10733

I and the voices in my head have already been through this. Please give Mr. Johnny Depp, he that is the only person that could keep me calm when learning the truth I have not been able to figure out on my own yet, as accurate a chronology as possible of what has gone on outside of my bubble of reality for over a year already. The voices in my head already know how hard it is to lie to me. I do not shoot the messenger, but I will know if you gave him lies to tell me.

As I already said, should that he decide after finally meeting me to flirt with me in an attempt to begin a wooing process, it is his choice. I would never make him do something he did not want to do… except for possibly the whole telling-me-the-truth thing which is, after all, still his choice… but I trust my gut instinct on the whole he-would-be-honored-to-tell-me-the-truth-when-this-all-ends thing. Oh, and please also tell him that the trigger to end my sleep apnea attacks and reopen my air passages while I sleep is “10733,” pronounced “one-oh-seven-three-three.” That is, of course, just in case (and this one is making me blush) we might end up in a situation in which I might snore.

While on the subject of things that the voices in my head and I have already discussed…

This is a photo of where President Obama stayed while in Hawaii with his family for Christmas 2009:

This is a photo of the sugar cane plantation that my grandfather was born into working on in Hawaii:

Should that anybody ever have doubted that my grandfather, my Lolo Duke, who later became a merchant marine, was born on work camp five of the Makaweli Sugarcane Plantation, all anyone would have had to do is ask me how I know. I will volunteer this information for you anyway. All of my family ties to the island of Kaua’i that I know of originate in Philippine ancestors who worked the sugar cane plantations there. Just ask any of them about that. Also, his baptismal record is still on file with the Catholic church in Lihue… if I got the right city name for the oldest Catholic church on the island.

I wonder sometimes if I have overcome the slave culture into which my grandfather was born. If for any reason right now I am laboring for anything in this world through any skills that I have and someone else is making all of the money off of it… or, dare I say, taking the credit for any social reforms and accepting a Nobel Peace Prize due to them… then I would be a slave, wouldn’t I? As is the tradition in this country with female slaves, I am even a rape victim. I saw that President Obama enjoys posing next to paintings and statues of Lincoln. Is it for the irony?

And still on the topic of things I have already discussed at length with the voices pumped into my head, please tell the government that when they run out of new and exciting ways to make a big mess even bigger and messier and even run out of lies to tell, as if a tangled web could fix anything, that they should tell Mr. Johnny Depp where I am. I am, after all, the one with the GPS tracker (among other capabilities in that metal object) in her septum. Did they not know I am the one who has lived in this body all of her life? Yes, I would eventually notice what unnatural things people have been doing to my body against my will, especially if such atrocities were repeated and repeated and repeated…

Quick question just before I go: I read that Middle Eastern nations are nuclear capable, but did they build the missiles, silos, and what not to go with it, yet? Oh, wait, I asked the voices in my head about that one already. They told me the missiles are in the same places as all of the aircraft carriers were when Pearl Harbor was bombed. Huh, I suppose my final question is, how many times has President Obama had a photo op in a fuzzy red sweater while surrounded by children since June?

Thanks for reading. It is comforting, though, to know I still do not have to lie… but I would like all of my basic and Constitutional human rights back at some point.