Streams Of Consciousness V 

I don’t know why I’m choosing Roman Numerals. I don’t know them enough to stay in sync nor do I have the passion to google them.  I’ll return to regular numbers soon. 

Ramblings. Rapid thoughts. Dealing with ignorance is like batting flies. Dumb bitch attempted to attack me with my own disorder she claimed not to know about then in the same paragraph states how close we were.  Don’t send me novela text messages full of lies and bullshit.   

Shut the fuck up.  No more niceties.  You’re full of shit, envy and I’ll respond here since you apparently haven’t been reading it for years.  Such a close friend. Yet never read a blog. Can’t recall disorders shared; the same ones you mimicked.  Fake sister. You’re pretend.  I’m intelligent. Never mistake nice for weak.  You’re right, child.  You really don’t know me.  But that was your choice.  To be self absorbed to the point you can’t recall shared moments… So vulnerable.

Shame on you. Shame on you. Shame on you. 

I keep dossiers of information. Recordings of files just in case memories need to be jarred.   Just in case truth must be revealed. Is that bothersome, email digger? Don’t attempt to hustle the hustler.  Voodoo dolls and dark behavior is comical.  Keep churning your karma and wonder of your misery.  But beware the battles you choose.  I can introduce you to the throngs who lose.  I am long trained in the art of dealing with behaviors spurned from self shame. 

Oh, has life taught me from encountering vermin. Warrior I stand regretting no love given; purely with no lashing, whining or betrayals. I stand proudly in my ethics, but if it’s battle you want, okay.  I have always enjoyed winning fights. 

I hold no secrets and no shame.  I am cunning and on my game.  I’ve trained long, well and if it’s hell the malevolence wants then hell it will be.  So come on. Attack me. I walk away laughing. 

There’s a love awaiting.  It takes a choice. Meantime. I use my voice and no weapon attempted has ever prospered because I have fostered the tool of ignoring the imploring of hopelessness. 

Heal. Heal. Heal.

We’ve all wept, fallen, scraped knees, broke down teeth, pain, disdain.  Choices.  Cycle the pain or rise.  You decide. 

But me? I leave drama behind. Goodbye. No time. Psychopaths lurk in corners and I hold secrets.  Because I keep my word and rats fear what they are the most. Rats. Brats.  Hypocrites. 

Meanwhile gifts are buried under tears and pain, choices that leave humans holding onto the only thing that makes them feel real.  Lashing out. Victim mode. Can’t fly with broken wings.  So we gotta heal some things. 

The cold bites me.  Life is changing.  Rapidly.  I have no choice but to shrug and float, hold onto hope because everyone’s got their journey. 

And mine is winding, invisibly ahead.  So I can only be led by instinct and feeling.  Welcome to me.  I don’t fear the unknown.  I’ve come home to the damage, the holes, the beauty that unfolds and I do so with acceptance. 

But don’t underestimate…. Me. 

You aren’t prepared for what you’ll see. 

So ends this round as I… Sleep soundlessly.  

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