Is this MY blog or YOURS?

I find myself writing again just a few hours after the last alarmingly disconnected though somewhat productive procession of thoughts toward a conclusion that I am not going to make a sufferer for drugs.

I am knowing lots (much) displeasure.

See that you also are feeling creepy.

I make you know that senses of freedom give love but I don't do anything that is good because there is no strength in me.

I suppose you have contempt for this. Plenty of you have expressed this contempt. I have contempt for it.

There is no good in sucking people for a way to deal with a horse (me).

I like to know what others are doing. I like to know why I am sarcastic. I like to know why I give suffering such importance and power. I don't like it. I don't like that conviction that everyone has that I am poor.

A good starting point: poverty.

I have several thousand dollars. I may not ever use any of it. I may give it back to my family whence it came.

Even having this money I know that I can't do shit because I am peaceful.

This is making me angry.

You try to tell me that I am foolish. You try to make me feel that I can make good.

If that's true then how do I decide love is strong? I do not know how to make happiness for good. I must be convinced I am not good. Who convinced me of that? It was probably fools.

I wish you would have something else besides me.

I know you do.

I want to make love as a way to feel like a woman. That is of course a laughable crime against correct politics.

I hope correct politics goes to a place where it can affront and confront nothing but its own needs.

Live, person.

How?

You say.

I say, be good. Need is cruel,.

Bashing life is hopeless.

Give yourself a knowledge that giving is free.

I am foolish.

I am using my mother because she has to be nice to me.

That is why I have to leave.

Bored.

death is nothing because it only likes thugs.

I am a her.

Thuggery is boring.

Sex is a pain.

Dreams make love creative. I only make changes to be hopeful toward life.

(Aggressive/yearning(demanding))

I don't like fun. I don't like home. I don't like giving love to the friends I have because they are dark and I am death.

I hope you will love me. I hope you can listen to the knowledge that Goddesses like dreams.

I need a hug.

Men, Darkness, Freedom