Sometimes

DISCLAIMER I HAVE NOT SHARED THIS BLOG WITH MY FORMER OR CURRENT COWORKERS OR ANY OF MY FORMER OR CURRENT NEIGHBORS

Sometimes I don’t want to get up in the mornings.

Sometimes I stare at all of my medicine and wonder if I should make a cocktail of them all and drink.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone really and truly cares.

Sometimes I wonder who I can really trust.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone realizes what I’ve been through.

Sometimes I do want to kill myself.

Sometimes I wish my neighbors would stay out of my business.

Sometimes I wish my neighbors wouldn’t scream at the top of their lungs what they read or listen to, that includes this blog, phone conversations, and God knows what else.

Sometimes I realize I don’t have to always help everyone one.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone realizes that my family isn’t the same as theirs.  I can’t just walk down the street or around a corner and visit them.

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and save and help more people.

Sometimes I wish that I wasn’t me.

Sometimes I wish that I wasn’t so nice.

Sometimes I wish people didn’t think I was an idiot.

Sometimes I wish people knew that when I say I try, I really mean I’m trying.

Sometimes I wish people took the time to get to know me instead of asking someone else who only thinks they know me.

Sometimes I wish people didn’t assume.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so tired.

Sometimes I wonder will I ever think that any place I work at will not be the same as every place I’ve worked at.

Sometimes I wish someone could walk in my shoes and live my life from the beginning and understand why I’m me.

Sometimes I wish I had done something different.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t in so much pain or hurting.

Sometimes I think no one cares.

Sometimes I try too hard.

Sometimes I don’t try hard enough.

Sometimes it’s hard dealing with things.

Sometimes I put on a facade because I don’t want anyone asking me questions.

Sometimes I don’t think anyone wants me around.

Sometimes I think people are always trying to get rid of me, especially at work.

Sometimes I feel like I’m a liability.

Sometimes I do cry.

Sometimes my neighbors make fun of me because I’m crying without knowing why.

Sometimes I get made fun of for crying.

Sometimes crying is great way to relieve pressure.

Sometimes I don’t want to eat.

Sometimes I don’t feel well, but I keep going.

Sometimes I don’t want to be alone.

Sometimes I want to be alone.

Sometimes I need help.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone would try to help me.

Sometimes I think people enjoy watching me suffer.

Nurse Bob

DISCLAIMER I HAVE NOT SHARED THIS BLOG WITH MY FORMER OR CURRENT COWORKERS OR ANY OF MY FORMER OR CURRENT NEIGHBORS.

Bob sat in the room.  He felt like a prisoner.  He had been removed from the general population and placed in solitary confinement.  He was a prisoner in that sense.  Not only was he put in that room, he was doing a job no one else wanted to do.  It was strait up bullshit.  He would hear them argue about how no one wanted to do his job.  I guess that’s going to keep him there for a while.

Still when they heard him cry and being upset, why would they think he didn’t have a reason to cry.  Why make fun of someone.  Why act like that moment of pain wasn’t worth it.  They fucking didn’t know what it was like to know the people where you work, the people where you go to church, and even the people where you live were watching you and talking about you like you were a terrorist, a crime boss, or even a serial killer.

Everyone knew every intimate thing about him again.  They even knew about his family member.  He couldn’t take a shit without someone knowing.  Unlike the other place when he went to the bathroom no one was following him around.  Even when he went in the elevator he knew they followed him.  He knew when he went to lunch or on break someone would be taking it with him. Just so they could keep their eye on him.  Like he was going to steal his own lunch.

Still here he was again, the butt of the joke, the whisper in the hallway.  Everyone was talking about him.  He couldn’t do anything.  They tried to smile in his face, but he knew the whole truth.  He knew why he was separated.  He knew why he put in that room.  So everyone could freely talk about him, like he was a freak on display.  He was in solitary confinement.  I prisoner.  Of course he was a prisoner.  Anytime you want to keep someone from someone else, you put them in a prison.

Laudie Daw

DISCLAIMER I HAVE NOT SHARED THIS BLOG WITH MY FORMER OR CURRENT COWORKERS OR ANY OF MY FORMER OR CURRENT NEIGHBORS

Well I’ve been doing some things.  Learning some strengths and weaknesses.  Learning that I have some things to over come.

Sometimes people say things and they don’t realize how it can make someone believe them.  Right now I’m supposedly dating someone and I’ve aged two years in two days.  Try to do rumor control on that one.

So kind of thinking about some things.  Sometimes I think it would be easier if I did some of the things I’m thinking about.

Eh well I still wish people weren’t keen on making sure they express that they read something.

Still I have a lot of fear.  Fear of being hurt especially by people who don’t know the whole truth about something.

Well I’m out for now.

Not wanting someone to think you’re a criminal

DISCLAIMER I HAVE NOT SHARED THIS BLOG WITH MY FORMER OR CURRENT COWORKERS OR ANY OF MY FORMER OR CURRENT NEIGHBORS

I know someone who got offended because someone treated them like a criminal.

Hell I still get followed in stores when I know they can see me on camera.

Funny if you don’t want someone to think you’re a criminal then don’t act like one.

For example if someone can tell you how much money you have in your bank account and have access to your Social Security Number, then what are you to think? Are you to not think that they would take money out of your account?  Are you to not think that they might try to use your information to steal your identity?

Would I be surprised that someone did that to me?  No.  I’m afraid to even buy new things and bring them in my home, even when I need the new things.  Why?  Well it probably would just get taken.  That would suck right?

I mean I’m pretty sure people who read this, who I never shared this with take offense when they read it.  Well if they never were introduced to it by her, whichever her it was, they wouldn’t get upset about what I write.  They wouldn’t discuss it out loud where I could hear them.  Plus I’m pretty sure they’ll purposely do something so I know they’ve read it.

Still most people will believe anything from someone who is always in their business.  Not sure why.  I don’t like people in my business, but they are aren’t they.

 

Happy New Years!

DISCLAIMER I HAVE NOT SHARED THIS BLOG WITH MY FORMER OR CURRENT COWORKERS OR ANY OF MY FORMER OR CURRENT NEIGHBORS

So Happy New Years.

Been a while.

Finally my neighbors have realized that I’m not writing about any one at work or someone they know. Especially a certain group of people at work. Finally!

I wonder if they think it’s a true story or one of my own creations.

Yes I seem to be a bit more coherent. That’s for me to know and you to find out. Just because I seem ok doesn’t mean I am. The thing you need to know is that most people hide a lot of things inside. Some people aren’t capable of hiding things though. Yet sometimes silence is best.

*smirk*

So yeah. Not going to go into my resolutions or anything. I know what they are.

Sorry I kind of have a Dr. Jekyll/ Mr. Hyde moment.

Oh this year we shall see.

Just realized I forgot to do something. Oh well.

So we shall see my pretties if I do more on this, since I’ve been keeping myself a bit busy.

Oh yeah I wonder if that group of people are still sitting around waiting for me to write something so they can discuss it out loud so I can hear them?

Same with my bank account. You know it’s really unnerving hearing someone tell you how much money is in your account. I think people forget voices carry, or that you’re sitting in the same room, literally in the same room. Still I guess my missed calls were the best.

I’m pretty sure FDIC violations carry jail time if the perpetrator is caught.

I know how to fix it though.

Ah yes. Still trying to learn some things. Not going to go into it.

Psychos…how do you deal with psychos. I need to consult an FBI profiler on that.

Any way later.

Nurse Bob

DISCLAIMER I HAVE NOT SHARED THIS BLOG WITH MY FORMER OR CURRENT COWORKERS OR ANY OF MY FORMER OR CURRENT NEIGHBORS

The new place seems nice enough. He gets to do some things he never got to do before.  It’s so much better than being a nurse.  Not so much stress.

Then all of  a sudden he heard a voice that was familiar to him.  No way it couldn’t be him.  It was Ivan.  He could hear him.  Then the whispers the talking about his family.  The thing is Ivan didn’t know was that the particular family member he was talking about used to work there and they could easily pull up their records and disprove anything he said.

It stared all over again.  The whispers, the discussions, the evil stares, the acting scared, and the rumors.  This cause so much commotion that they told them to stop talking about it because he was on the floor.  Of course that only made it worse, they wouldn’t stop now.

Eventually they smiled at him and put him in a room.  He assumed it caused fear.  People looked at him funny and treated him like he was a disease.  He didn’t like the way they looked at him.  Just like the other place.

What would be the next step after he was placed in confinement?  There would be meetings determining what was true and what was not.

Meetings discussing things that happened to him before.  Meetings about something that happened at his home.  Moments he thought he was all alone, but he wasn’t was he?  How could he mistake his own anguish being played and hearing people making fun of  him for crying.  Acting as if his pain was not real, as if what he was crying about was not justified.

How would they have felt is things about their life and family was given to strangers?  How would they feel if their moments alone at home was broadcasted to strangers?  How would they feel if they heard someone talk about something he thought only he had felt and he had been through, but strangers knew?

It wasn’t the first time he had heard them replay it, no.  He heard it above him when his neighbors sat down and replayed it over and over again.  That woman and those loud as people.  “He was loud.”

Yeah he was loud he had just been talked to by someone at church who kept saying “Don’t worry about what people say about you.”  That pretty much told him they knew.  They knew about something that according to where he was, it wasn’t supposed to go to Mario, but it when out all over the city.

How could he even be safe in God’s house if everyone treated him the same?

So yes, he was crying and upset.  It was a deep pain.

But now he knew he hadn’t imagined anything.  He knew he wasn’t crazy.  He knew that everything he went through was validated, by the urgency to put him in a room.

Still he knew they thought he was whatever they said he was.  He had been fingerprinted when he worked at the police station.  He had been through two background checks before he got into the other place and he knew he had been through another one before he could get into this place.  Still everyone wanted him to be a monster, to be bad, to be the most evil person in the world.

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