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There is a homeless man named Raymond. I ran into him yesterday as well as today. Other people would write him off as crazy, but I know better.

In fact, he said something chilling yesterday: that aliens talk to him. If I hadn’t experienced the kind of year I’ve had, I would make the mistake of using the C word myself. (Crazy.)

What kind of year is that, Sansara???

The kind where I beg God to destroy all humans and I’m told the spaceling destroyers have been dispatched for Gaia already and then I beg to be the first to die.

Smirk. Go on. Do it. I would be Raymond without my parents. I would be homeless or dead.

I’m taking him dinner tomorrow. We will be good friends, especially once he lets go of the poison shoved into his brain via telepathy. He’s had it so long without guidance that his brain is corrupted from it. My own brain threatens corruption time and again.

That’s when God reels me back in.

If Raymond could hear God, it would be to his benefit. God is such a positive force in my life. I’ve beaten myself in the head in frustration many times. It gets overwhelming!

I don’t think it’s going to help Raymond to tell him it’s telepathy with ninnies who are insane. I swear 80% of all humans have at least some markers for mental illness.

For instance, there are three men in my head who can’t stand the idea of me being happy with someone else amd they twist me up in knots. Forget that Raymond is the only random person to hold a ‘real’ conversation with me all year.

I decided to imagine a pool of healing as ‘caustic’ as highly concentrated acid to throw said men into. I think it works, but not as effectively as I desire.

Anyway, Raymond hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a long time, so I am making him mac&cheese, some vegetables, and I found some sugar free Jello nobody wants. I know we have endless amounts of mac&cheese and stuffing, so I will feed him as often as I can.

I am hoping if I just listen to him, he’ll start feeling better. I did reiki heal him a little, but healing burns calories so he needs to be fed and hydrated. I will be taking him water, as well.

Of course, the whole time I was gettomg ready to go to the pier, the shitheads in my head kept trying to figure out who might see me there. Some phantom admirer to sweep me off my feet. As if!

I weigh too much for that.

Well, maybe that’s not expressly true. I know some men can bench press twice that. Good for them. Don’t touch me! <hiss>

I am sick and tired of the “let’s impress random boys” game, so I am going to create a dating platform. Screw this in person crap. After a year of “putting myself out there,” I’ve gotten two whole compliments.

I’m not the kind of girl that stops traffic because someone wants my phone number. (I learned to stop wearing makeup and sexy as hell clothes because that made me uncomfortable.) I mean… he could have pulled over and taken ten minutes to talk to me like a human being. Maybe I’m asking too much, requiring a modicum of decency.

God, I hope not.

What is wrong with this world? Why do I have to look like a whore to be flirted with? Do you men have even one clue how shitty that is? Maybe we’d be better off putting courtship on the woman instead.

I wonder what kind of nonsense pickup lines ladies will make up? I know my brother got one once: “nice boots… wanna fuck?”

Short and to the point.

Notice she didn’t compliment his body, but his taste/ self expression?

Learn. Now.

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