Monday, September 27, 2010

waking up

7:48 AM 9/27/10

They woke me up thinking of Curtis. There are a few things they were saying. 1. Josiah. 2. the puppet words. I forget what other things. I'm not awake yet. 3. how many people have I actually had sex with.

About Josiah: he was one of the people who I never, ever, ever touched. It was unthinkable to touch him, unthinkable to give him my phone number or try to start up a relationship of any kind except as co-workers. I loved him from afar.

Puppet words: You've never read my writing when I was free. I am a puppet. The murderers put words in my mouth, they tell lies, they say things that are intended to hurt people and cause terrible damage with very little effort. I am constantly, 24 hours a day, being forced and controlled, and every word that I say or write is controlled by them. If any of my words have ever hurt you, it was probably because of the murderers. You have never known the real me, and you never will, until the day that I am protected by some kind of shield. Then, and only then, can anybody know the real me.

Sex: I've had sex with Eric and Peter. The end. When I was a teenager, I tried having sex with my boyfriend Terry a couple of times, but we didn't really know how to do it, and it was uncomfortable and we had to stop. I didn't know about things like 'lubrication' back then. That information would have helped a lot. That was when I was a virgin and we would have had to practice for a while until it wasn't painful, and we didn't have a safe place to be together since we both still lived with our families. So I didn't *really* have sex with Terry. We sort of tried, and we quit.

I have been an antisocial hermit who has loved people from afar and never told them, for years and years and years. That is why it is always unusual when the voices force me to actually *try* to develop a real-world relationship with someone I love. I always love them and I know that it is impossible and they will never return my love or have any kind of relationship with me at all.

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To survive, I am going to have to shut down my facebook account. I didn't really want to use facebook anyway in the first place. Back when I got on facebook, it was because I wanted to see Martin's facebook page. Martin was the first young guy that the murderers forced me to try to have a relationship with. Curtis was the second. Both were obviously a disaster: nothing but pain and suffering and hundreds of emails being ignored. (The real-world workplace relationship with Curtis was wonderful. But it is impossible to have anything beyond a co-worker relationship. Now we are ex-co-workers.)

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Imagine people who aren't puppets. These people have real dignity and self-respect. They tell the truth. When they speak, they say things in a simple, direct way that is easy to understand, because their speech isn't full of garbage interfering with the truth.
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So as I said I will probably shut down facebook as a way to protect myself against reacting to everything going on in his life. When I look at him with Carrie, with his friends, I am sure that I'm not wanted at all. I don't exist. I will never be part of his life *at all*. But I will get upset every time they have a fight, every time Curtis talks about death, every time he loses a job, every time he runs out of money, every time he signs up for the army, every time he and Carrie break up and get back together. The murderers will always keep trying to make me believe that he has *any* use for me at all. I am nothing to him.

They're refusing to block me and refusing to make their pages private. There is only one way to make it impossible for me to see a facebook page, and that is, for me to *not have* a facebook account. And since I am not a hacker myself, I won't be able to break into people's computers and see everything on them. So if I can't see facebook, I can't see anything at all.

What did he say to me in email: Very little. But he did actually answer, a little bit. He said three things: 1. he only wants to be friends, 2. he doesn't want to hang out with me 'outside work,' and that was a confusing way to say it, because we're not working together anymore, but back when we were working together I was asking him to see me 'away from work', in other words, out in the world, or at home, or meet him somewhere, and 3. he doesn't need any help with money. But he insisted that he *wanted* to be my friend. That is meaningless to me: wanting to be a facebook friend is nothing at all. If someone is a friend, but they never speak to each other, and they don't do anything together, then they're not friends. They're online friends maybe, but that's not the kind of friend I want.

When I kept insisting that he must block me from being able to see his facebook page, he told me that I was nuts. When he said that, I felt this rush of feeling - I would have said "I love you too." But I didn't say that. I said, yes, you're right, I'm nuts, I've been trying to tell you that.

(Right now the murderers started playing Lady Gaga singing "I don't wanna be friends.... I don't wanna be friends" from Bad Romance. They often compare me to Lady Gaga. She is very short, and I think they said 5'2" is her real height without those shoes she wears - that's the same as my height. She's similar to me in some ways: short, small, has a nice body with an ugly face. I always describe myself that way when I am meeting guys online or in chatrooms, I say 'nice body, ugly face.' I have a crooked eye, and a big, long face, which is one of the reasons why I love the Weston Price book and how he studied what causes facial deformities. It's like the solution to ugliness. We can prevent ugliness from happening if we follow these rules. Anyway people always think Lady Gaga is a man dressed in drag, because of the horrible makeup and the horrible wigs she wears. The murderers, the voices, are always telling me that people think I'm a man because I let my whiskers grow. That angers me - their ignorance - that millions of men don't know that female mustaches even exist. I hate, *hate* this culture we live in.)

(That wasn't the song they were playing when they woke me up. They woke me up with 'hope it gives you hell.' At least I like that song. Sometimes they play songs I hate and they won't stop playing them. I consider myself lucky if they wake me up by playing a song that I like. There is no such thing as a song getting stuck in your head. If a song is *ever* playing in your head, it is an electronic attack.)

I am going to try to go back to sleep.

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