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Showing posts with label borderline personality disorder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label borderline personality disorder. Show all posts

Monday, January 9

Lifestyles of the group home (transitional) transients - freon-huffing, post-cloudz 🤯

 Man, oh, man, these housemates of mine really pop off, for the start of a day - a workweek Monday, for that matter.

Having spent some years in transitional living homes, after doing some time, immemorable, of some form, around the time I was evicted from my Section 8 apartment, for excessive crumbs and knickknacks crumbs and knickknacks awrr rawr rawr, I’d (fearfully so) had become acquainted with some transient group home types, much more down to home and in-my-face, err, (some other) mental health detriment, some other personality disorder. 

That being said, I do have some reasonably good and well-read psychology chops, so I commonly moonlight as a public health operative, out in the field, or, at home, much the same - that is, to say, that these demographics are much like common folk who are out and about, and I hear that many of them are equitably to be found in sober living home settings; it’s a certain branch off-shoot of that lifestyle and placement, by public and mental health, as well as social service and local government organizations. 

This is transitional living.

I’ll keep it short, and to the point - these folks share their knowledge base and resources, however well-resourced, somewhat fairly freely, amongst each other, and, in my case, they find me the “gay” one - the one to pick on, for being well-groomed, well-dressed, clean cut, etc., so they direct a significant amount of inappropriate attention towards me, once I leave home, to head out, and feed the pigeons, for my work day, or, perhaps, they do it somewhere off in the periphery. 

But anyways, this is the memo. The drama, of an ongoing nature, I’ve come to (re-)discover, through “hearing” stuff - something along these lines, I’ll say, tantamount to a strong air-pressure leakage, from a holding tank, perhaps of a commercial, rather than personal, -sized tank, such as for Freon tank refilling, or installation. 

Essentially, it seems to allow for the users to become exotically more so euphorically intoxicated, with blissful renditions upon life, at a strange hour, in life, (comparatively), such as perhaps just prior to 8 a.m., through 9:30 a.m., or so. I did “similarly,” yet not “huffing” stuff(-ly) so, types of things, back in college, when I had a girlfriend, but I was, comparatively, embarrassed, when I realized that my neighbor could hear me, from across the way. 



Thursday, April 21

Having an existential crisis in front of someone is only attractive to socially immature individuals.

 On one hand, I suppose that

it would be the case, that I thought about attraction, in the context of having met an attractive young lady today, although I shrugged off the superficiality of the encounter by walking away. She had walked up to me, for that matter - it wasn’t quite me that had met her. 

The thing that was distinctive about her was that she was going through a borderline personality disorder moment; she spoke about regrets over having lost someone (something like that), and that she was looking for her husband - a vague reference, but in this case, it could have meant that she was already with somebody who was taking care of her. 

The point being, is that I felt like many types of guys I would imagine, in life, even at the age that we are - amongst those I had grown up with; I just turned 40 a few weeks ago. She was less than half my age. I recognized signs of that she damages relationships, on account of her not paying attention to people, and possibly, for that matter, she has an excess of narcissistic supply, in being an attractive young lady, of her sort (I won’t get in to details, for the sake of privacy). She was perfectly adept in firing up an encounter with a stranger - a useful social skill, yet I knew that I would probably fail miserably, in my own eyes, as well as in the eyes of others, should it have been the case that I try to pursue her romantically. She was engrossed with some sort of dilemma that she didn’t quite enumerate for me, and she was somewhat flighty, herself, in having so much to talk about, yet she wasn’t all that well composed, or considerate, in explaining exactly what was going on. This sort of person has problems in relationships - because they would come so easily, and to her, as a narcissist, she would be capable of easily undoing the relationship, should some kind of unsustainable distraction take her by the reins. 

I somewhat felt that I could be a simple, temporary confidant, or slight mentor, for her, if I thought of some things to say to her, although she wasn’t all that interested in stuff that I had to talk about, such as my fragrances, and stuff, although she did say that I smelled great, with the fragrance that I was wearing.

So I ended up walking away, asking her if she cared to join me, and she went about her own way, just as easily. This is the test of non-attachment qualities of a person; a thing that establishes criteria of detachment and professionalism, or maturity, in the subject of psychological wellbeing and best practices. 

Update: April 21st, 2022: despite making my best efforts to keep the young lady out of my head, the young lady seemed to pop up, in my mind, here and there, as I would make my common rounds about town, and she was portrayed as various things, in my mind - many of those things pertaining to violence and coerced sex acts, as well as other tragic outcomes for her that she would have conceivably run in to, being that she is an attractive young lady. I somewhat simply believe that many guys would act like that towards her, for having much less experience and less of a tempering of sexual attitudes; the streets are a dangerous place, at times, I felt. I also heard that she had put herself out of her home, and that she stayed with her parents, and that she was looking for her husband, for example, and that that would have been their housing accommodation - a charmingly romantic thing to suppose, and her parents had not wanted her to fornicate with a partner in life, ostensibly, in a sinful manner; that is to say, that the young lady was willing to sacrifice having access to the privileges of home for living in a tent, in their back yard. I heard things such as that she was one of the visitors to my room, where I live, where perhaps the home’s manager had been allowing people to enter in to my room, because they were fascinated by it, and perhaps she did do that, and she became infatuated with the notion of meeting with me - ostensibly, a far cry from understanding if this is true or not.

Tuesday, March 8

A case for defending Russia, throughout the warmongering of early 2022,

 It’s a quite easy topic to nitpick at, on one hand, but regardless, look at some of the news topic trends that make headway, out here, in the U.S.; in Los Angeles, at a minimum. 

I’m referring to the staged displays of pompous destruction, the “right” of the madman, the mob rules directives and concessions that are made, and what; all that much, of Los Angeles, by and large, is greatly changed, over the past several years? On one hand, we don’t seem to know all that much about Russia, collectively. I happen to be a slight insider in to the culture of Russia, having had been acquainted with, befriended, and eventually having married, for a short time, a young native Russian lady, who happened to speak English quite well, and intelligently. (We broke up because I couldn’t stand her having her free time, and I was a distrustful crack cocaine binger, throughout the whole thing - she lost her patience with me on that sort of context, about things). 

Some pics pertaining to that stage and time of my life.






First of all, I’ll cover some things that are good about Russia. I’ll assume that perhaps this whole news story “coverage” thing is just collateral damage, for shipping them our dope, or something like that, and things had to turn up bwammo, for the sake of propaganda - even just “perhaps,” as such, but that’s what’s coming to mind, in writing this out. 

Thursday, January 20

A practical, real-world corollary to my previous post, on the MKULTRA program. (Update)

In this cutting edge and (as-of-yet) still largely ill-understood context of mind control

and of relevant government and intelligence agency programs and implementations of such, thereof, my previous post seemed to have foreshadowed some requisition and atonement, for that the context of mind control, and its subjects, being myself, and some of those amongst me, having become a needed issue to have been attended to; to my appreciation, what had been a developing and complicated issue, in the context of the subject (my [group home] neighbor): Omar Andrade having, of recent weeks, become a commonplace and recurrent sleepless madman, he thence had, just yesterday, become subject to his more primitivistic, subconscious, and limbic-minded self, in presenting himself as an individual who had lost control of his inhibitions and rational awareness in life, as a relentlessly outspoken and violently hostile and aggressively-willing mind control aberration. 

It was the first thing in the morning; as for myself, not the most astute time in life to wake up and start the day; it was perhaps 9 a.m., or so. I had, in my youth, more commonly had been accustomed to waking up earlier to start my day; yet I would offer that I’m constantly subject to victimizations, of a mental health disparagement, and, as such, I simply have shortcomings about my life, to attest to, and for that matter, I, in turn, am given license and disclosure as to who displays a lack of social and emotional intelligence, in my proximity, in life, for claims (which seem common) of that such shortcomings and presentations of myself “don’t matter,” or come to be disregarded, being that these are complex issues, obviously, to discuss and intelligibly manage. It’s simply what I had been accustomed to encountering, in making my case known to what establishment and personnel are afforded to me, being that I am a mental health services and benefits recipient, in terms of government programs that were offered to me; as such, and rather, though, as these benefits, such as housing and case management, are received - at this point in time, not all of the mental health service establishments - such as housing, in particular, have sufficiently professionally-licensed and appropriate personnel providing the fulfillments of the mental health program: here, in Los Angeles County, under the LACDMH (Department of Mental Health) program known as Full Service Partnership, in which housing, case management, medication, and perhaps some therapy and psychological (or, at least, psychiatric) behavioral services are provided for individuals. In its fulfillment, as for myself, I do receive these basic services, although mental health abuses are still murky territory, in the criminal justice system, as for who, or how, or even that: mental health abuses are properly addressed - that Omar Andrade, for one, had been a developing and ongoing mind-control aberration, most ostensibly, was an issue that was seen to have been “negligible” in needs-to-be addressed [sorts of] priorities, as far as people I could, and did, reach out to, as far as seeking support in attending to this (acute) crisis, that it had come to - yesterday morning (Wednesday, January 2022), that it was.

Omar Andrade had, for weeks leading up to this acute psychiatric emergency, in which he displayed Axis-1 symptoms of psychotic disorder, consequent to substance use disorder; also having displayed a lack of interest in eating, at proper meal times (eating disorder), and of that his behavior was commonly, and increasingly unstable and hostile towards others, sometimes of an unseen nature, of which I would discern to be the mind-control program’s evidenced presence in his mind, whereas he was a difficult individual to reach, due to an Axis-II sort of behavioral disorder portrayal of himself, in (as far as my own attempts to reach him); his incapability in, or refusal to: show a common courtesy to his housemates, and a lack of empathy and intelligence about displaying any sort of rational regard to a person’s sense of dignity and perhaps superiority over himself, that may be the case, in various instances, whereas he would portray a somewhat playful courtesy to someone in an already established position of authority, such as the house manager; whereas, in this acute crisis incident, of yesterday morning, he was physically aggressive and overtly violent to “simply anyone,” including the group home’s manager - it seemed to, upon deeper psychological analysis, of what was visually ostensible, and, of a critical analysis sort of mind about discerning what the nature of the problem could be - it would be surmised, and asserted, I’d suppose of myself, of that he had simply stayed awake, for too many days and nights, on end, of an ongoing, unsustainable, irrational, and, as had developed, increasingly paranoid and hostile nature towards others - in this instance, of a completely baseless premise, in exerting his hostility towards all people he faced, in the home; this being at around 9 a.m. in the morning, and whereas he was blocking access to and from people’s rooms and accommodations of the household, such as the bathroom, with his violently hostile presentation of himself being the overtly irrational and subconsciously troubled mind, having become a criminal or psychiatric issue, for the police to have attended to. 

There was a great degree of administrative caution in approaching Omar, given that he was barricaded in the restroom when the police showed up, and initially, the house manager disregarded and downplayed my appeals to her, for assistance, the case being as that it was early (somewhat) in the morning, and that commonplace disparagements and a rueful disregard of etiquette and propriety is the characteristic and peculiar, as well as particular mode of conduct about herself (the house manager), whereas I “know better,” and expect better, but this occurrence being of somewhat irrelevant nature, given that the issue was resolved to my appreciation, and that she (the house manager) was generally irrelevant to the acute crisis occurrence that had developed, in the subject’s mind, of some sort of responsibility and irrationality that was the subject’s own willful and willing volition and capability to had established, in his own mind. Comparatively, I’m commonly misled, offered suggestions, and lobbed what would amount to a paranoid and suspicious mind, of others in my common proximity, and these experiences do, in truth, come at a challenging cost of a need to expend a great deal of critical and analytical thought, as well as that a disciplined and thorough self-examination of circumstances and accountability are required of a subject such as myself, as common as Omar Andrade could be, as far as substance use is concerned, whereas the perpetrator commonly and repeatedly displayed a lesser accountability and cares towards composure and restraint, given our needs fulfillment common space and placement in life, given that we were both occupants of the same living space. What had taken place in his mind, such that he found fault in others, to the extent that he decided, of at least his wakeful and present self, that morning, there in the hallway? I have some intimations, and summations, of what had been heard of him, leading up to this occurrence, of that he was culturally overtly proud, and needful, it would seem, of presenting himself as an outspoken individual, whereas, in other instances, he was unstable in his overall persona and present self, being “sometimes” superficially courteous, and, at other times, it would have seemed as though he had courted a happenstance, arbitrary, and chaotic - inconsiderate and semiotically cruel and condescending self, perhaps of a symbolic nature, of an evidently “simply present” will and volition of that he would decide to treat me, and, on this occasion, practically anyone present, with hostility, and so - he got arrested.

Thursday, November 4

The put-off slight home exhibition, of the iPigeon.institute art effects and fragrance-making collection: the stand-off days.

 Days and night, on end. 

No regard, whatsoever, for typical formalities, I’m becoming aware of, of the casual “village idiot” for the crumbs and knickknacks offer of playing around in my closet; this notion-deprecation had instilled itself as permeably “aught could be” more respectable, of a generalized notion, in that the general public might also appreciate patronizing the art collection and collected documents and transcripts of the early days of establishment of my iPigeon.institute pigeon-feeding enterprise, of a story based upon a travails anecdote of a guy who “made it work” in Los Angeles, through dedicating time to taking care of others (the pigeons), while making his (or her) way out of homelessness, and the pitfalls and shortcomings incurred, in establishing sociable currency and relevance, amongst the common people, and their good graces, in the land of fables, of greater Los Angeles, turn of the 3rd millennium. 

Yesterday ended up being a strange standoff kind of day, where I was stuck on pwsshh… fwipp - smashhhhing people with the iPad Pro, busy with it sort of thing that I’d established, while the stranger next door was completely keeping to himself, sort of thing, although I must say, of on pissless shift he must have been pulling, of some sort. There was this notion of a constant threat, of my room’s security being defiled, on consequence of enforcing an of on pissless - the identity and embodiment, thereof - the guy. It’s typically mostly always a guy, except that the bwipsies eccentric girl had murmured some unintelligible notions, of that she finds herself cute, and then - some other stuff, of an intimation of that there’s something that needs to be done out somewhere else, such as at some place that I couldn’t really hear her say, as her defining traits. I figured that she just can’t compose herself as formatively congenial enough, of an impetuous sub-superficial need to be shameless and un-humble towards me; I figure it’s because she’s discovered things about me online, and she doesn’t care to admit it. She’s never give, me her name. She’s kind of borderline like that, and she was framed, towards me, recently, of that she had shown up to play with my fragrance ingredients collections, as the village idiot, for the crumbs and knickknacks notion that I had flouted, although these people constantly flout the rules as dismissible, of that there be some tacit agreement and supervision involved in the village idiot indulging themselves around aerosol-industry sort of slight manufacturing environment, that it is. 

Could they possibly seem just simply better, for skirting the premise of speaking to me about it, whatsoever, for … I dunno. I just see worse of them, and for that matter, it’s not everyone who appears to have been framed in this particular manner, leverages upon this fragrance ingredients thing. It implies  a gross notion of childishness and entitlement, and worser things tend to come snowballing out of that establishment, quite easily.

Sweating it out, after having been a stark schizotypal paranoid one, in a mid-day’s hot water and medicinal oils-infused bath tub.


Saturday, October 30

Virtual 13th Step 12 Steps Meeting: The Search for Ether Absolute.

 It’s a challenge; discovering life as a circumcised individual, in sobriety contexts. 

On one hand, I didn’t even know that I was circumcised, to begin with. A former friend queried me, one day, during my early teenage years, and he popped the question upon me. I probably said something like, “huh? Oh, well, umm… yeah, it’s like… uh, that, I guess.” He replied, “that’s sick!” For my foreign countries readers, in the last appearance of a society’s generation (this was the time of Generation X; now we are in the Millennial Generation, I would suppose), saying “that’s sick!” could be tantamount to “that’s so awesome | cool!” or it may just be a ruse to implicate analytical sarcasm and disinformation, upon the recipient. The guy has a “sickening” habit of speaking disingenuously, and callously. We’re no longer friends, because he ignores responding to things that I ask him, whereas he seemed to be significantly engaged in torturing my loved ones, as well as myself; as if I could possibly be dumber than he is, in simple remote-sensing perceptions. 

Once, I got talked in to (in my head) sending the guy a photo of me, with my pants down. Nowadays, I have an xvideos quick take on myself, contextually xvideos… <_<, and anyone is free to discover that stuff. From then until now, I had, (or would) hardly conjure up, in my mind, just as I had been, as a youth, as an adolescent - I’d been unaware of this “difference” about me. I’d been flashed pee-pees of other guys, and they were “different,” too, but different from me, (I only really saw one of them, the other was inside of pool water, and the guy tried to make a deal of that we both do it, together, but I wasn’t really in to it, because I was taught not to do that sort of thing). What had become of some of these guys? A Dick Big Now? out of them, or something? Back then, a Dick Bigg would have been the ultimate. Nowadays, given some years in to adulthood, and some private time, left alone, who could claim that they hadn’t indulged all sorts of sexual fetishization amusement and erotic moments, based upon seedy-seeming niches? - whereas the Dick Bigs were a youthful transgression, and imperative demand, upon a future lover, of that their dick big now status would consummate of that they were over, and not possibly made of a little dickie fetishization, of their “still” pornography-indulgent minds - that’s what I figure: a dick bigg now kind of guy couldn’t possibly, over a large average of individuals, comparatively, be all that much better off, in abstaining from temptation, given certain circumstances, such as having no partner, incurring internalized criticism, rebuke, and humiliation, at the hands of peers or authorities, or, even within the structure of a heterosexual romantic relationship, of that the female leaves, while the male is still consummately a drug addict, and abuser, and he, in turn, in moments such as this, would inevitably, at least sometimes, still turn to pornography, for his satiety. 

I never got a requited dick photo from these guys, in return. 

Nowadays, in dick-centric circles, a bwopp-dick faggot sort of profile gets a lot of fluff, and respite, from the participants, who imagine, and live down - vastly illegal and intoxicated sorts of mindsets about “outing” the guy with an uncircumcised penis, sort of thing, going on (goes on). The hazing, drunken groups gathering, the remote-sensing stalking, the interrogations and accusations (witch hunting), the targeting of connections to the individual (isolation and casualties), the threats of public strangers, who show up to target the individual (gang stalking), and the disavowal and threatening of victims of the opposite sex (human trafficking, sexism, and bullying) - all of these things, and even at that, perhaps it’s not all and everything said, on the matter. It’s upsetting stuff, at issue, here, and the depravities are stacked one upon the other, quite richly. The guys establish an entire lifestyle basis of a claim, in superiority, of that, and this; this and that, and they decide, collectively, amongst themselves, that their claims, demands, and all-extents considerable - courses of action, are justified, of an un-Christian decree, and basis, whereas they had done themselves a dick bigg, through hormonal and supplemental augmentation. I had not known about any such stuff, whatsoever, until I became schizophrenic at age 30, and the angry confessions, after years of having been veiled, under abuses that I burdened, and at some point, I became aware of the fact that these individuals really are - at least, in some, or many instances, conceivably, and believably - certainly doing these things to me; to my figurative and imaginary self. They found themselves a sort of no rebuke to be seen, nor consequence. 

Sometimes, these players, in life, circle themselves amongst the psychiatric community, or the local fire station, and they demand the material resources of anesthesia, or some sort of carbon monoxide concentrate; as a perfumer, such concentration and specialty is otherwise known as an absolute: in this case, it would colloquially be known as ether absolute, from an etymology bearing upon Johnny Depp and Guillermo Del Toro, in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, based on the writings of Hunter S. Thompson. Sometimes, in a downwind position, in life, an ether faucet would be unfurled, or some sort of strange, sadistic, ritualistic establishment, of strangeness, under the care of a strange-minded person (reiterative, but I could speak worser names upon people) - I’ve come to understand this sort of passive-aggressive intent unto dominance, over me, as a relegation and rebuke of the fact that I happen to have been circumcised, as a child. I simply have the mind of that I just “didn’t know” any different, and by the time I figured out that people had been abusing me over the matter, in private and collusive groups, and of a callous and calculating mind, that it were, half of a lifetime, or “most” of a lifetime, perhaps, so to speak, had passed - age 14 when I discovered that I was different, and age 30, or later, when I had begun hearing voices, and years gone on, after that, that I had discerned that this sort of penis envy issue - which is supposed to be a female’s plight, in early childhood, according to the literature, was significantly, and commonly an issue of dissent, and of attrition towards me. 

What more could I offer the people? Aside from my pornography, when I became good enough and ready to do it? Hmmpf. The demands of people for whom all of pornography is not, had not been - not been good enough for them, or that they had begun to claim that they cannot satisfy themselves - me, as simply just different, yet I scarcely receive “valid” (forensically analyzed) claims, of merit, of that women are displeased with my manner and attitudes, as well as my behavior, potentially being at issue. I figure that the ones who do complain, had been taken in, by the men, of the abusive clarion call decree, in society, and they act out, in a Stockholm Syndrome manner, within this context at issue. 

I’m not sure what else to say. Sometimes the words simply fail to have any meaning, and people enter in to abusive and inferior types of relationships possible, with such a person as that would do such a thing to me.

Sunday, October 17

Another Downtown LA (Though Slight) Occupation and Riot - October 2021 DTLA Folklore.

 Who could deny it, for either living here or ending up here, any time over the past several weeks or so?

The evidence is present for the daytime locals and locality regulars, (such as myself) to come to understand. As pictured here, at the [… insert apartment complex name], property damage is being threatened and waged, lately, by roving waves of seemingly random, yet quite common casually psychotic individuals. It’s a burgeoning mental health crisis, out here. Much of the dissent and “acting out” is based upon some demographic crisis, of which the truth of the matter could ostensibly be difficult, even for professionals, social workers, and mental health outreach teams to effectively understand, in terms of some means of civil service being put in to effect, which could quell the ongoing drama and settle the unease of the citizens who reside here. 

Being on the ground level, out on the streets, here, myself, in particular - for being one of the dedicated bird flocks’ caretakers in the locality, as well as that I happen to patronize Skid Row drug dealers, I get, at a minimum, at least some conjectural intelligence and informed status, in regards to what seems to be going on, within the campus that precludes downtown Los Angeles. 

The mental health system is failing abuse victims, as the prevailing disposition that I’m presented with, for example. I do my best to accommodate my otherwise poor emotional support mechanism, in life, through aesthetic means, whether it be situational, environmental, artistic, and sometimes, I seek the pleasurable. Long days of persecution, of my schizotypal mind, by personas that fall by the wind, during the majority of my life - who truly is in my life, to any appreciable degree? 

My apologies, for making this a personal note, on my blog. It got neglected, of my earlier ambition to cover the greater mental health victims demographic, and I got swept in to a several-hours long remote sensing debacle, largely of forgettable and transient things, lacking in accountability, and yet seething with sadism about it. Apparently, one person cares to see me incarcerated, rather than that I take, for myself, an amount of crystal methamphetamine that drug dealers care to allocate and provide, of my purchasing from them.

Update: 10/17/2021: As it turns out, today would perhaps stand as one in which infamy reigned over personal freedoms and the autonomous mind. I made a report, last night, to the FBI (or tried to; there was an impassable form input error message). Would that have happened to have hijacked my attention span? All in all, I made some off-color jokes last night, and people are in an uproar about this and that, still; people from my past, who harbor a distaste for me, for my penchant for honesty. Today was a day of descent, so to speak, in to the recesses of the prelimbic mind, (which happens to be under review, or subject to < rescind >, “apparently,” as far as autocorrect goes). Yikes. Watch out, there. In any case, I founded this .institute aspiration and enterprise based upon much of what an intelligence and development enterprise ought hold as sacred knowledge; things that must be kept, throughout disaster and peril. 

The disavowal of pre-limbic mind. Mind control. I’m just, at this point in time, (acutely), being offered dissent, in regards to my freedom. It appears to be a home town row and hazing of me; I can tell: the type of demographic is telling, at times. People speaking so freely, and without care, or consideration towards me, and as I’d mentioned, I’m simply largely alone, in life, at this point in time. I suppose that I’ve upset some people. Not everyone, by any means, but quite apparently - some people. 

Tuesday, August 17

I have borderline people in my head, back at home.

 People who know me, of my recent mockup self, know that I toe a contentious line about my narcissism, being that there are a couple, or so, variants of narcissism, and even at that, given "whatever," about this guy, or that, and we're all sufferers of the same ailment, to some degree; yet each of us would prefer our own brand, of things, when it comes to who's personality traits, and ideations, etc. end up being the more fruitful and attractive persona in society. 

The textbook Narcissism spectrum is a 5-step set of distinctions in depravity, or misfortune, as it were, pinioned about the topic spectre of Narcissism (to reiterate) at issue. It begins with ...

Well, I don't remember. But there's grandiosity, delusions of grandeur, borderline personality disorder, as the middle trait, then psychopathy, and lastly, paranoid schizophrenia, as the final trait that defined the narcissist, and their inevitable outcome, with the psychiatric industry. 

No? This is a poor topic, for some, or, in some regards. Yet, I constantly deal and cope with a reality of having to accommodate people who destroy any semblance of a proper relationship that had been established, whereas those moments seem to have lost importance, for the person. People had been working overtime, and at all hours, trying to offer in a therapeutic approach, to no avail. Heartbreaking attitudes, sadistic fantasies, and many various sorts of care to abuse people, from a networked and arbitrarily tangential outlook and outset, from the core identity of a single victim; finding casualties in innocent bystanders, friends, relatives, etc. 



That's all I'll say; just my input, as to acknowledge that it's still going on, on this day. 

Latest post.

Pigeon-watching hotspots to see around town #5: The USC Dumpster Pigeons.

  This flock of pigeons hadn't always lived here, which is curious, because I could trace back to days of pigeon-feeding that I'd do...

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