You're perfectly fine

So it's been a couple of days since I've had anything to say.

Keeping it real on my brain today....

I haven't had sex in 3 fucking years and I feel like I have an orgasm building the size of an atomic bomb. I'm at the point where I know it socially unexceptionable to have sex with strangers, but I'm also at the point if I don't do something about this soon, I fear all hell will break loose. I'm a recovering sex addict. That's fine, as my friend Joseph would say I've conquered it if I've gone this long. While he says things like this I imagine riding his face till his beard falls out. He's got this caveman sexiness about himself. I try to concentrate, but seriously, I'm really only plotting ways to get him into bed. He ignores my advances. It's a damn shame. Like brute masculinity. He's fucking hot.


I think I was okay till the physics guy put me into the bdsm toy. I held together well. Now my head space gets lost in robbing the sex toy store of all it's goodies and locking myself in my personal sex dungeon for a year. Hoping only that a year would be long enough to get this out of my system. I feel sorry for the next man who has sex with me. Its really for the best it wasn't actually Tom. His schedule doesn't allow for such escapades. I bet he uses his bed for sleep and everything. Although his girlfriend is hot, I bet she sleeps next to him. It's a damn shame. He would be falling asleep during interviews if he were mine. And waking up to his his phone vibrating sexy things. You know the more I think about this, it really was for the best. My Nana has asked me before why I like younger guys.

Stamina. As Tom is almost 50 I bet he snores loudly, and is actually an exhausted old man. I on the other hand have the libido of an 18 year old who just discovered masturbation. 

I need someone to fuck my brains out now. Like seriously... please apply for the job. The rest of the world is dulling to my senses. 

You will get intervals when I will fetch a Gatorade for you or a quick snack. Water will be provided, as it is essential, I need you hydrated, for cum and sweat purposes. Don't worry about going to work, or bills, as we don't need modern advances for such duties. Electricity isn't needed.

Someone save me from myself.

A strange turn of events

So my life is never dull. Today, I met the fake Tom. Or at least video chatted with him. Got some sort of honesty. I can appreciate that. Oddly enough, very fucking handsome. Like incredibly? Like way hotter than Tom. Which now that he's been honest, and at this point I believe for the most part he is, I understand the situation he's in. I tried to tell him it would be way easier to scam women being himself than trying to pretend to be someone else.

He's melty hot. My type. Athletic, younger, great smile, I had to look away while we were video chatting because hot guys make me nervous. And he's just as sweet as he always was. I don't know why he's running around pretending to be someone he's not. He's swoon worthy.

Seriously... hot as fuck people. Fucking crazy.... Like I know at this point I should totally be pissed this guy has lied to me, and I kinda am. I'm more sympathetic as to why he did it... But at the same time I am a fucking sucker for a great smile and pair of eyes.

Yep there it is people... all my life problems summed up in one sentence.. I'm a sucker for a great smile and pair of eyes.


This has gotten me into trouble before.. but.... how much fun would life be if there was never any trouble?

So for now... I'll be a sucker. And in my life, stranger things have happened.

The end of the world as we know it

I hope this whole fake scenario  isn't the only interesting thing that happens to me in my life. He really did try again to tell me he was another famous person as if I hadn't figured out how he got a California phone number. (Text Me app) and when he did, I asked if he wanted me to send him pictures of who he was claiming to be. He told me he liked I was smart. I told him he's nothing but a coward and a liar and I'd rather not waste anymore of my time because he was living a life of fear. He made up his own opinion long before me that he was not lovable, and that's when he decided to take part in the evil of the world. He prejudged me and decided I didn't deserve the truth.

What's worse is he originally pretended it was because I posted Marry Me on the real Tom's fb page. All the deception, all the bold face lies, everything he pretended to be, was because those two words. Two words I wrote while I hysterically cried laying in my friends bed watching old Canadian TV heartbroken over Benga. Suicidal. Sobbing. Those two words written in a tragic moment to humor myself and break the heavy thought of loneliness earned me the trophy of all this.

The actual Tom thinks I'm a moron. Not to mention I'm sure for his career purposes he's not even allowed or would even want to speak to me. I'm sure he equally prejudged me. And this other person, I will just keep calling him fake Tom, in a moment of my already miserable lonely existence, decided that even though life had been hail storming shitty things on me since birth, I needed some more. So he could not only waste my time, what little heart I have left, but try to get rich quick.

I swear, I have had a shitty enough life I do not need anyone to go out of their way to try to make it worse. Just video tape it and I'm sure even after a week you'll have enough footage to last you a lifetime.

I often contemplate death. I find when you really need a friend, you find yourself alone. Unless you're my friend, then you have someone who will bend over backwards like a fucking idiot for you.

Not to say smite God right now, but lets put into perspective the last year of my life.

Benga is gone. Forever gone. Lost my house, my car, I have cancer for the third time. I have a special needs kid going through puberty, I was raped, I had to put down, not one, but two of my dogs. Who were my best friends, fuck, hella more loyal than humans. I have zero insurance, I don't work enough to feed my kids, I can't look for another job to take a month off to get a fucking hysterectomy. I can't paint. I have no funds to even do what I love. My body is tired. What I do have when I work goes to my Nana to help her with her expenses and bills too. The extent of my love life is getting catfished by someone who pretended to be Tom, and I fucking believed them for a month. For the person to completely degrade me for two words I wrote as a joke. I'm always exhausted. There isn't enough of me. I don't even know how to socialize anymore.

The majority of the world is cruel, unkind, and frankly just fucking mean. But saying I contemplate death during these things makes me mental.

This is what I wonder about suicide, if we actually do it, are we not supposed to do it, because in every reality there is a me, and to take one out of this dimension in fact creates an error? Because we are all connected but I would break the connection if I killed myself? Why then wouldn't that connection just be broken anyway when I died? I wonder what my doppelgangers are doing right now. I would if they think about death the way I do. I wonder if anyone does.

I've met death, honestly it's beautiful. It's this place that annoys me. Who wants to grow old hating the place they are? I often wonder if we are not supposed to kill ourselves because we are taking God's power out of his hands? Even though, we are God? Does that then make us not only a paradox, but a paradox wrapped in an enigma?

You're all just a bunch of tetrahedrons. Nothing more, nothing less. All these grandiose facts of life are just illusions we keep buying into.

I wonder what it's like doing DMT right as you're about to jump out of a plane to go skydiving. I bet that the entire earth would make sense. I bet whoever has the balls to do this, has a bigger idea of life, and what it actually encompasses more than anyone ever.

I'm sleeping on the fucking beach again tonight. I can't take my own thoughts anymore. I wish my brain had a shut the fuck up mode I could hit a button and put into effect.

Fake Tom threatened to murder me.....

True Story... if I broke his heart. Don't worry, I'm definitely posting screen shots of that one. Although, I know I'm right, and I do, Now he's telling me his name is Andre, I can call him AD and he lives in Brazil, although he is a US citizen, when his father died he was 9 and sent back there to live with his grandparents. But this is after he told me he was 25 and lived in Maryland.

He called me yesterday. Months now have passed, and when he knew he was in danger, he called to apologize. His number was blocked, so it kicked it straight to voicemail. I listened a few ours later. He said he only said the things previously yesterday because he wanted to hurt my feelings. He wanted me to hurt the way he was. And he really was sorry for everything, and he's never met anyone like me. And he's on his hands and knees begging me to forgive him because he can't lose me. I'm the strongest women he knows.

When I did unblock him to attempt to get details, I'm even more certain that he is incapable of telling the truth. Which I already knew. I asked him for a picture of himself and he sent me a picture of Christian Linder, a German politician. Although very handsome, not so smart considering reverse image searches.

And I think up until this moment, I've remained calm, not so much to the real Tom but I did apologize for that, I know none of this is his fault. But now, now I'm kinda fucking mad. I am a deeply genuine person. I am patient, kind, thoughtful, giving, and you know none of these are my own glory, but God's. I take no credit for who I am, just a blessing the way my brain operates. But currently I'm kinda pissed that finally after months of his lies, that I even for one second took the time to talk to him for even a half of a second to try to understand his unique human experience here on Earth, and this little fucker doesn't do anything but lie some more.

I know people have to survive. I used to be the dope man. I used to get you whatever you needed. I had kids to feed. I did stupid, selfish things for a very long time of my life. Until I had a gun pointed directly at my head down the ally where my nieces and nephews were out playing. I could of died, right there, in the middle of exchange, and my family, young children, would of watched me get my head blown off. For the first week after, I was furious I got stuck out of the product... it was on loan.

Then I thought, I could of died. Right there, over something as stupid as that. And instead of being pissed, I tried to pray that in the world we live in today, I bet they just have some kids to feed too. And how do we make this a better place?

So I noticed the elderly ladies yard I always cut through, hadn't been cut in a while. I mean it was really long. So I borrowed my Nana's lawn mower and made a choice. To change the world the only way I could think of. Because I didn't want to keep being mad over it. One. One random act of kindness had to be the only way to make this place better. So instead of doing selfish, stupid, anger perpetuating things anymore, I needed to change myself to change the world. And I went and starting mowing her lawn.

And after about an hour, (she had a huge yard) she very confused came outside and asked what was going on. And I explained, I didn't want anything, I lived right down the road and always cut through, and I noticed it hadn't been cut in a while. And I recently had something horrible happen to me, and the only way I could think to not be angry anymore was by trying to do at least one good thing a day for someone to change the world.

This woman, who took care of her husband who was no longer able to cut it. He had dementia. They were about 80 years old. Explained he had hurt himself the last time her tried, and her grandchildren usually do it but the mower broke. She tried endlessly to give me money at that point, I refused. And she said she never put a gate up because She never really believed land actually belonged to anyone, so I was free to cut through whenever I needed.

I made a friend with Ms Judy that day, and more than that I made a difference. And I finally slept again that night. Everyone in Christianity talks about the moment they were saved. That was my moment. The moment the gun didn't go off. The moment I lived. That place is never a distant memory in my mind. Rather one I keep up close because without it, I would forget to be who I was really made to be. Though it's been years and years now, I think it was yesterday too. I don't mind now that, that moment was my defining one. I like who I am today. I like who that person made me be.

But this "Tom" "Harrison" "Andre" guy, is taking advantage of my kindness, and my kindness is most certainly not a weakness. I tried to listen with a humane heart to what he could possibly be going through. And while he claims he loves me. I think very much like the rest of the world, he has no idea what that means. Also... Still trying to sell me a briefcase.

To all the Tom's, and such great heights

So today, as always in my life is ever interesting.

"Tom" aka fake Tom contacted me again today. I also sent his info to the Real Tom. That's how I know our strange interlocking connection in the universe was over. But I don't think the fake one was actually planning on me finding him. I think he thought I was a retard. I'm sure what the real one thinks along with his people do too.

I'm not. I'm not stupid because I believe in love. I am a person who looks at the entirety of the universe and hopes, and prays, and has an unyielding desire to hope for more. I see greed, and despair, and starvation, and I look for miracles, and hope, and glances of good within it. Because I don't my entire being would dissipate. Because with all the evil, who in their fucking right mind would continue without hope?

So, when he text and I called him by his name, he asked who are you calling Harrison? I said you... I got a lol and a ok back.

Then to make sure he knew I was in fact correct about knowing who I was speaking to, I told him about himself.. Navajo man.. around 60?

Silence is golden. I tried to talk to him some more after that, but my guess is he knew at that point I knew what I was talking about and likely got scared. Rightfully so.

Did you know that I test in the genius IQ range? Like I am actually brilliant. In high school I skipped nearly every class to get high. Smoking weed was way better than sitting in some class next to people I hated anyway. After the fact, when I didn't graduate, I enrolled in some program to get me GED ready. With a tutor. I missed so many appointments (smoking weed and lots of cocaine). At one point my tutor got to the point he was tired of wasting his time. He called me and said I have one more chance to sit down with him or he was going to quit. I said fine, met with him and he put the books in front of me and starting asking me questions. And when I answered all of them correctly, he looked at me puzzled and said he was going to give me a practice test. Which I did just fine. So we scheduled the actual tests.

I show up, high as fuck from the night before, trippin balls, everyone looks like midgets. Do the test and leave. I call a couple weeks later, and get my results form my tutor. To which I heard, Melissa I was just getting ready to call you, .......and? Out of 50 people, you scored the highest on every test. The lowest score you had was a 98%....

Cool. That's when I enrolled in college. I just don't like the formality of classes. That structure isn't for me.

I'm very smart. I just choose to regardless want to believe in the unknown. I want the magic. I need it. Because knowing every possibility doesn't make me smart. Being wise doesn't get you anywhere but logical answers. Who wants logic? The world is already cold and calculated. It's a giant mathematical equation. I get physics. I love physics. Really, there is magic in it too.

But to believe in love, it's not to believe in just a mathematical improvability. It's to trust what you can't see. To feel dopamine, and oxytocin course through you veins and want more, and run with the wind. It's a real life adventure. It's saying to hell with opinions, and and odds, and feeling the earth on all of it's axis, and the movement of it's thousands of miles an hour, that everyone else chooses to ignore.

I'm not a fucking retard for believing in love. Morons have all the answers and never question anything. My IQ is 122. It's not at the top of the scale, but it's higher than most. It leaves me craving for someone with an above average IQ to have real conversations with.

Even when I went to dinner with the physics major last week... At least I could have a conversation with someone who understood that there is more than meets the eye. That for anything to be possible, everything had to be. The human eye, actually only sees 1% of whats around us. That actually means that there are 99% invisible forces at work at any given time. That's worth believing in. At least for the time we hung out I didn't feel so alone.

Back to being an evil genius by myself though. At least till I find someone brave enough to embrace me. But for your enjoyment... Here are Harrison's and I's conversation today where her was caught... and then quiet. Ignore my typos I was driving and changing songs at the same time..lol

(this is about an hour after I originally wrote this) and I have heard from Harrison, who was essentially pissed off he was caught. Tried to emotionally manipulate me. As most narcissists do. Telling be basically I was just a stupid girl who wrote Marry Me on Tom greens page. And the second my dreams didn't come true I pushed love away, and talked "shitty" as he kept telling me. Telling me I'm too damaged to love. That I'm mean and pushed him away when I didn't get my way.

Asked if I was such a genius why then would I be pissed off? Because I have a heart you fucking manipulative fuck. Again, and now more so than ever I understand why I wake up everyday and choose to be the person I am regardless. This man not only told me I was right (duh) but the person I saw in him was someone he left a long time ago. Because emotions make you weak. And there is no place for weakness in this world. It will devour you.

And I saw it. Right there in that statement the reason the universe put him in my path for. I was exhausted, weakened by my own senses. Tired. And tried. And worn. I had previously been annihilated for love. This unicorn of a feeling I had been searching for was dampening my soul. I was exhausted. I was on the outskirts of my own being reminding myself again that perhaps I do need to give up. And then I heard him. In his most honest statement ever. And his words truer than any ever spoken before.

And I know.. I know if I give up even when there is less air at the top, it will turn me into him. A monster. It will make me exactly what I hate more than anything. Greedy and prideful. Everything I am maybe be a foreign object the universe made and put here, but even here, there needs to be beacons of light. I do not now, or ever wish for monetary riches. I don't have a lust for things. It does get weary being alone, but I will certainly be damned if I'm a fucking unicorn settling for just a pony show.

He thought I was in lust for a name. I was not. Would it of been way fucking cool to be the real Tom lady? Fuck yeah, but every conversation would of been the same. I wouldn't of changed. Is Tom my type? Yes, smart, comedic, uninhibited? Those are things I crave for in a partner. But what he has acquired he would never let go of, and I don't belong in that kind of world. I don't need to be in the hollywood hills. I don't like cameras. I don't need to be an idiot to get people to pay attention to me. Nor do I fit what I am more than sure is his type. He may have been a comedic genius when he was younger, but now he's just another guy who cares more about money and riches and fame than he does about actually living. To be honest, my heart breaks for both of them.

I'm heart broken over two men I have never known. This is me. This is how my heart operates. When I would fantasize about talking to him, he was gentle, I could hear his voice when I would read his texts. I imagined our room, and driving him crazy with love. Playful. Fun. When I did actually speak to the real one, I feel bad he has to be cold and calculated. He has no room for error, or passion. Where I imagined pillow fights, and tickling, and making breakfast, he is not even allowed to speak. He is not allowed to just be. There is too much risk for this once seemingly hilarious guy, to live. To just be. And while I'm sure he doesn't mind in that going home to his mansion, to his hot girlfriend. I wanted midnight water balloon fights, and kayaking, and jumping out of planes together. Intelligent conversations, and lazy Sundays filled with books. And singing together in the car.

This is the part where my own mind would like to have the ability to eat itself like a praying mantis's mate. In reality, I got an old bitter Native man taking advantage of people because of his circumstances. And an old bitter comedian, who had dollar bills where his heart used to be. The lesson I learned, is a hard one to swallow. I'd rather have love than anything at all. That's not a weakness. In fact, I'm positive now very few people have the ability to hold that strength. I'm gracious and disheartened now. 

What do you like to do?

Fall asleep on my beach in a pit of despair. Really resets the insomnia.

She holds her breath all day

And gasps for air at night. Today, I'm sleeping on the beach. When nothing in the universe makes sense, I find myself drawn to spend time with her myself.

No city lights. No confusion. Just being whole. I find myself begging her not to leave me here alone.

As the postal service plays in my headphones I wonder who I am. I wonder if I even know. Or do I just keep going. Never stopping. Never thinking. Just reacting.

Fake Tom is gone now. Real Tom is too. I suppose he never was there though. And all I'm left with more puzzle pieces of myself, asking myself where they go. What do we do now. Silence is sobering. And somber.

Who could love me? It's not that I am not unlovable, it's simply I want to love so hard that in the fraction of a percentage there is to beat the odds when it comes to love, that it stops me of hope.

I like being irrational for love. I think it's one of my most admirable qualities. And yet the universe created me without another half. Doomed to never be whole.

And if the only possibility is to settle, my lungs will continue to concave until they mummify. Who am I? Who have I ever been? Why am I Here? In this brutal place with no love. Where greed stretches from end to another, yet love, the mystic creature it is, is never here.

I feel like my life is likely a replica of the show the good place. This is a very specially designed own hell to get the most out of torturing me.

Where is our humanity? Where is the desire that burns a hole in your flesh and is so much less than a responsability that it becomes enjoyment? Where?

Did I successfully kill myself those years ago and I'm in denial and burdened forever to only graze love but a moment, never grasping? Never holding? Always with a burning position to park, kick my feet up, and sit down with a good book?

Where? Where are they for me? The love that isn't a lesson? The love that doesn't hurt?

I can read, write, do all the things the earth has to offer, but without love it's a shallow adventure to null my own senses.

Someone asked what I wanted to master in this life, years ago. My answer was love. But I'm not for the faint of heart, and I've never met someone even remotely close to as brave as me. They idolize it. I do not. I know it's bad with good. It's a lot of acceptance, and very possibly denial, but it defies ever urge to jump ship because they are worth it. Everyone is.

So with every failure under my belt, I imagine I am climbing mountains. And with every step up, it an acceptance that there is less air.

And I beg, with my entire aurua and fiber, and molecule, and atom, to please do not let me get to the top alone. While I will happily  be a martyr for the wishes of others. To teach and learn, and give my every breath as a witness, but my heart, wants be loved with the same ferocity back. And I think I'm alone here.

In one of the greatest love tales of all time, they loved for merely a day and died. Why do I think I'm better?  Why don't I give up.

I'm bankrupt without it.

I need a beast. I need a monster who is capable of being tame. Who looks into these two different colored eyes, and says I've been waiting just as long. And my soul can stop wondering and rest. My soul is not at home here. It's gutwrenching unwavering pain. To know how easy it is, to whisper I love you I'm the dead of night. To beg someone to not get out of bed the next day. To have a fortress of kind words, and sea of romantic suffocation.

I've been on my own now since birth. Lost. Alone. Marveling at my own survival skills, and even my adaptation skills.

I just need these things from such great heights to come down now.