Everything is a game. Everybody in they spot to play and they better do it on cue. They pay you to bump into somebody else or say a word, but they gon turn on you too,
Type it for me, I’ll think it,
Show me magic
Licensed to Talk Shit
Everything is a game. Everybody in they spot to play and they better do it on cue. They pay you to bump into somebody else or say a word, but they gon turn on you too,
Type it for me, I’ll think it,
Show me magic
Ok so I’m sitting ah the bus stop across the street from the circle k. Ok, it’s Sunday so the buses are running a little slower, could or could not be, slower than twenty minutes apart. So, since I was sitting there one bus had gone by. But I was already sitting there for a few. So, people go by, not really anybody walking across my face.
There’s a sudden realization here. Ok, first, let me tell you what just happened…
So, some bitch crosses the street, with a shirt over her head. And if you think you’re dealing with Gang stalking and you see things that’s supposed to get you conditioned and being paranoid as to applying to you, I’m like, hey I walk around with a shirt on my head, you to shield from the sun, even though my skin is darker, but you know skin dehydration causes wrinkles…
So, I’m drinking my drink that I’d say I snagged, ok, it’s hard working jobs without feeling some way on the job like people talking to you, or about you, like everybody tryna whisper they’re in your head but you don’t know anybody, and so, yeah… I’m sitting at the bus stop, the bitch walks by after crossing the street from over by circle k corner to on this side, then she crosses the corner, then re appears, and walks towards me, then walks by, then minutes later somebody like hey, then they touch my shoulder, …
So I grab the bitch pistachios. But it’s like she tried to disrespect me in front of whoever she thought was watching. Then after I tell the bitch like dude, ain’t nobody got time to be jail for you and you know you wouldn’t do that shit downtown, I don’t have no fucking drugs for you. So, I got e bitch pistachios, it’s like I’m not tryna play tough out here it’s these ones out here tryna invade your space, and I got better things to live for, and then it’s like everybody wants you to feel watched and bothered by them doing the irritating shit that they doing…
And all they do is crowd around you, they want you reacting and hiring mad, they hate for anybody to feel comfortable or enjoyable and you can’t even get that out here unless you have your own home and not around other people like them. It’s too many haters out here.
Nobody out here knows me personally, it doesn’t matter if people don’t like black girls, I mean it was just some bum ass white bitch out couldn’t even get a free $11 tablet but sitting up here an jaywalked across the street then tryna ask me for a fucking cigarette that was already sitting at the damn bus stop when I sat down right there, why, cause it’s all types of bums on Thomas ave in Phoenix.
And so, I don’t blame shit on no dam. Ganga stalking. It’s the patterns and I don’t feel conditioned, there has been trauma in my life in the last five years and I know how I always been, how I always felt, and never have it’s been no voices, tryna say or ppl constantly around me tryna feed of my vibes, like feeling ppl and it’s not even positive, just too much.
It’s too much public out here. I’m not in competition wi to nobody, don’t care they exist and wish they’d get the fuck out my face to try and demonstrate oh hey this is how I am, like ok don’t look this way to try and entertain the type of person you never been here around…
And it’s like, today, I’m at the library they open for a few hours today on Sunday, (ok, now a dude beating on the table, these computers are on a circle table…
Guess what, as soon as I wrote that, some bitch said hey do you have an id I can check, only teens on this floor, then AS SOON as I press the button for the up floor, the elevator comes with two old white couple, dude says, oh we’re going to the 5th floor, then it sounded like he whispered something under his breath that he couldn’t real life say to my face but this game they think they tapped into like I can hear everything they’re saying and how they feel about me, that’s why I feel alone, and separated because these are the only types of ppl around,
And they are hateful, they have an agenda and the only way is to get rich to beat the small games they pulling out here like this.
Do you feel like people are monitoring you or using electro magnetic frequency to attack you mentally ? Or met up to attack you or cause some disruption or delay in your life on purpose ? Like people tryna watch you and don’t want you to be successful?
Coming to the close of another day. Yet the night is newborn alive. As I’m sitting here under an awning, sweating from walking two.one miles, I’m like man, every day costs.
Last night I was reading on articles and empacted by the stories of how people are losing their lives. The two recent stories are sad, but real and it’s like wow, nobody really should be complaining. Life is precious and the grand suggestion is making every moment count for something because death could become real at any moment.
It’s stories like these that make you wonder who could this person have talked to before hand. There’s no erasing that. Instead of moping around really dedicate yourself to voicing who you are. Life is too short for excuses. I used to be shy, I was paranoid about sharing my experiences and my stories and as I’m out here adventuring and homeless, people are telling me stories, but it’s not surprising. And after all of that I’m like wow, how could anyone feel alone?
Currently, I’m out in a city where I’m probably the only black girl. Somewhere like Apache junction where the population is under 50k. It’s bums riding around here, but they’re looking at me like, I’m not homeless or something. Sometimes I forget what color I’m am, I have my shades on anyway.
But I ate today, the library is still open, there are petitions to close them, some shit seems like the twilight zone, like one thing happens and ironically that’s the title of the book but I can’t waste time on if that’s the universe sending me signs. I still have to make this $400 to get my car registered so I can get it out of tow and each day is double twenties. As minor as that sounds, who really has your back out here ? And I have to thank God because really that’s what it’s all about.
Im on a four hour walk tonight and the weather claims… hold on, 60% chance of showers overnight. No complaints but also short on cash, but if I run into a circle k hopefully someone won’t have an issue getting the coffee. I really despise having to ask for little things I want.
The moral of the entry is find your thing and do it. Be good to people, and share how good God has been to you. Even if you don’t think you have a personal relationship with God I promise God cares. Everybody goes through things that seem hard and make you sigh. That doesn’t mean quit. Sure I want my car out and I’m annoyed by paranoia, but you have to check yourself and push through. No blaming and accept responsibility. Find the good and grow off that.
Hey, you’re breathing.