I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about leaving the dishes in the basement. I think that my stay in your place was marked by lethargy, depression and lack of discipline. I was not taking care of myself and my surroundings.
I’m working to improve this in my life, so that what happened at your place doesn’t occur again. In order for me to move forward, I need to have the latest places I’ve stayed verified: how long I was living there, how much I was paying, was I putting up my fair share financially.
If you could please contact me, so that I can move forward with this, that would be much appreciated. Thank you.
May I understand where my consiousness can take me I a way where the light I send into the Universe comes from my heart. What I meant: may I be aware of the thoughts that I sense are good, meaningful dialogues within myself.
I can’t find any real meaning to my life. I really can’t think of any reasons to live. Why not take my life? There are not very many people who would miss me. I’m sure a handful of people would gather for the service and say, “Oh, that’s too bad.” or “I just don’t understand.” No one really gives a shit; they never have. Probably never will if I choose to live. I imagine I would struggle, poor and with what little beauty I have left would fade. My kids would hate me and I die sad and alone. The same way I came into the world.
I can’t lie and say I haven’t had blessings but I gave it all away in search of securing love, I suppose.
I always asked myself, “what’s wrong with me?” I guess no one would know if they were the problem. I must be. I tried so hard with my husband and that failed. I tried so hard with my parents and siblings and failed again. They just used me until I had nothing to give, then left me alone in the world.
Does it matter I’m scared and suicidal. Why haven’t I gotten the courage to just end it all. I feel weak and full of shit. I’m thinking this next time I’ll make sure I don’t wake up. I wonder if they will shave my head and sell my hear or bury me in a card board box never worth loving, too afraid to die, needle in arm, sitting on the bathroom floor crying. Spirits so broken I just need a little hand. Hoping this shot will take me to another land.
My joke of an existence, living day and night alone and scared. I would tell someone if I could find someone who gave a shit. So ready to say fuck it and just quit.
(Editors note: No worries. We care, and Samantha’s getting help.)
A belated happy birthday, and a happy release to Mustafa, Facilitator of Circle of the Stars, recently released from Mountainview Correctional Facility, and as of February 7th, twenty six years on the planet, and passed the quarter century mark. And, he’s single now, ladies. SALUTE!
Check out this viddy that I just found of Mustafa speaking about the dangers of spiggitti:
And, send out lots of good energy to our intern and Special Agent of the Ministry of Executive Direction, G.Raff, who has gone off to the cracker factory for a moment to get her scales calibrated. LOVE AND ROCKETS, G!
And, I hope that y’all are warm and safe, or mental or medicated enough to be really enjoying this insane storm, heya?
For those of us proud to be soldiers of the Southern Tribe:
1. The Portland Food Co-Op, located beside the rite aide and across the street from St. Vincent’s on Congress charges Citizens $100 for a years membership. But if you have your food stamp card, it’s only $10! Benefits are endless.
2. St. Vincent’s Soup Kitchen closes whenever the Portland schools close.
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