Wednesday, January 21, 2009

how many of us might there be?


Page Thirty-eight
Wed 21 January 2009 Northampton


How many people are there in amerika who are completely innocent, non-criminal people, who've had the sick bad fortune to end up with serious criminal types wanting to get them, and are in bizarre undercover "protection," whereby they are simply the property of infantile people who have no more conscience than the criminals themselves? And these would-be heroes have protected me against NOTHING else: not against homelessness, nor living outdoors, nor trauma, nor humiliation and degradation, not against loneliness or despair or grief. Not against hunger, not all the time.

I would say, at a guess, that maybe there are 10 or so people like me in this latent-fascist haven we call amerika. And I'd further guess that of those theoretical ten, most of them didn't already have PTSD when "protectors" took possession of them, and that NONE of them had Asperger's. I think the chances are quite good that I'm a one-of-a-kind amerikan, in the WORST possible way that you could be such a thing.


Update 22 Aug 2009: I wrote this during my second stay in Northampton, which was longer than my first. Again, the anger: it's a dominant theme in the journal writing I did last year and early this year. Because I always found Matthew's news about what had happened in my life believable, I believed absolutely that these "protectors" had taken over my life in a greater way than I had first thought. Matthew was no help there: he never told me how large or small the protection was, or how long it would last. I myself still believe the things that he told me -- too much that was bizarre happened around me and to me, and M. did things that I can describe in no other way than that they were things undercover people would probably do. If you want to conclude that M. played a big head-game with me, then that's what you conclude. I see that as only remotely possible, but others will have other thoughts. In any case, I was never delusional. I never heard voices in my head or dreamed up any of this stuff.

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(bird at www.toscano.com)

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