Another Day in this Stinkhole

I try to stay as positive as possible, but I just spent another day in the bubble that persecutes me. I am always amazed at how mean people can be.

There is no way that Iowa does not know who I actually am in this world.

On the wall in Cafe Diem, there hangs a print of the same Van Gogh painting that is on the cover of my famous creative writing journal. I noticed it when I came to Iowa in December 2010. I know they know there who I really am and what I really do in this great world.

Today, the barista (one who once roofied me) chose to be an idiot instead of doing anything compassionate. She made a show of asking me if I what I do all day is study at the local community college. She knows who I am. She knows what I actually do all day.

They only comply with Obama the Asshole in order to hurt me. I am very sensitive to people's intentions. That is only one minor example.

Please, my beautiful world, send help... and set me free.

On the upside, my parents were out of the house for a prolonged period of time today... at the same time. This gave me enough privacy to get a little dancing done. Oh, I miss that spiritual freedom, but I hate prying eyes.

Sweetness, I will probably live until I am 137 and will pass away before you do. After all, I have had a very hard life. 137 + 14 = 151 You will be the Bacardi age when I go. There is only one thing in this world I will ever forbid you from. You are not allowed to throw yourself on my funeral pyre. I cannot die after you do; I would never survive the heartbreak. With all my heart and soul...