I feel the hot anger rush in and out of my chest. The feel of bother and dumb. The dumb of having been plagiarized and the hatred of seeing the credit a plagiarist may get. Meaning I am stalked stupidly by a pervert who has an I.Q lower than a grape. Or some other food that they could add to a short list of foods they may not be allergic to. I guess having good things to say happen to those that speak, so I don’t. My work and plagerist , fine keep it.
Last that I remember my ability to articulate my own thoughts and words were mine. I never thought much of control and I could care less for some pervert who thinks he does. Drink or sober I am myself. Feeling my anger dissipate from lack of sober ideas I remember the idea of broke. I wondered if my broke would be the same as “body snatcher” broke. Me drinking may not be the same as say a normal demon or any of the long list of people who have learned this trick. I think I’m my best memory of Charles Lee Ray and I quote”dom be dom Bella give me the power I beg of you” or something similar. My mind wonders as I travel to my next familiar place. I know through experience that fighting and drunk do not always mix. Being able to forgiveness fatal assaults is helpful. This keeping in mind that I must at least think I am neigh invulnerable makes it easier to drink. I go forth, with long swallows of invunerability (neigh).
My long adept ability of shortness of patience has not gone to waste. I am patient but my lack of tolerance makes me irritated quickly. Along with higher intelligence it becomes easy to see when my time is being wasted. I work alone and in private and it bothers me to see other would be vigilantes. My credit is just do and privately so. Feeling the irritation of people bothering my homework and personal habits are a bother. My skill is vastly underrated and I prefer it. I focus on my sober mind and realize it is not far off. As I listen to the nonsensical chatter of harpies. I take not in seeing posers. I know all to well that you harpy dunior and Mandrisco are the culprits. I will never tell them. https://kewlbeerd.com/2019/03/01/mandrisco-strawbowski-and-me/
I look at the symbols in my palm. The Star of David, and I look for it to change. My mind is clearing and the guilt of being drunk sets in. The Star of David is in my right palm. I believe the symbol of the tabernacle is in the left. My anger now is from the frustration of wanting more and not wanting you to be too close. My conviction and dillema, angel or demon, saint or sinner. I find the worry of all of what that may mean. I focus on what has been decided, I notice no change in my palms but I have come to my conclusion.