…5% tint so you can’t see up in my window…la la la…

Dear Doc,

I don’t feel so good today. Well, this evening…I’ve been crying all day. I just can’t figure out how to forgive Bennie. So much went on and it’s like this landslide just starts pushing me down, sometimes. I know he wasn’t the start of my pain, but he was the end of it. The bitter endless.

I’m getting my environment how I like it. Maybe that’s what all this is about. The house is starting to look like MY house…the way our home looked before Bennie stopped loving me. I’m so pissed at him for talking to that bitch, Jenny, right before he died. I mean RIGHT before! Why did he do that? Telling her he couldn’t leave me because he didn’t want me to have one square inch of this land? OMG! After thirty years, I asked for one acre to put a fucking trailer on. A TRAILER. I’m just starting to get these lil flashbacks that make what Jenny said to me after he died make sense. That bitch. I wish I could talk to her ass now, but she’s got me blocked nine ways to Sunday. Jay cleaned up his dad’s phone before I saw it, so there’s no telling what was on it that I didn’t see. I guess all this fucking nesting is opening old wounds. I don’t know. But I love it. My lil living room is so chill. It’s mismatched, but it matches, you know? Like me. I hope that taking this action will shake something loose.

Listening to Fat Pat. I love the SUC. It’s a shame what happened to most of em. Ok…starting to ramble. Im working on that lately. I just constantly talk, I don’t know why, since I have nothing to say.

Oh, shit…this dude pulled up in our yard a few minutes ago, and I called my son because I thought it might be him, coming or going. Anyway, it wasn’t my son, just a man looking for an adress. He asked if he could use our phone and Jay told him ‘No.’ I feel terrible. This is a very dark and scary place to be lost, but you can’t take chances these days. I’m sure that he wasn’t happy to encounter a big ass redneck. But, he seemed very nice. So did Ted Bundy. My son, unlike me, is not willing to bet on the kindness of strangers. I understand why, though. It just pisses me off that this society has finally made us into the kind of people who won’t lend a stranger a phone to make a call.

I guess I need to meditate. I haven’t even tried the EMDR, or whatever that thing is. I can’t think of any positive affirmations. I thought I’d write a hypno script for myself. I used to write them for men with erectile dysfunction and I was very good at it. Yes, I even got good feedback. I stopped all of that when Memnoch came for me. That crazy bastard. I wish I hadn’t wasted four years on ‘winning’ his stupid game. Whatever. Shit. I’m just discombobulated this evening.

I guess I’ll go. I have some things I’d like to finish before bed. I’m very happy about my home. I guess they’d call it boho…the style. But, miss matched has always been my style. Things that look too perfect scare the shit outta me.

Peace out, Doc!

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