Almost shit my pants this morning. Again. Because he’s shoving dragon dick in his ass in the bathroom. Again. On DXM he ordered with my card without my consent. Again. Has the audacity to come out a half-hour after I first knocked to tell me that I should take care of myself today. So, I go to go do my basic, mandatory bodily function. Oh, he’s not ready. He needs a few more minutes to clean up to leave massive amounts of lube residue on the floor and about a pound of paper towels AND toilet paper in the toilet. Again.
His mom’s in on it. I Know this on an intuitive level. He both knew I visited his mom when I came back and faked surprise/disdain when I told him (he has a distinct tell when he lies, not being fully aware other people can see how his flat/blunt affect impacts his ability to lie believably). His mom doesn’t though. She lied well. There were discrepancies between what he’s told me, actually honestly, to highlight what she was hiding to protect herself.
She also kept coming back to this point of how I was dealing with him every day, in the context of how his (fake?) insane bullshit is challenging and requires me to constantly and continuously set my anger down as I’m triggered every which way. The flame goes out when you put it down enough times.
But this all harkens back to how he lied about having HIV and a warrant so that he could control me, making me think there was a guarantee that I was being arrested and it would be thrown out, because my rights have been violated by police pretending to be doctors to deceive me and get into my house, which I have evidence in a safe place to prove this.
Thus, his mom is in on it, I must reasonably deduce. His dad, whom I’m forced to take loans from, keeps playing dumb, and every time he does a dumb, he says n spells “rediculus” wrong, as a callback to something said early on. So, this mother fucker who got me to fall in love with him and then made me think he was my CIA handler, is just ALLOWED to run rampant and make me cause myself bodily harm burning and cutting and punching myself, as well as the property damage I’ve done (few holes in the wall, dented the fridge; both in rage), compared to the damage he’s done (deliberately and consciously breaking the washer, dryer, and dishwasher, as well as tearing several things off the wall).
But y’know, I just say this for it to come up in discovery. For that murder trial I’m going to have to sit through when I lose it and break every bone in this lying man’s body with a hammer, as his mom also (supposedly) brandished against him. She doesn’t seem genuinely distraught about her choices, though. Just saying memorized club passwords with the facial expressions she THINKS a person has when describing these sorts of things I experience in this show I’m in.
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I don’t know what the question is. There’s this concept in linguistics - conveyance - which is how well the receiver(s) of your transmission can parse meaning. This requires the use of one’s empathy skills to simulate the other person’s perspective(s) well enough to piece together the right contextual clues to parse meaning from. This picture demonstrates the nature of applied empathy:
This looks so chaotic and disjointed I wasn’t sure what community it’s from. There’s a title that could be completely disconnected and I don’t know if that relates in any way. The picture is a shit post. The text is a really long chaotic text about someone struggling with a difficult family situation. Maybe that’s you, at this point I gotta suspect this could be disingenuous or or just someone who is drunk or high.
Your comment clears up nothing, it’s just a very defensive way of talking down on the very natural confusion.
What I’m trying to say is: can you explain if this is original, why you put a meme in the picture, what the title means, if you’re struggling or why you posted this and anything else to help us understand this post.
And this is what the Buddha statue was saying, as I moved my “self” to better CONVEY this information.
In communication, there is transmitter
Just as there’s a sumtīm deaf receiver
It is both their duties to speak 'n listen
& clearly, the words I speak do glisten
As I write 2k-7k every single day to be
The best wordsmither yu ever did see
So, perhaps, “me” be the real problem
If you look into a mirror, hu is “them?”
See, here’s the thing. I know what I do with my life. I know what people tell me about the things I say online, and there’s two distinct types
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Those who compliment me to go on to have a nice discussion about how God is a unified field of consciousness that arose from the supersymmetry of the ever-present, eternal emptiness to then fold in and on Itself across eleven dimensions to form a topological matrix that acts as a monadic nodal communication system
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People who can’t understand me no matter what, even if I spent twenty paragraphs explaining wtf the first example means
Try harder. Stretch yourself. You have the internet! You can extract meaning from what you don’t understand, like the Bible. But I just say that out of statistical reasons.
Oh, and put a picture? Marketing. I have an educational (f)art project. But you took no effort to understand me, OR EVEN POSE YOUR OWN QUESTION, so God knows you’re going to get slightly miffed at this because you can’t help yourself, which is what my educational (f)art project is DESIGNED to fix.
Free will is a skill; our agency is like a muscle that can be worked out so you don’t have to suffer when you experience dukkha. This is what my life partner - who literally works with the CIA, as I think I do (I stare at goats, which is a reference I HAVE to state, because you wouldn’t look it up on your own) - and thus in this insane hell I’m in, I’m preparing to get famous, where lotsa “you” show up to criticize me on a daily basis.
I’m a juggler, obviously.
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