Of all the letters written...
As they shout its a joke
The one I usually
fail to mention
The last will she broke
Arose to a challenge
One she couldn't do alone
For I told her
how to make win undone
Take the details from the room
Lock the door and hide the broom Even now arrogance adds
As they say
rhyme and reason has no ass
As I over lap my own words
from hers My memory of what
triggered this is removed...
...struggle...
A want to start a new stanza
as I do
...ah that voice of two that so
annoys you
You know the one
that make you so unique
Calls you out and says there is
one...
Ah yes...
"that defies me" another chimes in...
As before I say again
I am a writer
don't come back here again
For if you do
my words intertwine with you
and once again
I'll just show the world
I know how to *u**you...
...yeah that last little bit
does sound better that way
but come on 'others' stop
bulling her...She hasn't dealt
with
Numbers.
She is almighty untouchable indeed...
but one look at my book
you can read
How I the one
not afraid
will hunt her down,
have eyes turn on her
maybe not with speed
but dear you already know
home you won't leave
A bit of fear
though dealth will come
but fearless yet
for a psycho you
have proven to be
Dear you may not run from me
but deep inside
you have a small fear
of that crown
and what it won't be
A cover will fall and she
will not mourn
but look behind your back
for death will come
The letter of my last day
It says I don't walk away
All plans I had stolen away...
yes I smile
and someone smirks
but they already know
I'm not for worse
Take it all away
and find the truth
I still win
and it is what burns
all of you
Still digging deeper
to find the meaning
Hidden truth
and what comes
up behind you
Dig and nose but it-
circles, that hide it
Never alone
and never life to care
Only how to get out of this-
Solitary...
as they search
Circles...
...circles...
AND AROUND WE GO
As it is edited the trigger is pulled
Steal this one too...
You know to give it a voice
Stolen personality for...
You're right it was never you
Go back look again live My life
You put the puzzle in wrong order
again
Tag: memories
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OF ALL THE LETTERS WRITTEN
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Old Facebook Posts Haunt
Oh to be likened to the stars who’s life is not experienced until its death or to the sand who is incased in an agitated shell only to be released a pearl…comparitive to walking on earth only to live in eternity or wrapped in flesh and battled only to be set free as a prized item…
The above is one of the posts I slipped in between my ‘Biblical and Christian’ posts I used to vaguely explain my beliefs, what I felt was needed to make it through my situation. It basically means I would rather my life mean something then what it does. There are alot of posts I made to trigger memories at a later time kind of as a post it note or alarm that give me an idea on what to write and how to find and express my true self and what I believe. The rest is below which has a little broader meaning of the above post.
Better to have been and done good but can you with stand to be used as an example opposite of the message that motived you to be good and do good as a way to show what you stood for ment nothing. In the middle of a battle of who is right and who is wrong or good vs evil. They ask mockingly if I can withstand my message being denied but I ask can they handle knowing the real reason they blocked it in the first place. Thieves don’t mind as long as they have their spoils. Sheep and goats are sincere in their belief and stand on their traditions. The wicked in heart only cares no one sees the thieves and hides them while feeding the sheep and goats privately in each thier own fields. Those who have none give none and say foolish are those who call the none believers foolish. The believers of everything seem to be non existent and I am alone yet told they stand in the shadows waiting in darkness. The blessed be closest to my heart for they truly are brave. An understanding under my breath my only hope as each walks their path. None I wish to intrude or impress my truth. I only walk and am judged by my answers. Religion, Faith and Spirituality have become a place of judgement and force of which is the right to believe in. For one life for one eternity for some and one lesson for multiple lives it seems in others. I fear to even say for one there are many lessons for many lives to come together for how ever many understandings it takes over an eternity to realize our place and who and what we are without this tangible place.
-
Her stupidty
hand in hand
heart and heart
soul to soul
to never part
the ticking loud
time being lost
never ending sound
worth the cost?
wasting away
worth unknown
taken again
to be left alone
healing wounds
inflicted by self
pain for life
numbness melts
wake up today
please stop
take a stance
not easily caught
moment to moment
heart unspoken
floating away
leaves you broken
-
A Little Over
May 1st was 7 days ago. I remember the day that started with no toilet paper and a bill I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep. The last few weeks I have struggled with getting out one blog a week as promised. They say I can’t write and keep me from it. Those words are supposed to be a testament to my lack of sleep and improper diet. The last blog ment to sound as if I was totally in coherent. I have a draft that was supposed to be only in bullets so I would sound even more in coherent. The only thing I tire of is the people. They constantly tell me when and what to eat and to eat constantly. I have heard the same echo voices talking as I write, eat and try to be the independent person I am. The dark arts. As of late its been the connections of family to the military. I wonder if they knew or have forgotten my family ties to the military as well. When I started this part of the planning at age 26 I took in consideration the split in even what is supposed to be pure good service to the people. Honest and truthful. Some server under no harm. Yet when you are on the side were it seems ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE, not intended to reference the Bible but power, greed and selfishness which is fueled by the ability to have control through the authority given to you, it appears through the actions of some the abuse of power to have money and control over one’s own life becomes more important then your reason to serve in the first place. That is ofcourse me being kind and saying your reason was to serve the people and not to have money for school.
As writing this I am being watched by ways only those who know will know. Also here these thoughts are not my own. That from the beginning I have been someone else. That is from my birth. They have this desire to talk me into a circle thus slaming into a wall by dizziness. This tells me they are speaking to people who see time in a one demintal state and if I elaborate on this I am calling these people stupid and if I don’t elaborate then I am also calling them stupid. The rock and a hard place. I must comply to being made to be whatever I appear to be to hold a structure I spoke of or sound like I have contradicted myself meaning I am a liar and/or crazy. Every type of intelligence that steps in further proves my point. You would have a cookie cutter world because it is what is normal for you and replicates you. You wish to squeeze the actual life out of living and give the people a replication and say you did well because you have control of them and have them living in peace. When in truth you’ve only inflated your own ego and imprisoned the people.
As usual this entry is vague and a bit broken. I hope one day to be able to get away from all of it and just talk about a book or recipe. *sigh* it is frustrating to have to write this way.
Kimberly 8:08pm 5/7/23
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Bad Week, Subconscious Desire a Weak Excuse
I failed again at getting something in by Sunday but now understand that a letter was coming through. Below is one of the last things I wrote almost twenty years ago. I held it back. If you know you know. Some drop their hints some don’t. Truth be told we are nearing the end. I hope you all good, happy and healthy lives. Thanks to the ones who helped with this one. I hate/love you.
I have lived my life ignoring others in a space I love to hate and one that has proven to hate loving me. Something that underlines all these layers that keep piling up over all my abuse, hurt and pain. The unseen is the reason I commit the so called sin I plan. This not so silent killer is aided my many voices and split down a middle of those who mind their own business and those that seek drama whether to destroy or appear helpful as angels. Mediums bent on bringing out the crys of the suicidal when in truth it is thier intrusion into private mental space that causes the intent to begin. Forced to continue being placed in these spaces because it’s where they think I want to fit in. As if I wanted to fit in any where. Together yet apart as dare I say friends and not mere carriers of work slipping me my notes as if we are at some mediphoric table. One perhaps low to the floor while Indian style set knees knock against the frame of a worn out wooden table. Old and weathered through time. The pictures they lay out for me as my now editors since tables turned seek to tell me stories but instead runs the lines as if to say we can wait till another day. There will be another day?…Will there? I sometimes wonder as my life and plans get lost in this collage of my life hidden in the blue and red hueing purple sky filled with teddy bears, pirate ships and dippers. Golden peaks rising with my fears of a lost anology among the many conversations and practiced speeches. Perhaps a art museum date or concert confusion. Was it the stage or the middle of the floor…definitely not the VIP section or really in public at all I’m sure. The sex, drugs and achohol all symbolism for the code of rolling emotions that came crashing through once this 20/20 vision came splashing through a dam of years held back due to the divination. Agruements and cover ups. Realizing the dream would never take fruition seeking another road to set my skills into motion. Every road lead me away from the life they had planned. So no road in the end was the intention.(slide that list of math symbols to me, shh keep it secret and safe) Mediocre life of quite and pretend solitude as covert narcissists ate up my time and destroying the life intended to be mine and only mine. All that money on their mind knowing I would walk away never to return and leave them alone with what they claimed was suffocation. A life time of continuing to remind others of the time wasted and the lack of respect and the to little to late care placed on the table from selfishness that said I only like you because you said you would compromise all your time for me. The constant admission that I am the problem just as many others and fitting that out across a stretch of internet conversations that will arguably be debated as to being used or to be used. Does it matter? The statements and decisions made as I interjected a few notes some personal some not. One thing I know is the connecting of dots and the problem solving I have come accustomed to that the origin seems to be ignored. The instinct and practiced critical thought processes running deep as I make my stand and leave. The judgemental stares as I follow the path through what seems like just another kind of hell trying to escape the upper side of it that has all the treats you might wish to eat. That realization all the treats aren’t real and the farther the walk the more disillusioned you become as your so called life doesn’t seem real. All the tragic endings and beautiful transformations made to save the innocence of children buying them a little more time before reality sets it. I want the children out of hell and in heaven. The ones with happy, healthy, well rounded utopian parents who have never had a broken relationship due to hurtful and harmful situations. For with them we would duplicate that in the same happy, healthy and well rounded utopian people in a rainbow colored world. The air seems thick with contextual emotions of reeling thought patterns motivated by intoxication but in reality it’s just another letter to my self that I put back that took time to lay out and plan. Having its own notes tied in. Now it’s just playing back as my time crunch screams you have little time for sleep and no time for hidden thoughts and cascading notes to write and throw to oceans and retrieve bottles of the same. No dancing, no parties, no more the life of the female Forest role even though the story goes you are the girl barely stepping back off the edge to run from the room. Note after note amongst so many sheets and yet all you were intended to be was just another lieing, crazy and lost little girl. They tried to stop me, he was about a week to late, figured it out when the comma took place. Instructions to write and my reply I already have and you decided to do it again trying to prove something I’m still not sure what. But again I stopped because of the ideas of others. As if I didn’t recognize my own face in the mirror. As if I hadn’t lived my own life. As if I couldn’t take the time to construct my own words. I touched it. I did. I regret and I don’t. As always both. On one side I am as purified as white gold on the other as dark as the most smoldering hot metal. Yet seeing nothing but diamonds in the sky and understanding this life was the only one I’d have, this life I lived in my mind. Divination by your hand stole it. Science by its own system saved me as voices reached out. The Supernatural shakes its head and I still have yet to figure what exactly her whisper said. The dark room and that screen was the time I knew my life…life would never reach past it for I am nothing but “a full blown loon” just as one says quietly another not knowing stakes the claim they make me as crazy as the moon. I laugh for I was born into what you call crazy I have been digging a way out but the longer I surveyed the area the more I realized it seems I’m camouflaged and unseen. With a Boo and a silent weapon just waiting for trip five and having that bang ending bullet to the brain. I don’t care what you believe I was there and felt every touch you left on me till baracaded doors were my only escape and you still found a way to take even my own work away. Inscribed and inbeded in time you just can’t except it I have found a way every time and I don’t care who knows it. Personal journals taken away and made a public display. Forced to put it out the for others to poke fun and humiliate. The nightmare that isn’t a nightmare but very real. “Oh the crys of the over dramatic, that is what they will say once I get her moved away.” Just another enemy in my way.
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Just Another Reminder
They lie to you
You know
Tell you things untrue
Things just to instigate you
They want to separate
Divide
Control is what they crave
Start a fight
Fill you with lies
Be everything you lean on
Mind control
Doll creation mode
Andriod for an asswhole
And what made me so
The truth
Gratitude and Gratefulness
You say in return for abuse
I've been nothing but thankful
Appreciative for surviving you
Coming this far
Living through your manipulation
Conscious and subconscious seperation
Be able to ware but not aware
Do as we say it's not a mistake
Oops didn't mean to cause a wheeze
Don't take a breathe
it's time to leave
Still walking you out
Just a reminder
We KNOW we have you figured out
But we are murders
Don't give a *u**
Get out
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Update: Thoughts I Hold Till the Right Day, Today
Repeat. I post the same pics. Not personal pics but pics I find so funny I can’t help not laugh every time I see them. I’ve been judged for it before. Some say I don’t remember doing it before and believe it is my first time and not aware.
They say come out of your room. Ofcourse I am informed that is my placement prior to this comment. It happens more then once and I am to say I am gay…or a liar perhaps…anything they want to put in my mouth and have it come back out. If I don’t comply then a punishment, more sleep deprivation, brain washing and repeating the same things till I meet their expectations.
To experience telling the truth and have people call you a liar. Ofcourse I am informed of the knowing my every move from needing to urinate to documenting my abuse. The childish attempts to the adult sarcastic remarks communicating the understanding of the situation. I admit I get lost in the mix. From gaslighting to efforts of encouraging my humorous outlook on life. Sometimes one gets hit while in the process of telling the children to walk away we laugh not in jest but for sanity’s sake.
Some ask why. Articulate? What happen to your time? My response is even when found telling my feelings of what has happened fail at connecting with words and coming out. The flood of memories as pictures pass through while sounds of they won’t believe and the occult has washed away the truth. It was a chance I took. After all the challenge of who was it and who are you was nothing new. I had already excepted my life and my story from my perspective would never be mine. It would always be someone else who had passed through. Something I think through out the years gave me comfort. How could I be the abused, it wasn’t me it was you. The disillusionment grew and grew. I had become the perfect child, the Daddy’s girl who for her family always gave in and came through. Not the independent person who plans how to be removed and moved only to onward move. The one who stays, lies and takes all the pain while sitting in a mediphoric chamber where the only stories are the ones the parents made. A toy, a doll, a performer. Entertainment for them and by their narcissistic behavior it appears I still am. It isn’t my life I write, not my poetry, not my story but everyone else’s I stole and strung others stories into. A mere mega phone to announce awareness of the abuse others suffer but nothing about me, I have never been used or abused. So no matter the time I have to articulate, the truth is lost due to the masses my step father and others have had me see that I’m nothing but just crazy. Most importantly a thief and well anything that would discredit me. Perhaps given all I’ve said, calling on the articulate was me being the sarcastic asswhole I am.
With these emotions an under current while I try to find ways to grow my currency, live life in the present and move past those who are unaware my life isn’t revolving around theirs. Trying to find a footing with the occult by definition, hanging over my head and judgement of how and when it began from people who aren’t detailed, thorough or slow to speak. Some get way to personal and with a judgmental tone of I know how it happened confess or I’ll just slander your name till I’m right and I win by default because you won’t write to me or call in. After all the occult lifestyle is a choice, just as child pornagraphy, or molestation and we as children know what we are getting into. Follow all these insults and results of rumors with everyday tasks of living a houseless life style. People standing outside your car while cat calling, mocking, gaslighting and instigating more drama we want more drama. Like my life and escape is a mere show to put on for entertainment and people pleasing, as if doing so increases my happiness as well as theirs. No time for healing. Just more of the same, push it down and plan for the day you pick up that gun and end everything because we will never stop treating you and your life as a game. I am a mental person who needs pulled out of a schizophrenic break, or so they would have me say. A cover for them so no one knows all the family secrets. Family secrets. That’s just the people I was born into. We haven’t even mentioned the test of humanity. My very sad and disillusioned attempt to try and save myself by reassuring my doubts I could get out without people being influenced by money and power.
So with these mountains and mole hills in my view, I do…I do sit here looking…and I do…I hear them telling me look over to the other side. But I also hear from there the ones before you and the ones after. I wish I could say the buffet was closed or that I no longer wish even of the honest my life to be biographical book on display. Some would say it’s the money, the sandwich (the one even I have joked of), or the lack of a home. It is time. Time wasted. Time I can’t get back. Time spent on experiences I will never be allowed to experience. Time I was told I would be able to make up. You’ll catch up they would say. Catch up. To what? What is all the words, all the art, all the music, all the work? If we have missed each and every metal and emotional growth in real time what is any of it. I didn’t sign up for a crash course at life. But that it what I’ve been forced to experience. Time is what I have missed. Experience is what I have been left with and that is something through everything I have been greatfull for. The awareness that though my time has been wasted by people trying to hold knowledge and information while stifling my experiences in attempts to control me. There is alot that can be stolen from a person. Experience is not one. For to be locked in a room with no hope for escape for a lifetime is still an experience. One that though this current body of flesh must endure, the very essence, the energy that makes us who and what we are will flow on and into something else carrying the experiences we learned and absorbed into ourselves.
Rolling around the words till the time is accurate, spill them out and act like they were never yours. My life is not my own. On days I don’t want to kill myself this lie is one reason. I am not that girl. I never will be. Still that gun looks real appealing for if I’m not planning someone else will. I haven’t been defeated, it’s just easier to belive it along with you.
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Set It Free They Say Choose Dealth
Nothing hurts
Nothing stings
Like being bashed
For finally, being me
From the prism in my mind
To the billboard where worlds collide
The show you see before you
The invisible me
I used to look in the mirror and see the girl next door
The pure, the perfect, flawless, daddy’s little girl
I loved her, admired her
The image I wished reflected me
Instead
All this change
All this waiting
All this patience
Your angry?
The real me
The pain, hurt, rejection, confusion
You don’t want anyone to see
But I do know it doesn’t define me
This importance of truth
Resounds over and over in me
I need to fall apart to be me
And I waited because of you
Now before it goes to my head
One way or another
I need to be me
Or I’ll have to set it free
-
Another Familiar Stranger
I turn on the music
Tend to the chore at hand
Few minutes you chime in
We know you're here
One of the few
My choice to forget
Memories refused
To much land to look back
Favorite color black
A little sensitive perhaps
Overthinker
Another betrayer
Definitely one of them
A muse of sorts
Leads me here
This one back and forth
One day they seem happy
The next ready to fight me
Sometimes moment to moment
The talk leads to numbness
Hides when sought
Quite as I spill my thoughts
To much in common
Perhaps not
Not one I think I want near
But definitely one I want here
Even if I scream leave me alone
They know how to stay still
No words
Now emotion
Just me being me
Us floating in an ocean
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Nachos Craving Check
Week 60. I bought these books from Amazon that I would never have been able to read while around my family. I have been struggling to break this mental bondage I am doing something wrong. I find it funny that even as strong willed and having a strong belief in ‘thinking for yourself’ as I am, I still struggle so much with the home training I had and being who I know I am vs who I was trained to be. I recently had a recurring dream of being called home by my stepfather followed with days of my mother telling me to come here. The method they use is connected with the dark arts and a big part of why I want to kill myself. They refuse to let go. Of course, they are not the only ones who attempt to call me to them. I remember being called a stray more than once and told I would have to struggle because of the culture. I am doing the best I can to be separate from them not just physically but mentally as well. I think moving on with healing and not hiding secrets is more difficult than I thought; especially for someone who is introverted and wanting to live a private life and being forced to live otherwise in order to escape and survive.
In other, more happy news, I found a way to have the nachos I have been craving. It was too late when I realized I could have taken pictures to post. I have struggled with the whole picture and video due to my situation. I was so excited to finally get the chance to make
them. I found this electric lunch box that heats up cooked food. So, I layered my spicy nacho Doritos on the bottom and then mozzarella, fajita beef, sharp cheddar, real bacon bits and Doritos spicy nacho cheese dip and put the lid on. It took about 20 min for the cheese to melt. I put Tabasco sauce on top and ate them with avocado and jalapeños. It definitely satisfied my craving. I was afraid the chips might get soggy, but 20 minutes was okay. Any longer though and I think they may have lost their crunch.I am kind of blah lately. I am definitely feeling the disappointment of not being able to get into an apartment yet but more okay mentally than I originally thought I would be. Some days I am crawling out of my skin and others I am more accepting as “this is just for right now, breathe” and am able to tolerate both. I think the hardest part is the sleep. I scare myself sometimes when I park somewhere and literally go into such a deep sleep for over eight hours and wake to realize how much time has passed and I how something could have happened to me or my car. I am constantly fatigued it seems and the human body can only go so long. It is another reason, alongside histamine Intolerance, that I try to watch how much I eat.
I think one of the more difficult things to do is write about a day-to-day life that is so boring as wake up, work, sleep and do it all again. I am not one to talk about others’ lives. I remember when some people thought I needed drama in order to have something to write. Yeah, I do not want drama in my life to just have something to write about. I would prefer to read a book and maybe share my thoughts on it. One thing I find hard is talking about an issue without having all the facts. I am still dealing with some of the people in my life not letting me access certain information so I can live out my life as I wish. Day by day right. So, one step at a time and remembering to breathe through their ignorance and hope they are learning to let go themselves and understand they are not needed as parents or guardians either. Narcissistic people can be difficult to remove yourself from when in this culture.
I hope you guys are having a better start for 2023 and seeing potential for a happy and fulfilling rest of the year. As always may the road rise up to meet you, all your days have blessings and remember to learn something so the same mistakes are not repeated. Much love to you all.
Kimberly 7:24pm 02/25/23 (they will not stop tfw)