A Knife At My Throat, Book One thru Five Character Book
by Elizabeth Vitale
Everyone expects me to be this tame mouse never to speak, not to think and forget to be alive. I
figure the best surprise I can find in answer is to win my own life for myself in a way isn't as another. Sure, I came
in second when I ran track in school. So, I come in last with my story to tell. Last has a few good qualities.
I know we all sacrifice something in our experiences of time on earth. Horrible, unbelievable, disgusting behavior occurs
daily. To fall into as the prey is commendable with a great reward of lesson. To survive is even more of an honor
of medal to earn. Eternity is still well in awareness of love.
my eulogy is over for now. My points of interest are personal. I understand. My enjoyment doesn't care what anyone
thinks of my reasons to be the last laugh on those big guys who always push me around. The little ladies to stand taller
than I get to lose some pride when I finally reach my destination for tonight. Tomorrow isn't over
I had to rest for a moment, catch my breath, find the
week ahead of me for this lady to survive. I don't live an easy free given pleasure. I fight through memories seem
to think to rule me. Some of those memories even feel to walk for me right back into the memory. Once you read this
book you will notice what my meaning is to explain nothing frightens me anymore.
I had a mother
who chased me out of the house with a knife, locked the door to make me sit outside in the cold with shorts on and no shoes
until my father came home and blamed why on me. In her mind she did nothing wrong. To sleep in my house was safer
with a spider in the bed I could throw at her. Not only the spider, but the mean garden snake I found in the garden I
didn't know was once my grandfather's garden should tell enough how she should have found the snake in her bed. If this
doesn't open my door to you as a reader for intrigue follow me a little further down my history.
Out of order of events never the less true is all I am haunted with. Like
the times I was ready to go to school on picture day never allowed. There was plenty of money to pay for pictures. My
mother was supposedly sick. I think that was a lame excuse for deliberate hatred toward me from the day I was born of
only to hear how unwanted I was. Why should I talk to anyone? No one talks to me. I don't wonder why I act as I
do. I never wondered why I acted as I did. I was forced into a world of disbelief in a shock I still haven't gotten over.
I probably never will.
allowed to go to dances. Never allowed to have parties. Never allowed to talk on the phone to friends. I was
so thrown into my own bedroom wall, made to sit alone to eat dinner when my family ate at the table together and to add I
near had to beg to sleep outside on the porch of my family house to gain safety for myself. I did sit at the Sunday table
of gold in prayer. I think was probably because I cleaned up after the family value of face time forced together by my father.
My sorrow goes out to anyone who has endured the alone as I have. This is a true miracle I write with an energy
of hope I would find even one relative .who cares now. I never found one to care then.
guess the bicycle I got to ride when a child was a luxury in my mother's eyes. I wasn't supposed to enjoy a ride down
the street into a brick wall of a house. I had my training wheels on. Children have to have games, the yellow
rubber duck for the bath, outdoor fun, super robots, cutie toys, catch worms, dig ditches in the yard, jump in puddles of
rain water, flip baseball cards, shoot marbles, play jacks, jump rope, hoolah hoop, hopscotch, roller skate,
ice skate, go to amusement parks and sled ride down snow covered hills with cats and dogs in the yard. In my
years of growing a girl had to have the sailor girl outfit too. Kids have to walk far for a tomato out of a home grown garden,
chew on weeds and eat grass no care to the flavor. I chased birds, collected robin eggs and the nest, played in the woods
and liked to walk along the river. Rabbits were a lot of fun to try to play with. They are fast. I don't know
I would want my daughter playing with the raccoons as I did. I played with porcupines. I do agree I shouldn't have brought
bugs in the house. The rats to jump out of the stove at breakfast were enough to deal with. I was a country child.
About the clothing for school when I was in junior high and high school I would have never worn if not for my father who was
a good man as possible under the daily stress of support for a family. At least, he chose to see me through as a father should
regardless of the fights and bible in the house. My older brothers seemed to be fine.
Don't get me wrong. At my age, I do have a few good times to mull
over in my always out here on my own with no home to call my own. My mother didn't want me happy. Her determination
worked. I would be surprised if she didn't make me eat my own shit as a baby. Call me callous if you please. I
am. I have so many bruises it's hard not to create a new bruise. Why can't I be happy? I live in a syndrome
unable to break the curse she laid on me. Every day of my life I was humiliated in front of family, neighbors, strangers
and to any friends I tried to have. If you want me to forgive, forget and beg for forgiveness stop reading my book.
Taking out the trash for a quarter, walking a mile in the snow to get milk in reward with candy, delivering papers
freezing my ass off just to have a bit of peanuts in my pocket amazes me I didn't run away before the age of thirteen. Sure,
if I stole a watch to tell time because I couldn't have a watch was wrong, I get it. I stole my first wallet because
I was never given money. My father's change purse was always missing quarters. I am surprised he had money for the bus
to go to work. My first pair of glasses were stolen because I wasn't believed I needed glasses. Second grade was
more fun with the rags I was made to wear to school from my mother. She probably would have sent me naked if allowed. When
I wanted to go to a friend's pool party I had to run away. Figure this. If my mother was so unhappy why didn't she
leave before she ruined my life. She had another child after me who was wanted. My father made me return everything
I would take. He finally realized I needed attention. What took him so long? I did outgrow my behaviors in
my early adult years. See how long it takes to wake from not allowed to have a car, not allowed to go to college, not
allowed a guitar and not allowed to live my own life. Forty five records were fun though.
I am not
a jealous person. I am more hurt I wasn't wanted or loved by my own mother. Believe it or not a Christmas tree every
year with a stocking, the robe, underwear, socks and games never made me smile. The present exchanges we had were so
boring. I was intelligent. I deserved to be held, kissed and touched by a mother who loved me. I always wanted
to live in another house. The two weeks every summer I couldn't wait to get to my aunt's house for vacation was one escape. The
other, my friend's playhouse with running water and a stove. I would have been better off without a television. Soap
operas still appear to be the number one attention device in house normal on the kids without anywhere to go. Cartoons
were fun and some of the shows to get out and survive in the real world. Sickness, violence, drugs and sex
are the best devices for attention. Maybe, my mother got her temper from the tube. I heard my aunt treated her bad. I
was the house maid too. A good lesson for those cleaning needs, but I was the rug she beat on with her angered states
to the chest, my only baby doll with the head torn off and thrown out the window, my bedroom where I was supposed to be happy
as a child I tried to burn down and the room in the basement I wanted to do my homework in I was never allowed only adds to
more misery to remember. So what if it was cold. I can't accept logic was used in my house except to stop me from
anything I tried to do. Laughed at for trying out to be a cheerleader, stopped from my studies to get good grades worked,
crying to go to brownie meetings and lost within my only place called home was unacceptable. I was going to go back
a grade in school to be with my best neighbor friend from childhood, but this didn't seem a smart decision. My grandparents
were gone. My poor father died at fifty four years old. If my mother could have she would have killed me too. I
tried to leave this planet. I haven't made it yet.
can't use a knife to make dinner. I have cut myself accidentally I call as a memory. I rarely use a knife to eat
dinner. If you don't find why from the past three chapters you probably shouldn't be in my story. If you can't find
how then I relate a knife at my throat with a six foot guy on top of me ready to blow up an apartment who I kicked off to
save my daughter you truly don't need to read on. As a girl took my daughter into the bedroom I just couldn't see harm
to her. The complete story is better for a movie. To kick out a glass window was not easy with my child in my arms
to save. Relate this to how many times do you think I traveled city after city on buses and in cars with nowhere to go explains
itself. And, don't give me the give my life up for god plane of peace. No one should have to give their lives up
for anyone. Don't ask how many times that line has been thrown at me too. This is my story. I will write what
I will live on earth with some of my mental
blocks forever. To change who I am isn't the answer. Those links in a chain only last so long before they either
have to be replaced or break without replacement. If only room after room of anywhere but home would go away. I
hide in my car as I did in the playhouse. Only difference my father isn't calling me to come home. I did enjoy chasing
skunks. One time I had to remove all of my clothing outside to be burned and then I was given a bath. Let me remind
you not by my mother. My father gave me my baths when young. I was left to be dirty, teeth not brushed and
only my mother knows what else when I was growing up. My mother and father would fight over me having a birthday cake. I
don't think I ever got a birthday card from my mother. My father was the peace keeper. I was being spoiled with a birthday
cake. My mother was grilling hamburgers for a birthday party my father forced her to have for me. She quit and sent
everyone home. Recently my best friend reminded me how my mother pulled me by the hair. She would hit me with
the mirror and hair brush. I got lice a lot. If the doctor didn't live close, come to the house, I probably would
never have seen one. The bee hive in the shed I ran into when I played hide and seek was mild compared to how
my mother treated me. I played with hail in hail storms. I sat under trees during lightening. Anything was safer than
my mother. Tornados were fun. I got to escape into the hole in the ground shelter. My father had to call me to come out
of there too.I
I don't sit around feeling sorry for myself. I think of how I was
bitten by the neighbor's dog then had to have tetnus shots. Not even a tear for me came from my mother. Later in
life I was bitten again. Fortunately, I am well trained now in defense. I survived with minor long term nerve damage.
About the same amount of damage to my mind as my mother gave. If this isn't a continuation as fear in running through
a glass door at the sound of a foot stomp I don't know another way to rationalize how a windshield breaks in near the same
place in near the same time within a year. Have you ever heard bumps in the night? If not then you don't belong
in this story. I got the measles. Guess who took care of me? My father and my doctor. If birds and bees don't
live in a house together there isn't a home. If history doesn't repeat itself we are all living in an unreal experience.
I did get to be a girl scout. I was a majorette. I think my mother finally left by now. My mother said
I sent her away. I don't know what kid wouldn't. She left on her own with everything my father bought her when she
maxed out his credit card and left him for broke. He survived. She took all of the videos and pictures from my youth. My
father was good about family memories. I near destroyed everything I learned and owned. I near destroy all now.
I have to work through a negative was determined to drive me down. I don't venture into any successful thought without
defeat. If you had a mother's love you couldn't relate to me. Was this also her intent to be sure I would never
relate to anyone with love? If you don't sleep well you can talk with me. If you sleep like a baby you were loved. I
Tonight is a calm night. I am wondering where and when I will sleep. My phone is near out
of charge. I am tired of the line it could be worse. How about it could be better? I have come close to great
wealth many times. Has my mother destroyed me so much I will never move beyond her? Some people say very possible. Others
not so, only none of these people lived my life. I am told be thankful for what I have. I give my thanks daily.
Books bore me. Music bores me. Movies bore me. Science bores me. I already know the universe. My father always
said I was too smart for my own pants. Cave men saw airplanes. Advanced mathematics has existed longer than computed. My
mother probably was inferior or scared because I knew life was on other planets. Logic is an easy ponder of thought when
used right. I know politics is corruption. Religion is often corrupt. Doesn't matter, politics and religion
bore me. I collected one hundred twelve bibles in my travels never to read one. I did study the bible once or twice
in my life. Religion still bores me. I know keeping the dollar isn't easy these days. I don't think it's ever been
easy. To retire is to join the one form of security made for all not all receive. One job always bored me. The
military bored me. I even bore me with all of my writings. My mother often bored me. Was a skylight made
I was a girl left hopeless without a mother's love. My feeling was helplessness. I
never believed I was guilty of any wrong toward my mother. After my father died I went to my mother's house to see if
she needed anything. She was just as cold to me as when I was a child. I saw the videos and picture albums under the
television. Late at night I was going to take these, but I was afraid she would catch me then have me arrested. I am
told now they are all lost along the way of her life. How could she lose my memories along the way of her life? She
has dementia now. She is free of the way she treated me. I live with the memories always. I can't feel sorry for her. I don't think I ever had a brother's love or a sister's love. Was more a forced live
The lucky rabbit's foot I carry reminds me of my father. He tried
to marry me to the guy I never would have thought to marry. This would have been lucky for my father to get me out of
the house. I went on one date not of my choice. I knew I wouldn't be happy when I got older in the small town I was raised
or where I was born. I had to travel. There was more beyond my country road. After all of my experiences, though
I often wouldn't mind going back home for the security of a roof over my head. I did a google map search. I spoke with old
neighbors. Most of all the railroad tracks with the train horn going by is no longer there. My
father worked on the railroad. I always wanted him to be an engineer so he could take me on the train with him. The
fireflys still come out in the summer nights. I can't imagine a change of residence only for fire flies. Although,
would be fun to chase and put in a jar by my bed for a night light. In my memories I often do lay
on my bed in the house I was raised. Is very interesting as I watch all of my memories pass by.
If I write
anymore about my disturbing childhood I will not eat for days and still gain weight. Do I eat sweets because I don't
know how to recognize sweetness in any other manner? Do I carry my mother's mental and physical characteristics
forever? I sure hope not. Do I end this short story to start another for more knives to remember at my throat or leave this
one as the end? There is so much more will never be forgotten. What road do I walk? I always said my mother
destroyed my baby years, my childhood years, my teen years and my young adult years. My adult years are over. My elder
years are coming with no change even on a try for my kind of change, a prayer and I will not settle for less as suggested
many times. I deserved much more than I received. I deserve much more now. I still try to find a picture I
know was in my yearbook. Missing pictures and my mother go hand in hand. My class ring wasn't even my birthstone. I
have so many broken memories. I don't need consolation prizes. What next knife to my throat will there be in my
A Knife At My Throat, Book Two
What stories have been told about me within the family
are untrue? I don't think I really care, but family is supposed to be familiar, blood line, brothers, sisters and closer than
friends or strangers. Appears some family is so close. My family is rediculous when it comes to no togetherness. My mother
sure did her job well to break ours apart. Or, would we be the same distant relatives who never speak? I sometimes wondered
if the milkman left me at the wrong house. I was given away in my first two weeks of life then taken back. My mother left
so many times then returned my head was always spinning. I wanted to scream either stay or go. This is crazy. Not only gossip
central lives here, a feud carried over from any number of yesterday fights still exists. Shut the "F" up so I can
study for my school test. I would sit crying in the stairway to my room with the door shut. What could I do to change this
family division? The answer was nothing. All I would receive in response is stop swearing.
There always has to be one unwanted child somewhere. I
was the chosen one. The first time I ran away I climbed out of my window on to the porch roof then jumped to the yard. I didn't
know I could do that. All of the walking and playing I did when young paid off. I walked along the country road out of my
town. I was never going back. I was lucky to get a ride with a trucker who was driving to New york. I arrived in New york
city as if I had somewhere to be. If anything this unwanted child had some fun in my life. I met a guy who took pictures of
me. I found only artists live in New york city. I met the local people with every drug imaginable. I indulged a bit. I worked
in an Italian restaurant for a day or one week. I worked at home in a restaurant as well as other towns along my travels.
I had many jobs in my life. New york city was exactly as I imagined from the Hendrix, Biaz, Beatle era. Hendrix was fun to
talk with in the park. Biaz was a bit cold. I smoked a bit of weed in the park. This didn't mean anything because the air
was coated with the aroma. I enjoyed a party at a Beatle management event. I got to meet all of the members of the band. After
my father sent airfare to return home I never got to talk with the guy again. I was so scared to even remember his name. He
would call. He even called when I was much older. My father would not give me the number. I returned when I was playing guitar.
I played in a club. I returned once to live, but the snow was not appetizing. I returned one other time. A street person reached
into the broken window of my car to take a sweater. I started to chase her then thought she must be cold. Let her go. I still
haven't spoken with the guy I met.
After my father died I bought a guitar. I did anything and everything he would not allow me to do. When he was
alive I ran away to the local college. I figured if I wasn't allowed to go to college I would go to the dorms and hang out.
There is a lot of security at the dorms, but I still found my way through. I partied with some students. Well, atleast I went
to college. I partied a lot when I lived at home. This was the life I found more pleasing than home. The cars and car wrecks
over the years from a couple volkswagon bugs to the station wagon I rolled over into a cliff and survived shows my driver's
test of pass got me pretty far. My audi blew up after I left one of the many residences I stayed. I had an old beat up blue
something or other I tried to drive to Canada. It was cold then. I was not allowed to pass through. The windshield was cracked.
I was always on the run brought on by one experience or another. I had a yellow something or other gas hog I drove for a while.
This one was hit in the rear. I was headed for the overpass cement wall when another car came along to push me into the median
lane. The next car wreck was another rear end. I stressed the steering wheel so I wouldn't hit a pedestrian. The car behind
me was coming very fast. She would have died. I went through therapy for many months. I was told the stress and slam on my
breaks hurt me. I took the pain. I am prone to minor dings and pings aren't my fault. A few cars have been passed along without
damage. Where would I have been had I a mother who cared about me? Where would I be now?
I do want to mention to anyone who reads of my old
days. If you use an idea or experience to make some money would you please share. I struggle to survive. After all these are
my old days not yours.
On my swing outside, rocking horse, tree climbs, creek behind with fresh water, walks
through fields to get mail and to the local tavern to get my father this was my turn to call my father home. Dinner had to
be made. I always had a soda and chips at the tavern. I never knew these were bad for my health. I was allowed to sit at the
table once my mother left. I was allowed to live some normal life. I enjoyed doing the dishes. We had the old tin cabinets
with those old unmatched dishes. The matched set was for Sunday and holidays. The kitchen sink was always stained. I had to
clean that. I cleaned the dining room furniture too. I cleaned the whole house always. The glasses didn't match either come
to think of it. Nothing matched in this house. The saucers were cracked and chipped. If the dishes, cups and saucers matched
for regular meals would there have been more harmony in the house? Would I have grown different? After my continual request
for dish and glass sets as well as silverware sets we received what I thought everyone should have in a house. There was always
food on the table, hot water and beds with pillows. I cleaned all of those too. I did my own laundry at a very young age.
My mother refused to do it for me. She would do her own, my brother's, sister's and father's laundry. After my mother left
I did all of the laundry. Did anyone in my family realize everything my father bought for the house was at my request? He
didn't see the need unless I pointed the need to him. Of course no one said thank you for helping dad experience more love
and growth. Only dad said that.
We didn't have a chair in our house living room. I won a chair at a raffle in my town. Remember,
when my mother left the final time my father had a lot of bills to pay. I used to tell my mother to shut up. She was so lost
in her own world and wouldn't come out for anyone in our family. I tried to get her to get her license, get out more and be
involved in my life. Forget that memory ever getting me anywhere. My father finally did get caught up then bought new furniture,
added carpet to the wood floors I used to always polish, painted the walls I always cleaned and added sliding glass windows.
To me were these really sliding glass windows? I cleaned those too. Even when I lived three hundred miles away I would drive
home to clean the house for my father. Regardless of the strange way he raised me, he was a good father. I did appreciate
my father through his life. I was his daddy's girl. My father must have thought there was more going on than just friends
with the guy from New york city. I see now if my father didn't rule my life he would lose me. I can also see why he wouldn't
let me have a dog or a garden. A dog and a garden can be a lot of work. Outdoor cats were ok.
How I fit into the world is difficult especially in California. At home I
wouldn't even try to live there now. So many people here are about being a star in the music, movie or television business.
I am short, a bit over sized, not really talented, my vocal tunes a bit off, guitar time now bored with and I was unwanted.
I am older and I am unwanted. I have to let everyone go before me. Unless I sat in on a Jay Leno show with stars on my back,
walked down Hollywood boulevard to remember my life there, loved Elton John to play a fan of his on a televison contest show
once, was that ghost writer many times, my only other fun is my writing. I met many famous people in Hollywood. What more
would I want to do? To hit the lottery is an ultimate goal. Win a house to live a normal life would be nice. Should I just
take to the highways again to see how far I would get or just expect no more than what I have and who I am now? Do the new
owners of my pug know they adopted a famous writer's child? Miss Anotoinette Puggy made it to Hollywood too. I now have Fia.
I am always giving away. I never figure how to keep. What is the reason for this way my mind works? Is this my mother again
reminding me of my no worth in her example of how she raised me to believe?
I see in
paper. If I don't see in paper I have nothing to write on. How about the gift of money? How do I see in the gift of money?
I would be much happier. I am not rooted. Why did my mother remove my roots? Pine trees seem more exciting than where I came
from. Pine trees are rooted. I've traveled many places to get away from the continual life of nowhere to be never to find
anywhere I wanted to be. Because of my mother my growth was halted in many ways. Because of my father I spent more time with
people had no care to my life than the ones may have. I know my father had a hard life. So did my mother. This is no reason
to lay a hard life on any child. I've lived in many apartments, rooms and houses to combine into a few mansions. The hotel
rooms are many as well. I carry too many memories to collect myself into one memory I may enjoy living within. Two places
at once isn't difficult anymore. There is a real connection to how yesterday can affect today. Everyone knows this. To make
ultimate sacrifices never to receive ultimate sacrifices seems wrong. My father told me on earth right is wrong and wrong
is right. He was absolutely right. Sure, I have published over six thousand various writings of my awake hours. I have many
more I never published. No one helped me change my life even when I cried out to be heard. My mother would probably laugh
in my face as always. My father would probably read my writings. My brothers don't answer their phones. My sister ignores
me though I saved her ass once. My relatives are don't exist for my needs. This isn't bad. They just aren't near.
Of course I have suppressed memories. Sometimes I can barely
handle the ones I remember. I've been near everywhere. I've met near every character of person in existence anywhere. I always
figured if I couldn't go home keep learning something new. Shut your eyes and don't read my book if you don't like my attitude
toward any variation of excuse used for one person to have thousands of homes and another not to have one. I was stupid once.
I threw a chip diamond white gold engagement ring in a lake or river. I should have sold it. Some of my memories are vague
because I have other losses more important to concentrate on. One such loss is my life. Does my family deliberately continue
the division for a real reason or just to laugh under the breath of their successful manners? I am truly let down to be so
unwanted. I did nothing as anyone could have ever done anything to be so cheated of a comfort with family. I am not revengeful.
I do hope they get theirs one day in return for the nastiness handed down to me. They probably will or not. I won't be around
to console them. If my father was alive I would tell him he did his best and still clean the house for him. If my mother didn't
have dementia and I spoke with her I wouldn't speak with her. A knife at my throat still rules me. I may continue into book
three or just leave book two as the end. Most of my other memories are normal to many other people. These still have bothersome
attributes to add to the beginning of a no care mother syndrome.
A Knife At My Throat, Book Three
I was born with a scoliosis in my back. I asked for a brace when young. I would have the chance to straighten
my back. I was never allowed a brace. I had problems from this when young. I was always accused I wasn't trying or didn't
want to do certain chores. I have several problems now. I can't exercise as most people can. I do my best to enjoy the best
life for my health situation. The inconvenience is a great hindrance. I inherited my mother's toe deformity. Parents didn't
speak much of health genetics when I was young. If I tried to get info I was not privy to the details. I was always told wait
until you get older. I was like why must I wait until I am older to learn of my possible health issues now? I never understood
most of the decisions in my house. My father was still an admirable man. Tossed back and forth between parents was no fun.
Why couldn't we have a normal family talk time? I was always in the bath too long. I tried to explain my back needs care.
Just get out of the tub. I can't help but laugh at a lot of my memories. I know my parents had their own childhood issues.
We all did. Don't take one issue and pass it along. Change the example. Do something better in the present situation. I did
survive. Only, I live in a lot of pain could have been altered over just one brace. Cystic problems in my skin is also a challenge.
I rest a lot more than I would like.
I took the bus to school. I had to wait at the bottom of the street. There was a shed for rain days. I hated
taking the bus to school. As I was left to raise myself I thought I should have a different life. My father would wake me
every morning before he left for work. I hated this too. I was so on my own to make decisions a girl should never have to
make alone. Had I never known a mother of any time could be a different memory would have encompassed my mind. She really
hated me. When I began to miss my father after his death I replaced what he bought me. Perfumes, certain jewelry pieces and
other fun times I had. My mother never bought me perfume or the rest of anything. If I asked to try some of hers I had to
fight for her to say yes. She had a serious fit any time my father got me something. Bats used to fly out of our house. I
thought maybe my mother got bitten by a bat and never said anything. This was why she acted as she did. I always tried to
find some good reason for her temperment. Could be the drinking she did was the cause. I was just unwanted I had to remind
myself. The jukebox and pool table were my special time away from my learned reality. I tried to be friends with her by licking
the icing bowl. I said mother you are a good cook. Nothing worked. She still would scream at me. How can a mother scream at
a daughter who offers to do the dishes? How can a mother not want to share anything with her daughter? What is the purpose
of a mother for then? Find a new birth system. My father should have driven me to school. I may have felt more loved. He finally
bought a little ford was breaking all of the time. My choices may be from two parents as not good choice makers.
As I sit at my computer to index all of my pages of writings, I think in this
present time I will advertise in a few weeks. I have a few readers around the world. I have a few in the United States. With
all of the tragic events going on around me I don't remember life being so bad for people. But, I never had life so good.
Sure, I am clothed, fed and with shoes on my feet. I guess the rest of my existence to satisfy doesn't mean anything. I am
adding print, changing font colors, trying to complete today (never seems to be complete) and edit for mistakes. I figure
if I receive an A now in the general acceptance level of my writings I can find the plus sign later. I do find some mistakes.
I leave those for the percentage of mistakes per letter use is normal at a point zero, zero, zero, one. If it's good enough
for me I am fine. If I have to look twice for problems I get tired and want to quit. I work hard to make every writing complete
the first time. Could be mathematics wasn't used properly in my house for the final outcome of a decision. I don't think many
people spend time on final outcomes of how their children will live. What they will find isn't a priority for some unknown
specific reason. Could be the reason is no one would have children. There would be no society. This would be like the void
of darkness. What is wrong with the void of darkness?
My cubbyhole closet was my space I would plan how to escape into one day I would
leave never to return. One notebook, pen, star in the sky along with my want for my life is as real as I feel like jumping
on my bed just to make my mother scream at me. That is, if I owned a bed and if my mother was around. I wonder if she would
have been different had I gotten to scream at her always and tell her she was unwanted. There are many places I could be tonight.
Instead I wonder why I got to take baths with my best boyfriend as a baby. If I did wake from my past experiences I probably
wouldn't notice. A thought of interest came upon me. Was I early, on time or late at birth? Will a tonight ever lead me to
more than all of the tonight's known? I realize for a moment how my father used to sit on the porch after work to have his
cup of coffee. He kept the whiskey in the bottom cabinets for the other restful moments he needed. My father rolled his own
cigarettes. I can't imagine doing that. The memory of a nineteen hundred forty nine penny fell into the furnace vent reminds
me he had all of his teeth pulled. Why was this common in his time on earth? Those cigarette baseball cards were fun to collect.
Why was my time on earth not with the valuable collecting items? Who has all of those treasures? Were they mistakingly trashed
when the house was sold?
Do you have any idea how long it takes to upload over six thousand writings, do index pages, number all of the
writings, edit for mistake, title what wasn't titled and write a short story about my life on very little money to survive
for the only reason something to do I enjoy? Then I have these games I miss playing with my father. Heads and tales with the
coin was fun. Heads he won. Tales I lost. I always lost. What was hidden under the walnut shell was a game too with my father.
The typical choose which one of three had the quarter. I lost this too. I used to think he never put a quarter under any of
the shells. The closed fist of both hands to pick the one with the money was also my lose. I still think he never put a quarter
in his hand. Could be I had to rationalize why I didn't make the right choice. I don't seem to make good choices in my life
ever. Does this come from the I don't care attitude I had when young after so much negative from my mother? I think so. Drama
was so part of all of my life I run from any start of a fight, discussion makes no sense with an anger. Why do people play
such stupid games? I loved clover and dandelions. I was told to stop eating these by my father. My father didn't understand
the health advantages to good old fashioned nature. He could never understand why I preferred outdoors over indoors. If indoors
was safe for me I may have not been outdoors so much.
Granted parents have the right to disclose or not disclose information
about personal life to children. This appears to be the spice of life as a given name for memories not shared. These memories
may be welcomed regardless of the shallow or dense experience. Some people care. Some people don't. From those wonderful hours
without answers I was endowed with writing. I have a puzzle will never be complete. My father would say use a different definition
of puzzle for the outcome. He always made me think a bit further into my thought. I forgot to mention all of the puzzles with
missing pieces when I was a child. Crosswords were boring. What about help with my jaw cracking when young. How was a puzzle
A Knife At My Throat, Book Four
I can see why I am
so a confused person. Not only was a confusing way of how I was raised I find through history the name changes would have
thrown anyone when looking for relatives. My Italian heritage is the worse known for the ability to track down an uncle, aunt,
cousin, relatives never known. Why didn't relatives want to be known? I figure I am probably safer not to try to find the
answers. People didn't like their old names then changed these by a letter or two to another name. Or, were they hiding something
or from someone? I know in the late 1800s and early 1900s they left Italy for a better life from all of the district changes
and other unrest. But, 1930 and 1940 I don't understand. Sure there was war, bootleg liquor, cigarettes and other such events
in America. Most of my family members were farmers, railroad workers, coal miners, honest people with a true interest in America.
So what if cousins married cousins. They wanted to keep all they had in the family. Did the draft into military have something
to do with name changes? A lot of my family served in military. From Ellis island records, memories, naturalization and other
documents everyone seemed regular to me. The Italian mafia was always in existence. This was natural to understand. Just seems
so strange when I try to locate live relatives, pictures, stories or other data everyone doesn't know anything or doesn't
want to speak. I then run into a bit of info brings more questions. Don't shoot me. I am just a granddaughter looking to know
more about my grandfather's life and relations. The rest of my genealogy is pretty much easy to examine and forget. Could
be most were alive for a while when I was younger. My grandfather died before I was born. Why is my life so complicated?
I am not fighting
a losing battle. I am not fighting a battle at all. I trust this is my business. I came from a superb music era with a cure
for my musical experiences. If I die this moment listening to my faves then I lived what I wanted most. If I die poor I was
meant to. My family avoids me. I avoid you. So, this is how my world has been forced to turn for how long? Constructive lies
seem to have been an inheritance into all of us we all use at some time or another. Are we all running from our own lies?
Some people can really smile and lie strait into the camera. Viewers actually find admiration in this. I never caught my father
in a lie. He caught me in a few. He was blunt with his honesty was never spoken in the pretense of he would lie if he pleased.
He just didn't speak. I heard acting isn't a lie. This depends on the act. Bitterness isn't a lie. In the name of love often
is. Why do people continue to respond in the gullible form? Maybe I do ask too many questions. Reason is noone gives good
enough answers. Innocently born into evil isn't good enough for me. That story is ancient. The children believe it. They don't
know any better. Come up with a more precise explaination. If you are only looking up from earth again you are missing all
is around you. Start looking down to earth. The meaning is all of you stop the flipping bull shit on this planet. Some of
us are not stupid and we do not buy the garbage spoken. Why does someone have to do something? Why doesn't someone just do
I always seem to take the difficult way everywhere I go. I drive an extra mile when not needed. More money in
my pocket means I can buy more gas. Who the hell made my mind? I make typo mistakes seem deliberate from within my existence
to keep me from my own life. For this moment I am thinking what was I doing and where was I going when this bit of info came
through to write of. I once had a thought intelligience isn't hard if I use my mind. What is so intelligent about my life?
Just because I write, seem a bit more free than others, tied down a touch more, have some kind of talent, am older doesn't
mean anything good. If anything I have life harder from being so isolated from my heritage. Who really rules direction? There
are so many theories. Does anyone really know the truth? Speculation is not the truth. Form of opinion isn't a fact either
only an option to present ideology. I feel like telling everyone shut the "F" up. Don't you people care about anything
but you. You have all of these complaints with no basis of need. I have many complaints from a very grown base of need. I
read and hear more excuses than custom has to offer. I can create something new yet someone would relate it to a cause and
effect from a base has no viable reality. Then rationalize just to appear an answer is correct. Well, when you really find
the beginning of time and the very first created evidence show me. Until then keep your records to your deemed position. I
can be just as difficult as my family was to me. Harmony is another fake perception. So what if it is the 4th of July. Every
year there is a 4th of July, nothing on the planet changes and by the way I can see fireworks near every night at Disneyland.
January 25 is a very important date. Why not celebrate the way that day comes around?
I am not a generic existence. Some people tend to treat me as
generic. Is generic an easier form to understand? Don't give me an evil little smile either. Evil is easy to expose. Why does
the internet go off at the same time every day? If I spend my time as I spend my time this is my time to use as I decide.
There is no book, no person, society with a right to determine my time use. I don't care what is deemed regular, responsive,
righteous, communal, common, determined, placard, out of the ordained and any other word formation used in any meaningful
sense. If I want to air my views on my website I will do just that. It's my circulation gets cut off from sitting at the computer
too long. I pay for my time on my belief system. I didn't write the internet shuts down on me personally. See there you go
again passing an opinion from illogical form. Then I come upon aptitude for how long? I can name many names I am happy are
not mine. How about I start with a few politicians, religious buffs and other cloaked sundrances? At least Vitale remained
the same through the years. A very strong hold for tomorrow. I am proud to be a true Vitale. How many Vitale know they are
Do you know many languages were formed by a cultural leader not as the division
of people is described? Why don't people take the time to research facts before claim to fiction? Are people afraid of the
truth? Why are people talked into submission? Is this because the leaders are in serious need for attention, power over another
and money? Whoever uses a so called truth is not true is probably the lowest of all life existence. The guilt trip is the
very essence of control. Better yet to cover the lack of knowledge from within. We all study to our individual needs. Leave
life as an individual need to learn not a force of controlled learn. For those of you who laugh at goodness I often laugh
at the show of goodness. For those of you who sincerely share goodness I still haven't found one person shares from a true
heart. A true heart is with freedom. A pure heart is the greatest. Why not forget to leave pure hearts to children and find
how to have pure hearts in all of us? Say whatever you please or believe. This does not mean is fact. I've had enough of an
implied variable used to surround real goodness, change the meaning of real goodness and example some imbisolic form of self
presentation. I played hearts when a child. I've had enough of the mechanics following computations from some source of gesture
is not in relationship to real goodness at all. Actually, I've had enough of voice messages when I didn't request a call,
text messages don't help me in my life, television commercials have more ill willed side effects than necessary and health
care companies to ring my phone at their pleasure to forget this is my pleasure they interrupt. I spend more time getting
on do not call lists than living my life. Is this the intent on the invasion of my privacy? Not to mention any other form
in temper inflicted indulgences. I have a right to be tired when I am finished with my day. Why must I remind people after
all this is my day? No there is nothing wrong with me. If there is I will go see my doctor at my will when I need.
Why were my hair cuts always
home cuts? Everything I did was by my self. Everything I do now is by my self. I still cut my own hair. Every time I go to
a hair cutter my hair comes out a mess. Why is this? My mother used to put a bowl over my head to cut my hair. My life is
so fucked up at Halloween I met a serious religious warlock then I find the witch waiting to cause some kind of turmoil. I
cracked my cell phone screen, tripped to fall and seriously bruised already aging knees, had to unpack and then repack a broken
refridgerator along with seeing her broom at the dealer when I was waiting on a car return. My mother was called a witch many
times. I didn't call her that, but she was pretty nasty. Am I from a family of witchcraft? I don't think I want to know. I
almost feel to stay in for the entire week before Halloween. If you think I have an attitude I do. If you haven't read A Knife
At My Throat, Book One here is the link. http://www.elizabeth-vitale.com/aknifeatmythroatbookone.html There are five books.
Should I have shot my mother, the warlock and the witch with the bow and arrow I was taught to use? I would have gone to jail
as they walk free to torment others. The cap guns I played with were remarkable. My mother was my mother. I could never kill
her. See, I already played hearts when I was a child. I had the nooses, horses and every other damaging toy available.
Squirrels had a home
with acorns at play. Basketball in front of the house my brothers never wanted me to play. I wasn't wanted in the house. I
wasn't wanted outside of the house. Where was I wanted? I had sparklers, fire crackers, Halloween costumes, pumpkins, candy,
trick or treat and anything else I wanted except the most important needs of love and my health. A superficial touch is all
I find around me. I am the first to start conversation. If anyone answers is rare. All I was taught imagine there is a lord.
Why must I imagine? Shouldn't I see him real? The whole world is based on a fragment of expectation to follow into someone
or where with imagine. Why not imagine how many people will be beaten, robbed, raped, mamed or a number of other events and
work on imagining how to fix the real problems on the planet? Such as police stealing our money in the name of any reason.
How many innocent people's lives are disrupted daily? God wants it this way I am told. I know nothing can be done because
there really isn't a lord to fix anything. How many people will be neglected while the religious buffs drink the blood of
christ and eat his flesh as a wafer crisp? I don't need a bag of food. I don't need a back door church clothing room. I don't
need a new direction to imagine a change or a crossroad is in the future. Religion is just a control factor of evil capatalized
by religious people to continue the control, keep the evil alive and shit on people any way they can. Why is mankind so stupid
and unable to adventure into real betterment by personal choice from everyone regardless of prayer or not? Here goes choice
again. All every day is on a repeat of past choice without change. Sanity doesn't seem to be permissable. Storms man made
or natural continue to damage property, kill people and destroy lives. No one can fix the experimentation on all of our lives
too. And the lord again is where? In our hearts. Accidents happen. Someone try to mend something.
My seamstress days were interesting, nylons,
petticoats and watching my father drunk while I was at the sewing machine. My mother was tipped a bit too. Practice makes
perfect I was always told. So my negative mind practices itself into perfection as my positive is ridden over with flooded
compromises I won't agree with. I spent a lot of time climbing Indian caves playing with Indian artifices. Those were fun
to flip as a stone across a lake. I spent a lot of time climbing trees. I probably played with a few meteorite rocks. Does
this mean I am only now allowed to climb trees and play with rocks? Stop making me destroy my life in the name of anyone or
anything. How about I hold onto what I please instead of a thought not in agreement? If to spend more than the value right?
Now there is another stupified example let the lord handle my life for me. I certainly wouldn't know how or want to have the
same house as that Christian on the hill bull shit. If you only knew how many times I have followed their Holy spirit spoken
of to help many people only to be shown a bag of rags when I needed. If there is a god I want to watch the punishments handed
down not just hear about from some book. My grandfather always gave money to the Catholic church (notice capitals to areas
of life don't deserve the recognition). He quit one day. I heard he finally recognized how the money wasn't being used. I
come from a long line of religious buffs. More power to them as long as they don't try to conform me.
I came to California many times with the intent for a better life. I left
as I would recognize the same fall into what I learned young. As I said I am always on the run from what appears as a live
memory ready to strike at any moment. I wanted to leave my horrible family ties behind. I did. They found me eventually. No
problem in being found. I have fun talking with some of my relatives. Problem is nothing has changed in my life. The weather
is better for me. My daughter wanted to be a dancer. She got what she wanted. My birth son (I didn't raise him) got what he
wanted. I still prod along with a brick wall in front of me never to allow me through. If I found a door to open was the right
door I probably wouldn't open it. My life has truly been fucked up in many ways. I am still not allowed to even create my
own happiness. I feel I am under a hypnosis I can't break away from (probably religion based). I fall to sleep when I go to
make a change. I stay awake when I need to sleep. There is no balance for me. Financial prosperity seems like a voodoo curse
I should never touch. So it's better I just disappear into some unknown state I don't consciously make right? I want to scream
who is causing so much turmoil in my life. If I hear it's Satan (see again getting capital recognition in writing) I will
laugh. This is not Satan at work (religion at work). Some people will say and do anything for their tax deduction or to keep
the control going. Keep those followers shut up. If it was Satan I wouldn't have a website. I wouldn't be inclined artistically
so well. I wouldn't eat right. I wouldn't be as good hearted as I am. I would be evil. I am not evil. I can't tell you how
many times I just quit. I can't get through the negative energy. This isn't just one of those I will never succeed. This is
you won't succeed by way of intentional infliction of pain. I have tried everything short of beating myself to get this sickness
I carry from whatever source out of me. This is wrong. Religion is as evil as mankind can become and claims glory for the
I look around as I decide what will I do today. I get enough sun. I will work on the remaining writings I need
to number on my website. I will enjoy a cool drink inside out of the sun. My experiences seem to be created for me. I don't
need a dime. I don't need a dollar. I need a few hundred thousand dollars so I can have a home for myself. I need to succeed
as this writer I am. When readers send a message of compliment I am truly touched. My writing was valuable. Would my mother
read my writings? Of course not. My father probably would. My family maybe, maybe not. I can create my own ritual too. If
I stay dirty for three days to finish my own deadline so what? Why do people pass so much judgement especially when they never
lived another's life? How do people perceive? I think everything comes from the way of young lessons? Read my writings. Get
to know me better.
A Knife At My Throat, Book Five
I used to drink a lot. I was taught by the influence from my parents. I wasn't
allowed to drink when young. In my thirty years I awoke to the waste of money. I decided I would casual drink at dinner, parties
and other events. My smoking days were from the influence too. My daughter when she was young asked me to quit. I tried many
times before. Smoking is a very hard habit to stop. Even when I would jog ten miles with the intent to quit I never did. My
daughter said she hated the smell. Somehow this worked. I haven't smoked since she was in grade school. This brings back memories
of always asking for a cigarette. I am happy I don't smoke anymore.
Memories of my own small swimming pool in the yard also
reminds me how I used to sun bathe alongside of my house. My mother always screamed at me to come in. This was another one
of my peaceful moments away from my mother. She should have sun bathed with me. Could be she wouldn't have been so mean. The
sun may have put her to sleep to let me escape her. I was always told what man would want me every time I would sun bathe.
I wondered how the two had any similar meaning. Doesn't matter anyway. Men bore me. I always hung out at the swimming pools
in the apartments I lived. Sun is a very relaxing experience. I even sun bathed on the dock at the bay where I lived. A pirate
ship pulled in one time. I haven't sun bathed there since. All I could think was me being pulled into the water then thrown
on the pirate ship. It's okay. My shape isn't as pretty as it was when young. I am not missing too much. I still get a bit
of sun. I spent a lot of time along the oceans I traveled. Other than the sand crabs and fleas I enjoyed a rest there in the
sun once and awhile. A lot of my writings are from my time along the oceans. America has some pretty ocean areas. I visited
a lot of lakes too.
books, crayons, candy bracelets, thrift stores, penny junk, toy accordions, drums with sticks, toy piano and can of corn for
lunch reminds me how my mother called me a clown for wearing makeup. I could never win with her. My skirts were too short
right above my knees, shoes too high and anything else wasn't to her standards. How about my own standards? I wasn't allowed
my own standards. Everything I did was wrong in my mother's mind. Even going to the local fair was stupid to her. She never
went with me. She didn't enjoy anything I did. Apple bobbing, water dunking, winning stuffed animals, the rides and the purpose
of a fair didn't excite her. Mothers need to get excited with their children. Especially a mother with a daughter. What is
wrong with being a duck standing on the side of the road? Purses without money was no fun either. I would go to school without
lunch money. My father would ask where my money went. I just shock my head. I stole a change purse from a classmate once in
school because I was hungry. I talked with her a couple years ago. I said did you know I took this. She said she didn't remember.
The change purse was leather. I didn't have anything leather in my life until I was much older with my own work money. I understand
how people must feel who are so starved for attention or the little things in life. It's a shame everyone doesn't have money
in their pockets for the fun times in life. Necessities a lot of people don't have even a dollar. Why does someone die with
hundreds of millions of dollars and others can't have one dollar? The scale is as tipped as my mother was.
occasion dress up clothing was for Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas and other dinner events. Visits to relatives was a no show
of hats, bonnets and other beautiful attire. My father was strict when it came to use the words showing up the relatives.
They could show me lower. This is how he called it showing another up, appearing above another, better than, have more than.
Bonnets, white dresses, shoes, purses were for holidays, Sunday school and church. Would my father be awake now if the same
bull shit is being preached as when church began to control people? I am not cross. I am honest. The preachers try to make
the sermons more acceptable and interesting now. It's still the same bull shit though. Tell the children the truth. Those
religious fabricated times were another destructive addition to my growth. Everything was evil unless you went to church.
I don't believe in regularity. I believe in spontaniety. Am I going to hell because of my belief? I truly doubt it. Would
my father still tell me showing up another is wrong? How did my father figure this as logical? How could a team win if not
better than for that game? My memories are full of stupid cobwebs. I received money to give to the preacher in the plate,
but no money to eat at school. Religion is a culprit of insane teachings. My mother may have been forced to follow insane
Outer space with asteroids floating around called heaven still baffles me as was intended. The picture of the castle
in the sky as more important than my life was just as destructive as my mother. I really don't like religion. I really don't
like my mother. A continual subject of both will always remind me how honor is a given want not a force. The use of children
and adults against not of their faith is unforgivable. I didn't say there isn't a castle in the sky. Anything is possible
and many things are probable. Noah's ark never saved me. Science projects had more energy without guilt trips. I see the gray
spectrum. I see the color spectrum. Footballs to play with were another spectrum. Basketball, softball, baseball, bouncing
balls and golf balls were a few more spectrums in my life. These still are spectrums if you take the time to watch how the
changes in light occur around the objects and use of the objects. Any object actually has a spectrum. We all have spectrums.
I had my own angel halos too. Don't bounce the ball in the house. If you want to play go outside. Who said I was playing?
If you don't see the spectrum doesn't mean there isn't a spectrum. Electronics has always been in existence. Just now we are
being given these to control us. We happen to find a good use for the cell phone to make that surveillance a bit more ok.
If you don't think televisions have a brain now as your car go back to school and take mathematics again. Is the reason for
teaching a different mathematic system now to not educate people right?
Kids still receive the fire truck, police car, ambulance, toy
cars, flying saucers, movable people, animals and any other imaginable play apparatus turns us into one of those drivers sooner
or later. I had the nurse bag too. Cover me with a blanket as a baby means I can't sleep without a blanket when an adult.
Yes? No? Nap time still comes around as when in first grade. I didn't go to kindergarten. There wasn't kindergarten. I was
the baby sitter so I never had a baby sitter for myself. The cat with glaring eyes run by battery was fun. I yet to find Santa
eat any cookies I place on the table with milk. Gold fish have a story to tell about life as much as elephants. Memories never
end. Once you leave this body and mind the heart takes over to remember all. I don't mean the physical heart. Don't doubt
the real truth. Why do people doubt the real truth and believe less than the truth? Prayer received for everyone around me
to benefit. What about my benefit? The religious story is full of holes.
To count rocks and sea shells is another great lesson to understand
why is there life. I don't care to understand life. My Chinese diamond ring is my favorite of all rings of all of my years
of life. The decadence of a decade is another fact to pontificate on. I escape guns and live by a beautiful ocean with today
never over. I will see you long after today isn't over. If you think today is over try tomorrow as nothing more than another
today. Made to stand in a corner in grade school for having to go to the bathroom is still unforgivable. I peed my pants in
front of the whole class. Teacher abuse ran rampid. It wasn't called abuse. Training a child for life by standing a child
in a corner for the need to go to the bathroom. Nazi tactics have been around since the beginning of time. Do you really think
anything on this planet will change for the better? Why do you continually try to get me to fight for a cause? I fight for
causes every day of my life. I still don't see one change in the spectrum of world life. Betterment for one is challenging.
Betterment for all is impossible.
In school I studied wood carving, sewing and mechanics as extra school credit. I should have taken psychology
to understand my mother and how to live through her. I didn't feel the time would have fixed anything she did to me. The rejection
I received was intentional. Every day is a struggle not to walk in her footsteps or become like her. Have you heard the saying
like mother like daughter? My identity was destroyed by her. My identity is very weak now. Not only do religious buffs steal
my identity for their holy story my own mother did. I call their story full of holes with the e removed from holy. I can't
be sorry for what I say is true. I am not sorry for how I feel about my mother. She had me, but with no right to destroy me.
Why do religious buffs feel sorry for me? Why do they intentionally look for ways to make me feel guilty? Sounds just like
my mother was. I don't spend my time feeling sorry for anyone really. When scripture is well in all books and taught as true
in all respects of life I might have a different view. My mother never changed. Religious buffs never change. A wake up call
can be a religious story. A wake up call was my mother. When something is being taught is older than I am and hasn't changed
there is a real problem. And, country living biblically in relation to city living are two different scenarios. As my mother
was in her one scenario I am in another. Don't clue me in on anything. Don't read my story to degrade my value as a person.
I don't read anyone's story to degrade their person. How do you know I need to be saved?
I played with crickets, grasshoppers, lady bugs, ants on
their ant hills. I sprayed the ants dead in the kitchen. Funny how I could play with ants one moment then spray them dead.
Centipedes were interesting. I was afraid of water bugs. I was a country child. I didn't like moths. They have wings made
of powder. I pinned a few bugs to boards in science class as much as a typical butterfly catcher with my net. In some ways
I was a spoiled brat. My mother called me a spoiled brat. I never liked to put a worm on a fishing hook. I played with worms
in the rain. I fished in mud puddles to catch nothing. As I sit in the back seat of my car driven for me airplanes fly over.
I am always the driver. Time for me to imagine just like I was taught in religion. I stretch my legs that never stretch. I
relax from a hot day will just return again. My doll house, my stuffed monkey with other stuffed toys and my own airplane
I would sleep with. Dragon flies never frightened me. The bumble bee still makes me run. I think it is the buzzzzzzzzzzz sound.
My fur wraps, coats, hand held fans and other necessities come to mind. The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly all
in one house.
forgot the yoyo, bubble gum, frisbee, china dolls, jewelry box, one real silver chain and ring, sachets and mood ring on my
finger sitting at the top of my stairs with nowhere to go. Construction paper, glue, scizzors, wonderment, bathing suit I
took I had to return, broken dresser drawers, vanity, big old mirrors, bed always falling apart, lumpy mattress, cob webs,
daddy long legs, potato head and building blocks I had. Legos, electric train with a real horn and steam, head bands, snot
on the walls, chickens and pigs, calorie counter books and magazines remind me nothing has changed. Money spends itself. Watermelon,
hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob, pickles, mustard, ketchup, mayo, beer, wine, etc. shows nothing has changed. Can afford
this. Can't afford that. First piece of gum I took when a baby at the counter I had to return. Baby oil, sunscreen lotion,
tanning lotion, confetti pops, segregation, greeting cards, designers, photographers, producers, sun glasses, air freshener
and paper bags are still the same. Spirits of lust and purity still exist. Diversity hasn't changed. God isn't sorry for anything.
My little red wagon, homemade ice cream, baby food, formulas of one or another for some reason stops me to question was I
breast fed or bottle? Can I ever have white teeth? I don't need sympathy. I need hundreds of thousands of dollars to have
my own place to live. I use to always repeat myself when young. I still do now. Policy is full of shit. Diplomacy seems worse.
Why is mistletoe only for Christmas? (see how religion takes everything for their own without asking. Entitlement thought
checkers was fun. The stick horse another fave toy when young. For the bashers and judgement pushers, robotic created religious
soldiers on the planet and in the universe I suppose you never learned how to keep your mouths shut and live your own lives.
Go take a lesson in what real life and love are in fate. See you there to laugh in your faces. Snakes who hide behind religion
are not my cup of tea thank you. I can be just as much of a judgement pusher.
My birthson who I didn't raise decides he has any right
as a Christian minister (who deserves no respect from no respect shown) or just his adopted selfish attitude no less to go
anywhere he pleases with reference to my life never to tell me. Not only after I give him the name of his probable father
when no one wanted to assume responsibility, he never tells me he went to visit him, took tests, pictures and anything else
until I asked. Dominion is a Christian minister characteristic I guess or just a typical male encounter of evil. He then proceeds
to visit my mother in a supposed nursing home where no one can get in and the guards are heavy according to my so loving another
distant brother. He just can't get a picture. What he doesn't understand are the birds generally tweet the truth eventually
and everything is exposed. No one really hides behind the robe for long. See through is the gown any color. The lies from
my house residents since childhood never seem to end. The carryover of isolation also doesn't end. The feeling anything goes
is okay no care to the pain caused. Sorrow over and over begged forgiveness is not on my acceptance level of intelligience.
I get this bit of bull shit after for the past more than thirty years I lived in peace away from my family. I guess they just
can't let go. They certainly don't know how to apologize for real and make amends the right way. Honesty must be a lost treasure
handed down the blood line of my family. Frankly no one cared about me anyway or wanted me except my father. He was gone so
why stay around isolation on a continual level of familiar environment. The sister is another age old well thank you mentioned
in my previous story books for how about we all move along in life. Not possible in my relating born in to hell existence.
I should have thrown snakes at all of them just to see if they knew how to catch. Snakes know snakes as the meaning to this
last line. Well dear sister then why do you isolate me from your family? Afraid truth will bare all? I can't get over how
many people hurt each other every moment of alive time regardless of beginning senses. My other distant brother none of his
friends knew I even existed holds more to my fanciful story. I am to blame of course. Like a rapist who commits the crime
then accuses the victim. I am happy to say I don't need to be on my knees for forgiveness. The guilt trip continues as no
one wants to go to hell alone. Skype everyone and see them all not know why or run in business of another nature.
My family involves my daughter, omits me, and stands looking
like nothing is wrong. The best line was "I don't want my family hearing this." The truth? Open your book to go
back to school. You need it.
To my birth son who I am only the birth mother of go it alone or with your hellish buddies in my family or outside
of. You come to visit me on my birthday then off to visit my mother, whoever else and where I was born without an invite to
accompany you. You didn't even tell me. You are full of shit needs to be removed from your Christmas/birthday card mentality.
Thank you, now goodbye. Love isn't only a greeting card or life in your own way as
the only right of experience.
Memory comes to mind of croquette, fishing, art modeling, lingerie modeling and wanting to buy
my father's house. I want to tell all of my family members face value a serious lecture. I don't think I will fall into any
type of hell you will fall into. APOLOGY is the first step to saving your souls. Never acting so horribly, disgustingly power
tripping is the second step. True punishment for your actions is the third step to realization of your wrong doing. Instead
keep thinking you are fine by your home made self beliefs. You make fools of yourselves more. More fun is how I was removed
from my 1969, 1970 class register in highschool. Who performed this disturbing act of illiminating me from my normal growth?
Was this another family attribute to be sure I never resurfaced at home? Interesting how as soon as I grow a need to walk
through my old neighborhood a new event breaks my peace of mind I might be welcome in my own home town. Definately reminds
me how I was never wanted at home. How I am not welcome or wanted by my family. How I continue to live with people who have
lied about me never to shake their own lives. So, who influenced this? I know haters exist especially to free body, mind people.
Do you people truly feel you have the right to destroy any life you want and it's ok? You have done nothing wrong right? All
of you need a new book of discipline and it isn't the bible of any abridged making. Did you raise your children to believe
your lies about me? Best of my story is I never did anything wrong to any of you people in any way, shape or form. I don't
do anything wrong to you now. I just ask you face the facts you have lied about me, to me, of me and any other game playing
you create as real isn't real. I need to face only the facts of this past paragraph now moving into my evening enjoyment pleasure
to create a life for myself you have no interest in playing a positive part of. No worries. I have survived. I will survive
through all you throw at me. Better yet how do you live knowing dad's hard earned home isn't his anymore and could have been?
How do you live with all of the contents we all were a part of in dad's house? And on and on the saga of my life goes with