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a cab) said to me, one evening I was going home from shopping, I think Eminem was on the radio, and he asked it was alright with me. I answered that it was fine and didn't bother me. He said, he didn't like White rappers because they rap about their Mothers in a negative way. I hadn't really thought about it or noticed and said so. I think he was a Gang Stalker used to tell me, yet again, that I am/was supposed to pretend that my Mother was good to me no matter what. I think the "Honor your Mother and your Father and your days will be longer" commandment was a commandment that was used as some kind of a mantra that gave horrible Mothers of any race, but particularly the uneducated American Black ones some sort of a morality stick to beat up their abused children with. I don't recall anyone using this on Vikki or Valli, so I had to assume that I was supposed to willingly be a whippng girl and never speak of the injustices no matter what question is aked of me about the hows and why's of my situation (isolation). It would have been different if they had allowed me to simply work and play as I saw fit, but to put me into situations where I would be asked questions and to be expected to lie was absurd. I have never had anything to hide or lie about. If any of my abusers did, then it was in "their" best interest to make amends with me because I was/am not going to lie about myself for my abusers. As many of them as there are, I would have thought they didn't care what I said about them, unless they had been deceiving eachother, like they had a habit if doing. I was compliant and whenever I was, I was rewarded with more brutality and Stalkers who wanted the secret of what they did to me to remain a secret. The more they demanded control over my life and insisted that I accept people I haven't chosen to be companions of mine; the more I heard my Mothers words: "pick your people, don't let them pick you". I would have chosen companions, but none of them were my equal and with their constant monitoring of me it was unlikely to happen. I was supposed to be willing be a slave of those who could never be anything to me except Gang Stalkers who wanted me to deny reality, so they can pretend they are worthy of their artificial promotions. Everything my Mother wanted to embrace and escape, Vikki, by dishonoring our Mother, ruined for our Mother. They're retaredly greedy for what others have earned. They could never be anything to me except delusional idiots trapped in fantasies they ignorantly attempt to bring into reality. They want to be worthy of their artificial promotions or at least have others believe their hype, having never earned their worthiness. Black people are doomed and they deserve it because they
decided to throw away any hope of a reality they could have earned just for the fact that they couldn't resist the temptation to steal what they could never earn honestly. With infantile demands and brute force. "He who lives by the sword, shall die by the sword". They are going extinct by design and they only have themselves to blame. Those who hate the truth have never and will never have any communion with me. It's funny to me because I was always excluded from the Blacks and didn't know that they had/have some rule about their Mommas. Since My Mother wasn't MY Mother and everyone elses, this shared sentiment was/is incomprehensible to me. I recall when the song I Always Love MY Momma was playing. My Mother asked me if I loked the song and I answered "yes". She didn't ask why because they never ask why. It wasn't the lyrics O liked, it was the melody. I didn't have the Mother in the song who loved her child and worked hard to provide for him. That was someone elses reality and not mine, but it didn't stop me from liking t he song and I think my Mother thought that I would always love her, no matter how badly she treated me and instigated conflicts between myself and o thers she can slander me to. I was listening to it was on my white transitor radio. My Uncle George (*more about him and him being the only man that was ever Fatherly to me) gave me for my birthday. It was one of the few gifts I've ever received. My Mother used to try and ignore my birthday deliberately. My half sisters would remind her so she could bake a cake. Then she'd add insult to injury by sending me to the store to buy the ice cream. No matter howmuch I would tell her that it was not neccessaty, she would go thro ugh this ritual simply to degrade and remind me that she hated me. I would think how she must have felt being stuck with me when she'd tried to mur der me. I would think about how the authorities hated me because they gave me back to th e woman who tried to murder me in the first place. We had cake all of the time and it wasn't special. She would set it up this way so when they reminded her she could make faces and express how much of a bother baking a cake suddenly became. To try and degrade me and remind me that my birth didn't work out for her the way she had wanted, HER disappointment, as though being trapped with those violent retards was some sort of a dream come true for me. I just thought it was comical for them to think I knew any of their (Black peopl e rules) rules They rejected me and never included me in any of their "Black" alliances or plans, etc. I think they were silly to assume that I would ever consider them or any of the others as an option for anything, especially companionship. I'm glad that I was rejected so often and so thoroughly because if I hadn't then I would have never experienced real love when I was eight years old. The love of Jesus which is genuine and sustains me. I'm an idealist and a realist simultaneously and if there were no God I would ha ve had to make up one and I wouldn't have been able to come up with one as magni ficent as the True, Living God. I haven't the words to express how great I think he is and I had to show my Love for him in the only way I could, by committing myself to him forever.