Rosenut

There is no reason for me to write, nor are there any words or set of words which are springing to mind, clamoring for me to type them for your benefit, pleasure or sheer boredom.

I think there is nothing which makes life freer than the knowledge that everybody who loves you has a life that they have to believe in -- and this is because there is nothing that makes anyone stronger than they are. 

Just to pretend that I am what I am, I wonder whether I can say I am trying like a crook, a bitch and a hooker to stop being a rude stupid nutjob.

As you can tell, I have failed in the very setting out of the task which I have presented here.

I dream that one day a person who loves me will say:  "You CAN have hope," that I will make my own hopes free (make them alive, peaceful and right).

So, when you examine my life, you may arrive at the conclusion that no one will ever become my own masquerade (of rights and love).  Rights are about protecting love.

I wish you would tell me that there was another freedom besides being my own creator.  Doubt and agony/anxiety have not ceased to hold their sway.  I can only imagine/envision a time when I am not loving (or perhaps when I am loving) and that you have begun to allow my grief to fade.

I have nothing to say to my mother and my mother has nothing to say to me.