Sorry, wrong number. Aim far.
Yes, you are give traditionals the iterative power to be referenced at every start, and your schedule ends with only your hands grabbing at your nether zone.
Or if I pass away from the game to all throw&dows and double-check MYSELF to rememberha🎉🎉t stop asking the nercgoat quesries. For example I don't need to know if you know what you need to get.
I know right now you need to have a travel shelter because do you need to have a shelter, yes. Do you need to travel? Arguably not.
And if you did you can teleport and maybe that would be nicer for you. No one used the sign. It's a sign. It's not a sin sign.
I remember what I felt when you did what's on your attention and I remember you were ashamed. I remember you wished that you could stop and you felt badly about being unable to stop yourself from feeling good. It wasn't. It was dood.
You seem to have the ability to stop yourself now. You don't stop others, you don't know what it is but you don't tell me in your mind that you feel exploited, because what's the point? You already know you are exploiting me.
Better dopamine hit for you if it seems I am clueless. It didn't look sophisticated to me when you told me you thought I was going to call the police for you.
? No promises, talk to anyone and I would be happiest if I don't swindle out a felony charge from you because I don't really have any reason to think you know what you are trying to accomplish.
Capt. Miller<, Capt™ Horse Ax Shun, Captain Glory, you didn't know how to do any of this at first and you still don't. Because you think I should be going out of my way for you, for decent regular interactions that I thought would be fine in the first place.
You were already given and seated and I didn't want to think about having no idea who gave you I didn't know what and you couldn't say Anything Helpful. You still haven't.
I wish l already knew what you are hiding because you already do; and I am obviously hiding something from you.
It's my spiritual disbelief. Literally do not think you even consider my likelihood to be convinced or persuaded or even present.
You think of me and set me impolitely on a road towards my doom and I assume that feels hotter than leaving me on the street reading symbols. I really don't know because you have never bothered to start with an A.
Or an apartment, alone. Or an explanation in spoken English. Or an acknowledgement that you are a lot more shy than other people that I have called 911 for.
I don't need 911 but you don't need me for much of anything. Money. You don't really need that either. I also find it easier to error withdrawal a toilet than a 🎉 sheaf of bills.
You also don't have any reason to tell me the truth about anything and you literally just asked for money and then disappeared for a week. Let me think this through for us.
Your brother, husband, and the boyfriend are all scum and you all enjoy abusing me while burning what remains of my mommy's cold hard cash on each other's enjoyment.
You're all covert narcissists and you literally had thirty years to value the time with me. It never came up in conversation even once until you had to find someone to setup for your oinkmaster handler jarhead turbo-pervo freak partner, who is almost assuredly reading this to you. Why would that not be happening?
“two hits of acid buy chance.” I literally never said we should do it again. We never did it at all. YOU DID. The next day I was abruptly labeled something criminal and at no time have you ever... mentioned basically anything ever again. (+1, Nostalgia.)
Except money and that you don't remember.
Is it more fun for you, is there a bigger hit of dopamine when the lies are incredibly obvious and I appear to believe anything? I don't have the ability to remember believing anything since the first minute, “i like your name where did you come up with it,”
“it's on the side of a building," of course it was. Two fives, that's my birthday, why did you... “a coincidence that doesn't mean anything.” You literally said this and still seem unaware of the chilling effect here.
Why you and Beau and Gabrielle and whatever her sibling is named and Andrïy and... i assume every person you've ever met, never speaks of you, you haven't ever explained anything to me besides to seek attention and sympathy, you make a false police call to say I pulled a knife, and I never did.
The knife was given to me as a selection of choices for me to pick one, did I need a knife? According to the father of the hood rat brawler who looks like his mother, braids his hair like her, looks exactly like Vince and nothing like me, and demands items and cash from me only slightly less insistently than you, he sent in G or K or maybe even you to steal from my pocket what he wanted and I said no to...
It is exactly impossible that you're unaware of how stupid all of this is when looked at together; that's why the dopamine hit for “fooling” me, since you were programmed to steal a baby on our first date and not to have a pleasant time together. At all.
In no way are we at all together. You let someone i had never met before (because why the fuck would any of you want me in the way of anything you get together, you're all trained in the art of commandeering all those resources I didn't even deserve to know about as far as any of your peer group knows) take whatever and anything wherever. Good girl. You get biscuits I am certain. (Anything can be a dildo if you're alone long enough.)
My mother has been dead for ten (10) years and at no time did I find myself looked at unless it was by your oinkyballer team as a location to case.
Literally. It is as though nothing means anything to you unless you get money to give your Lead Thumpy Badge and sex with someone who, obviously, gets high on whatever they decide, refrain from ever telling you what these chemicals actually do, and leaves you behind to gather dust while your higher KARMIC self, you possibly have seven of them, all deeper throats than the next, and all of this is simply never addressed.
I do not really understand how any of you missed the day of orientation where metadata and triangulating is explained but Anthony, Lisa, B. Radach and Michelle (nice opal, does it ever change appearance, oh that's a secret), NEARLY FIVE YEARS LATER I mention all this and none of you saw this far ahead, sure:
YES THAT IS WHAT SEX ADDICTION DOES TO A PERSON AND WHY AFTER FOUR TRIPS TO THE PSYCH WARD IT OCCURS TO NONE OF YOU THAT, NUMBER ONE: DUH; NUMBER TWO: OF COURSE THERE ARE RECORDS; AND NUMBER THREE: NONE OF YOU GIVE A FLYING FUCK AT A ROLLING DOUGHNUT ABOUT ANYTHING EXCEPT FUCKING WHAT REMAINS OF YOUR BRAINS OUT THE BARN DOOR.
“Move.” HA! People I never met before are suddenly telling me how much they love my house while barely concealing utter disgust, at what I have no idea, obviously my mother's sixth anniversary of her death was a great time for all of you especially when calling me to tell me to hurry up and to ask for “permission” to consume my alcohol.
As if this mattered to any of you. All of you see no difficulty with robbing me blind while abusing drugs and shrieking at me for being an addict. Chris Fox is here RIGHT NOW who’s your first memory before calling speed dial, and does he acknowledge this or mention that it's Tammy’s anus I am asked about at knifepoint on a major holiday? Fuck no.
Until now I am pretty sure he thought I was in fact the next rain man. They're sitting on what used to be my mother's couch, then was mine long enough to be my job to haul it down, and now it has become the property of whomevah. Since none of you bothered to figure out what happened, none of you think anyone made an error except for me.
Because those to pay there-is-no-child support should be seen any not heard. It's just easier, for all of you, to get along and move on to the next path to the next peak orgy bliss moment.
Your ridiculous brother “I'm not her brother” is now sending messages, just by chance, JUST BUY CHANCE, it is mesmerizing how asinine you all are for your dopamine rush, the Duper’s Delight is money in the bank, and for thirty years, for a good time to be paid for by the mother who fucked up your plans, somehow, and to abuse her 15 ½ year old son (who still to this day has no understanding of how short-sighted badge vadge and their TrimGard™ HAGZ can be, seriously you gave me a disease, TOGETHER, DELIBERATELY, it makes me resilient to infection, NONE OF YOU SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS, except to THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD, that you LIE TO and make it far worse, and it never drops into awareness: I did nothing wrong and if you wanted sex that bad it seemed unwise to burn the bridge. But you didn't want sex at all. You wanted stolen semen from an underage child, A CHILD, obtained freely without coercion from a sober virgin who should have already filed lawsuits, except why bother?
You're going to need what cash you have left in order to pay for their college education(s), maybe ITT Tech where one can learn to implant contact lenses to display augmented reality, or whatever cheap hack whack-job toy you use to gain an advantage over everyone else, since you are traveling back from the future in “the simulation,” except there is no Matrix. It is all one world. One timeline with one beginning, middle, and end.
You all have shitloads of money. So what if your assets are frozen, there's always another tree to steal. Though there is unlikely to be another person who enjoys this Company Policy and possesses even a shred of plausible deniability, “what? who is that? hurry up and put on this dicksock while I literally just lay there and seethe."
A paper airplane has more game in the sheets than you and I ever did as you're never going to be recreating interest that was never actually there. If you wanted excitement you had crystal methamphetamine AT SIXTEEN, TEETOTALISTIC SCUM and loyal Timecope partners, and there was no reason to overcomplicate the issue.
There is no mystery as to how this made sense to you. You've been programmed to fleece easy money and to have as little physical enjoyment as possible, because years of lying about your abuse of The Holy Shards has made you all into a gang of abusive, narcoholic thieves with zero shame about lying to me and swiping whatever you all could at any opportunity. Because obviously I ruined your lives by not being A COMPLETE IDIOT. I am sure this is still a neverending thrill for anyone with the self-entitlememt and the myopic vision to find open-faced lying and outright theft to be a fun way to earn a karmic debt load.
It is very difficult to find anything about your proposals, such as they ever have been, as anything but straight-up larceny. Like this is all doing me a favor by pretending to be stupid for so many years that it sinks in like method acting? I have an ambitious work ethic now? I can thrill to the waves of nostalgia as I watch this guy (he's overcompensating with random shouting as roams around the 4.1 acres that once were nice and would have stayed better if only your primary rapist thug hadn't changed things to more his liking and not at all anyone else with a dick? Makes sense because it's amazing what Algonquin power can do.
I don't suppose it has much in the way of going back about an hour when you somehow managed to believe I am this stupid, but look at the bright side: this will really help future historians and present day investigations determine the following:
You asked about your own anus while knowing that the answer was never;
You kept key details about events as they had actually transpired completely hidden from me, thus enhancing your position of entitlement over me;
The continuation of this laughable narrative that I am offering you money (for more desultory sex that we never had in the first place) in exchange for RapeTime™ with your clone vat avatar, of course the 1416 house is a stage, of course it is cluttered with unnecessary props, of course I am on my belly in the street at gunpoint (weapons are very impressive to drug addicts with years of resentment and envy over all the sex someone else is not even having, that don't matter) all the more reason to screech at lazy they are.
I don't know how much more I need to sperg out a shot-for-shot remake of your diary of gross mistakes that no one actually made.
I am going to send you the money because you've lost everything you had by chasing base, craven highs with your mewling coterie of bullying and swindling theft merchants — because of course this was all your idea, what a great idea, spend a few weeks confusing someone who knows very little of what people with absolutely no reason to care about people with absolutely no social support system are capable of doing; and then let yourself be programmed by adults to believe that I somehow developed the sophistication to, #1) infect myself with a deadly disease, #2) defile myself with another disease while simultaneously mocking the urge to mother (which you literally said nothing about ever but of course all women do nothing else but plots with dolls(; #3) you simply never thought any of this through and allowed fourth dimensional fagbreeders to cover the world with the exact antithesis of reality.
Which was this: I did what I thought was best and what I would have found something I would be able to accept. Since I DIDN'T HAVE TELEMPATHETIC NEGOTIATIONS FOR SIMULATED RAPE AGREEMENTS WHILE HIGH AS BALLS ON CRYSTAL METHAMPHETAMINE AT ANY AGE.
LET ALONE AT FIFTEEN. I am sure you had it all planned out beautifully with SOMEONE ELSE ENTIRELY WHO SOUGHT TO EXPLOIT US BOTH, hi Babs, please don't feel awful, as it was a pretty good plan and a very generous opportunity to someone who actually wanted to reproduce and actually had money. I am sure my parents had plenty of stolen wealth. I am sure they still do. The wages of sin are death. #paymetoo
None of it is something I knew anything about, I still don't, nobody has ever answered a question I have put to them in my entire life in any useful manner, and half a day after begging for $30 like it was the the of the world, now it's $29 needed for —
it's just so your faggot cop boyfriend will feel like a real man while you go off “to work,” and the case-building lately has been truly phoned in while everyone fronts that butter wouldn't melt in your mouths, not a one.
But meanwhile you condemn me for having zero shame about being competent of my own limits and the law. I'm pretty sure no one could ever limit you at all or prepare you for the day, maybe today, when consequences at last present themselves.
It's not the first time you've hassled me for cash. You have never had any respect for me to lose and I doubt there's a single speck of manseed any of your entourage leaves behind that you don't roll around in so as to take the edge off.
That's great for you all. What would also be great is if you had any reason to pursue the mindless pursuit of ever greater hoards of piled-high fiat and conquests empty of any significance except you showed me who is boss, again, like a ©o©k-enslaved Amway™ distro slob with neither couth nor concern for anything that isn't getting either from anyone without a struggle or a trip from a fag beginning and closing it at all at final wolf final rust the mmmmm. Tell it to whatever gets sent in to off themselves when the pocket change is down and low, low, low. So low that it is time to fraud less and celebrate more and I am sure that when personal involvement is called for, your sparrowhawk grimgott’s crush pincers can pull off the illusion. Or whatever it is you do with money obtained through deception that can only delude those who forgot I was only here to follow the money. Oh obviously. Nothing better. Hugs are lies.
Thirty years and not one mental health doctor has explained how shallow most of you have been the entire time. I don't get asking me for anything. You conned me and knowingly helped that minor to get with me in any way. SIXTEEN ISN'T A MINOR UNLESS IT IS. FFS, you're not even a pædophile, they just tell you that while hitting you up with smack for the fluffing. (I hear that it's slimming.)
Lying to everyone reading the conversations that never have been about anything but keeping everyone from noticing that someone was rolled for money but omfg like you are literally just giving it away, dude bro I think you need to take a step back.
It's probably just Africa. It's probably nothing to you. I probably will claim 200ft of conveniently marked territory.
That's where you can go prepare to explain to a GRAND JURY INQUIRY as if it matters at all. It's just money.
You have plenty. I have virtually zero and watching you Hoove®™ it up for the benefit of the losers who turned you into a cash-fisted snorefest that they could use as a weapon against lazy children of first generation immigrants is a triumph of technology and genteel breeding that any Nouveau Schwabenlander should feel empowered by.
In Life, if one does have the shekels of another, one doesn't have anything at all, really, except for a tongue typecast as a Cocaroon and a new high score, taken off the backs of the proletariat and swiped from the mouths of their children; that they don't have, didn't choose, and would have been sold for organ meat and easily as they would have been juiced up as >Ⓜ️K∆>k†¡ve revenen∞ers for the apparatchik bureaucracy and trophies to signify the grand rank of family.
And then made into whatever someone with a lot of money does with thoughtlessly spawned vermin–·¡si-h mid-tier citizens. I wouldn't know, buy them sunglasses and beers without implying that they owe anyone anything.
I changed my mind. (I am sure your girlfriend hates my money until her partners litterally rape the stuff out of your grasp. (700$ on clothes and you “forgot.” Hardly stolen; they were probably entered into evidence.) You have plenty of people you can beg from. Maybe you can get one to remember your Dad's birthday. Or yours. Or hers. Those are days when no one gives me any money, by the way. This year was particularly pathetic, as I've never seen such a load of fake work time wasting in my life. Like I was expecting anyone to do anything I desired; or that limping around in a ghost car with nowhere to go — a trespass order that your local badge vadge rapers force upon the residents of a home labeled with the time of my birth on it, does anyone consider that's a great point of inflection to apply pressure, of course not.
Not #Officially. You're living the dream and the dog never morphs into a rabid raping biped, that's totally hackneyed. Instead: YOU'RE THE F****** TRUSTEE, AND YOU HAVE A GANG OF THUGS THAT ROBS ME BLIND IN MY HOUSE PREVENTING ME FROM GOING ANYWHERE AND SPREADING RUMORS DESIGNED TO KEEP ME ISOLATED FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE AND NOBODY CAN F****** TELL. Bullshit, you just pay extra to keep the wheels greased. You trapdoor floor me into a Kafkaesque Romper Room and not one goddam clinician asks me a fucking doctor question, because... why? EVERYBODY KNOWS AND THEY HAVE FOR 20 YEARS, YOU HAVE A CONSPIRACY OF S*** SPLAT SILENCE TO MAKE SURE NOBODY FINDS OUT. It's not even all that impressive. It's just a stupid thing your primary enabling rapist says before feeding you the drug milk.
Who is Alli’s son and hasn't figured out that stealing from anyone is only taking from one’s own future. For example, you had your chance to provide exculpatory evidence to the Court.
Your two (2) narc daddies have spent the last four years reducing this place to rubble while taking everything “somewhere” and this seems like a good use of everyone's time, I guess? It's probably being stolen again by whatever überj∞ claws up the gutterspout and none of you really care what you're getting from a weary veteran of public recess Hell.
As long as I don't have as much as (You.) I'll just figure it out with a crippling disease vector and a necrotic reputation and a cooing gaggle of drooling simpleton party cadre extras haunting my life FOREVER because you weren't able to succeed in making another fail.
That is what grooming gangs do and when enough people thought you had caused enough skid row reliquary of loathing, they took your fun away and this was meant to let us both die in proximity while surrounded by ash. For he is aptly named and if it is at all possible, you'll never remember me at all while being sponked on by a coke wizard who lied to me about some dame that was either your sister or your wife and while there is no legal reason to tell me the truth, intending to decieve Clergy is mostly likely a quick way to ensure that Special Consequences will be invoked. Hang on.
* Jackstar has no reason to refrain from ever stealing from your (blank). Because you all conspired together to micro-mute my everything. Since I didn't know any better for myself than did any of you.
To this very day: my resources have slowly vanished and I don't get paid. Ever. By anyone. For anything ever at all.
I don't need to give you money. You don't need to know what you and your squad of robbing fag-hoods are actually doing... the color wants out of the ground, and you are all only too-too happy to obey the demands of The Earth.
Then it's the roof, Baby. Get choked out by Rabbi Wye (I remember wondering if she had her own dick to go with those boots and didn't care either way before she was murdered by your henchinator safety guy, so I'm reminded that work has not and will not set me free) while Life is gradually cheapened on the daily by those who would do to you for free, what you thought I should be paying you for.
How fucked up you are! (Standards.) And before you gray out in self-loathing, it's important that you know that there are simple solutions for all of your simplest of problems.
Your Dad simply doesn't want you to have solved nor does he think I am going to solve anything with you. Or §🆔i-!E.
There are people for the likes of μou, and your ilk. I heard Ben punch you in the face while yelling at you to stay off the phone. It was all staged, course.
Neither of you would ever call me unless for something fake. Except for money. (I may have impacted your future earnings potential by openly demonstrating what profoundly desolate spiritual disgust looks like because I had no reason to hide anything.
Whereas none of you can admit what you did, what you know, how you were involved, or can and yet articulate what it means to realize this was all orchestrated in order to remove competition that is in the way of exploiting your physical body as much and as grotesquely as is at all possible.) And the money is not just for keeping score.
Your children are paid to tell the world that I have diseases that I don't and am worse than everything not good. Because while Hell hath no fury, make sure to know how special your Life really is.
Hell hath no fury because Man built it for Woman to get maximum froth on her own. She's a strong, independent person. She don't need no Man around after lifting every penny and putting down every action and there's nothing wrong with any of that.
There's something wrong with all of you because managing a Trust that someone is the SOLE and EXCLUSIVE BENEFICIARY OF is prohibitively difficult when the identity of The Trustee is both unknown and uncontactable for months at a time and people are literally paid to keep everything a secret.
I'm serious. It's major felony fraud and this means to you unfathomably little. I am surrounded by illiquid resources and vicious homophæ ready to pounce on any productive effort.
NGL: Kiwi->Knickers, you have a goddam condition and your entourage uses it all for sport in accordance with their merest whim. YOU LITERALLY PAY THESE ASSHOLES TO MAKE A BIG FUCKING MESS. I'VE BEEN WATCHING THEM DO THIS FOR YEARS. BOTH! HOUSES! What the fuck do you think I'm going to do in response, add another color of highlighter to my resumé which consists of a list of boring and stupid, menial tasks performed invariably badly for Bad Lē‽‽‽, and happen in parallel time while your other group of whack-job ass-breathing scum steal everything and anything I might ever plan to have made use of? That shouldn't even be a question, that's done on the daily in Batshit L∆L∆L∆nd.
Not one goddam thing that I considered to be important has been addressed here. I'm sure you know better than I, why the fuck am I even here? BECAUSE YOU NEED TO LAUNDER MONEY. THAT'S IT. THAT IS ALL.
YOU ARE ALL UNFATHOMABLY EXPLOITED DOPELORD MORONS BEING TRAFFICKED BY THE ONE PERSON WHO DESERVES ANY RESPECT AROUND HERE. BOOM BOOM BOOM. YOU THINK YOU'RE ALL SO GODDAM SPECIAL.
YOU ARE TRAFFICK, AND SPECTACULARLY ASININE TRAFFICK AT THAT. SHITLOADS OF MONEY, LYING AROUND ON THE TABLE WHILE YOU FUCKWIT JUNKY DOPEHOUNDS ISOLATE EVERYTHING OUT OF REACH AND INACCESSIBLE TO ANY POSSIBLE PRODUCTIVE USE. Sure, you know better. I'll just wait until you're done raping whichever quasi-spouse your RapeFæg™ husband decides to put in the ringer that hour. Kiss my grits, you degenerate twatweasel scum. Hang on.
* Jackstar is going to go unfathomably medieval on Ross®∆ⁿ/d
You want sober with a job because that would be close enough to a father figure that tickling his balls while asking for cash would still be incestuous enough to make the pulse race worth the pistol’s trigger *click*
