My story is never gonna change. I demand irrefutable evidence before I point the finger at someone and here’s why.
Philadelphia Halfway House Luzerne 2009 (True Story) My eyes lit up with enthusiasm as I watched the cigarette accidentally fall from the old man’s hands onto the floor and roll underneath the blue storage locker.
He doesn’t have the strength to move the locker I think to myself,
he has no choice but to leave it there.
The old man better known to the other halfway house residents as “O-G” or “Pops” is for the most part a very calm nice old man. Unfortunately he’s coming out of prison with no family support and I know by his behavior he’s flat out broke.
Numerous times “O-G” has asked me for a menthol cigarette and I have never had a problem giving him one. This of course 1
stopped a few days ago when I suspected rather than ask me he was opting to steal cigarettes from the pack as he was in fact the bunk closest to me.
I knew the moment the other former inmates left the room I could use my muscles to move the locker, inspect the cigarette, and make my case.
Anger and resentment enraged inside of me as I inpected the tiny writing on the loose cigarette. “Newport”.
Damn! I think to myself,
I only smoke Camels
A week goes by and a staff member named Isaiah gets caught stealing from the box we keep our cigarettes in. I’m elated to learn that “O-G” was innocent all along but realize how close I was to smacking him alongside the head as I felt literally “ALL”
the evidence was pointing to him. I knew he smoked menthol, I knew he was broke, and I also knew that he knew which cigarettes were mine. It felt at the time like he was a smoking gun.
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THE LAUNDRY MAT 2023
I’m 42 years old now and it wasn’t until up until two or three years ago that I learned aside from my schizophrenia was I was truly suffering from on a daily basis. Persecutory delusions. It’s hard for me to make friends and it’s even harder for me to trust people. I promised my ex-boss that as an author of over ten books it was on my to-do list to write a non-fiction piece expounding the persecutory delusions I suffer from on a daily basis.
EVERY ONE IS OUT TO GET ME EVERYONE WISHES ME HARM
EVERYONE IS TRYING TO GET IN MY HEAD
My laundry is done washing and I can’t help but notice some holes in my t-shirt.
Has a mousey been chewing on my t-shirt? . I pull the clothes out of the washer one by one carefully like I always do even though I’m so used to that one sock that always falls onto the floor. I’ve been doing my own laundry since the age of 16 even during those few months that I lived with parents. Mom accused me once of overstuffing her washer so I was forced to go to laundry mat ever since. Mommy couldn’t understand why I didn’t argue with this new rule but I have my reasons.
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Every professional knows this one little secret. THE TRUTH
COMES OUT IN THE LAUNDRY.
I didn’t need mommy discovering protein stains or cigarette smoke,or even traces of illegal things. I will forever have bragging rights of mommy not once catching me watching an X-rated movie but she did eventually find some hidden under the steps years later.
I consider myself a creature of habit so after hundreds of laundry loads you better believe I’m proficient at emptying each and every pocket. My washer never makes clanking sounds unless it’s the penny from the guy before me. As I carefully remove the articles of clothing from the washer I discover what poked holes into my t-shirt of ten years. A paper clip.
I’m furious and ready to fight. My face is red and I’m scouring an empty laundry mat looking for the prankster that tossed a paper clip into my load of laundry that damaged my five dollar t-shirt. My head is spinning and I’m thinking about sending an email to my psychiatrist to report this intentional abuse.
The government, the government did it. They are still mad that my little brother was a cop for 15 years and I was the only sober 4
one at the dinner table overhearing all their dirty little secrets.
The police are planning to silence me because I am the man with a pen! Is not the pen mightier than the sword?
I’m 100% convinced that a Republican police officer that feels threatened by my little four inch sword (my pen ha ha) has gps stalked me to the laundry mat to plant a paper clip into my load of laundry!
As I plop my clothes into the dryer I do my best to retrace my steps until I realized that I have a big problem. It’s Monday and the laundry mat is empty. Come to think about it it’s been empty for the entire 35 minutes that I’ve been here.
Did I slip out for an ice cream cone? No I didn’t. My heart rate returns to normal as I realize most likey the paper clip was in the washer BEFORE I put the laundry in. I guess I can put the imaginary gun back as there’s no reason to go on a shooting rampage over this now that I retraced my steps.
Bird Shit Mysteries Year 2022 (Anylizing the Green Eyed Monster)
I’ve been convinced for years that my neighbor is jealous of 5
me because I have no kids of my own to take care of. I know that he doesn’t make much money even if he is a manager but what really galls me is suspecting that he has a squirt gun full of bird shit because as I start my day off I can clearly see a blotch of bird shit right on my car! I guess the right thing to do in this situation is go over and burn his house down but after doing nearly five years in jail luckily I can remind myself how hard it is to get sleep on a matress no thicker than an exercise mat so I guess burning my neighbor’s house down won’t fix my problem to this mysterious bird shit on my windshield.
Someone or some group is DEFINITELY haunting me because it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE that a bird would pick only my car to shit on.
Why me? How much of this town’s dirty laundry might they think I actually know? When is this harassment going to end?
Who is holding the squirt gun full of bird shit?
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