Deep Throes Calamatia.

 In the deep throes of the calamatia as I was trying to regain my balance I would write these notes onsomewhere else and it was being lost in a forest of unfriendly people more like as if they were more like animals. The people were not nice. I created those magazines to represent the struggle of this oppression which is oppression of the truth. I ponder to you why do these women think so highly of theirselves yet belittle theirselves. Its ironic. You think you are doing something by showing people you went bad because a person screwed up their whole deal of welcome mat but the reality is you are just very antisocial. You refused to even pretty much vocalize anything! I never heard anything from anyone so the fact that people want to act as if I did not care about them is bullshit; they are just idiots who did not recognize the strange circumstances of the social life and that no one is going to risk it all for people who are just dangers wanting to be groomed. You wanted to believe shit to excuse yourself because you never communicate and if a person is going to be like that then fine. So many people think I screwed up shit for whatever they were trying to be nice or whatever but I did not. I did nothing wrong. Its them who refused to speak to me and basically want to do so inapproriate shit and abuse a person and their kindness.

I woke up today with a realization of my past works; I was inspired by you? Someone so fucking mediocre and so dumb. I mean its embarassing when you think about it. Inspired by who? Inspired by how? Inspired by when? Just figments of imagination- I gave you humanity, heart, character and fucking soul and all you give is what you take which pretty much everything!  

But no; I did not even write everything down in that time. A person was always cursing you people in their head for what they had done and it just cannot be forgiven.