popular thinking of me when you went out and had fun while I was at home having memories of being abused in my childhood home that I’d dreamt of escaping. I had “friends” that knew I was being abused but they told me I was attention seeking whenever I cried for help, so I learned to put on a brave face – and that brave face REALLY PISSED PEOPLE OFF. Anyway:
and FYI, I actually think I looked good when I was near death with anorexia – but I didn’t enjoy it because no one really cared to tell me I was hot. But thanks, now I can do-hot without the compliments.
My then-boyfriend Luke, at the time, bought me size fourteen jeans. It might’ve been the first thing he bought me. Size fourteen jeans when I was a size zero.
A psychic called Jim told me that anorexia and rape are less a means of expressing sexual attraction and more a means of ‘controlling’ people. I mean that was a pretty horrible thing for anyone with self esteem issues to hear – and I don’t think it was intended
I think he’d heard “if you defend a blonde you’ll be really popular” too.
From a woman whose name is EXACTLY the same as my “sibling’s”
Lisa – the woman who taught people to buy food from the ‘bargain’ section, Lisa, the woman whose privacy my fellow students and teachers and whoever invaded, the woman who taught me (my big mouth, huh – I told ONE girl at my uni and she told fucking EVERYONE, and pretended that it came from her) to learn how to cook and to tidy, because that was the only reason I didnt have a boyfriend. I dont want a boyfriend that expects me to do those things in exchange for his affections.
I got kicked out of my ‘mother’s’ house for being a good cook. Whenever I felt to tidy, and whenever I started to, I became exhausted.
Every woman that I treat as a mother – literally every single one – thinks they could’ve done a better job raising me, but ends up ditching me for a really stupid reason.
BERNIE kicked me out because she thought I’d set fire to her house? I’ll explain – I was taking a big shit (there was a huge drop of blood on the floor, from my asshole) and I was about to faint, so I ran downstairs and put sausages in the oven. I used baking paper, that belonged to Bernie. It burned and set the alarm off. I did not get to the oven in time because I had to take another big shit.
I almost actually fainted, and that was her timing.
The REAL reason that she kicked me out was that she
(waddling around like fat-Charlotte, the one that had never owned pets beside occasionally feeding Tintin pizza when my back was turned, after I’d asked her not to and a black cat that she got, and had only had for about.. three years before deciding she was ready to be a ‘vet nurse’)
took a BIG dog that I was helping one of her psychotic friends to look after OUT OF MY ROOM and put it in her gypsy office and it created all hell, because the dog ran loose – then Bernie started SCREAMING (you do not – do not start screaming – when animals start creating havoc with one another because then they have NO ONE to rely on to sort it out, and they are sensitive to energy, which means they will COPY your SCREAMING.)
and I HAD TO SORT IT OUT (Karina did, she is the only person stupid enough to break up fights with rabid animals. We’ve checked.) and I said to Bernie “I’m quite good with animals Bernie.”
I am not the kind of person to look at how you treat your animals and judge you. Unless I really, really feel to. It is a disgusting thing to do, actually. Unless you know that animals can use you to communicate. And they can use me to communicate, just like people can use me to communicate.
I have seen animals living on the streets with open, festering wounds. I have seen beloved dogs with hoards of fat, swollen ticks coming out of their bodies (which I’ve touched, with my bare hands, and felt only for the dog.)
We were living with many FERAL cats – and what most people don’t know is that cats are MUCH more dangerous than dogs are. MUCH MORE. Even your scary rottweiler is no match for a cat that wants to defend itself.
This dog is playing with the kitten, but it knows the kitten only has to scratch it’s eyes. They are that clever.
Another thing: it’s energetic. The dog doesn’t mean it, the kitten means it. The dog is playing but knows the kitten is not playing. It really is a size thing. The chained up dog can use the free roaming cat to eat. The chained up dog can use the cat to go exploring because it’s owners have it as some kind of trophy animal. At some point I will have to teach people how to do ‘trophy’ animals properly. My little black dog is much scarier than most people’s big dogs.
Those people don’t know how to look after animals. Most people don’t.
Most people don’t know how to look after themselves.
Anyway: then I said “Bernie is this because of men?” and she sort of looked at her feet, ashamed of herself.
If you want to fix things – make sure that those three dogs are given to me. I choose dogs over men that NEEDED to date people like me, before they could date ‘people’ like you.