I'm sorry. You were the first. You just wanted to live in peace, but the abuse trickled downhill to the least strong, least able to defend. My sister and brother and I all had our moments when we lashed out at you. I watched my sister hold you by the tail and whip you against the wall. I watched my brother shoot you with homemade nail darts. After one particular beating, my parents left me at home alone and I hunted you through the trailer, fully intending to make you hurt as bad as I hurt. I picked you up but I could barely lift you, and I was too small to pound your skull against the wall. You resisted my grip and kept turning your head to avoid the paneling. I finally sat down with you in my arms and cried, and you purred and purred, most likely from stress and fear. You eventually wriggled away from me and hid the rest of the day. Later that night, I woke up to find you on the pillow, curled around my head and directing a menacing rumble at the blurry shadow in the doorway. You taught me to have a conscience, to feel remorse for causing pain. You deserved a better life than what you got, living with my family. You died when I was nine years old, and I was devastated. I cared more for you than any human I knew.
Now for you. You were the smaller one of twin Siamese cats who knew sign language, but I loved you best. You never learned to meow, and tapped me with your paw when you wanted something. I tried to remember what the first one taught me, but sometimes it was hard to control the pain and anger that welled up from inside. One night, after a beating and a cold shower for wetting the bed, I found you in my room and kicked your head into the box spring. You lay there, stunned, and your left eye welled up with what I thought was a tear. I felt so ashamed and evil that I wanted to die. I cradled you in my arms and begged you to stay alive, begged you to forgive me. Since that night, I have never lashed out at an animal. Years later, when it came time for you to die of old age, you crawled up to my old room and lay on my bed. You died on my 19th birthday. I'm sorry for hurting you, for leaving, for everything.
And the last. I had the best of intentions. I rescued you from an abusive home and promised to take care of you. You were a one-person creature and dared anyone else in the house to hurt me. You growled and hissed at everyone but me, and wouldn't let anyone get near me. They didn't know what to do with you, or me. When I finally ran away for good, I made arrangements to get you back once I got settled. They put an ad in the paper, and gave you to a pet store within two weeks of me leaving. They sent me a picture of you and a clipping of their ad from the newspaper. Every night, I had nightmares about you ending up in a bad home. I still think of you, and hope you had the luck to land a good home. I wanted you, but all you knew is that I left you. You were the reason I could never bring myself to give up my children for adoption. The social workers told me it would be for the best, but I knew I was to weak to survive another lifetime of wondering. I'm sorry.
To the one I'll never have to apologize to: the first one taught me kindness, the second one taught me empathy, and the last one taught me responsibility. Unfortunately, I learned these lessons by failing them. I picked you out from a crowd of strays at the humane society, a few years back. You have the first one's whip-tail and attitude, the second one's wedge-head and paw-tapping, and the third one's possessiveness and mean streak. You have your own singular charms, that look suspiciously like the opposite of charms when viewed from certain angles (pretty much all of them). A ghost cat murmured in your ear one morning and I woke up to a pounce and a scratch that bisected my left nostril down to my lower lip. I wake up every day at 6am and feed you, or wake up with a face full of cat butt. I love the unlovable you, because once upon a time some cats loved the unlovable me and made me human.
I'm sorry to everyone I have ever been inadvertently rude or snarky to. Sorry about making you feel stupid or being dismissive or short with you or just ignoring you just because I was distracted or spacing out or just uncomfortable. I've recently come to realize that not everybody 'gets' quiet people, and that keeping to yourself or listening and observing rather than joining the conversation or just sitting in a corner and reading a book can make me seem snobby or antisocial, but really I'm just a quiet person who likes books. I'm sorry that by hanging out on the porch by myself all night I made you think that I didn't like you or thought your party was boring, it's just that there were too many people and too much noise and I just felt like hiding. I'm sorry that I made you feel like I'd rather stare off into space than talk to you. I'm sorry for all the times I made some sarcastic comment at your expense because I cared more about proving that I was the wittiest person in the room than the possibility that I'd hurt your feelings. I'm sorry for all the things I say that just come out, because that's the way I am, that upset you even though that's the last thing I want to do. I'm sorry if my weird humor or esoteric references made you feel alienated. I'm sorry for being insensitive and self-absorbed. I'm sorry for being just so damn strange. I'm sorry for acting like being smart makes it okay to be mean, because it doesn't.
i can fix
spam than maps
around the sedro-wolley family band
with rupert randolf and jewel on me in hand
a bumbershoot flipside with f.p.s. tags
silver screen the way the crowley beems
juggling galleys like alleys and scenes
free ice creams
lactose the same k-pentase greens
styrophoam tides and stranger scenes
and the lo-cal decalitre greens
seventy-six on nine liter leans
muddling cotton gins with grins and fiends
tuarine out the spleen / rye as popcycle leeds
yeah im on a drug its called swimming tweens
new ERA with decimal stiching tweets
sterjons lost ups stream and pissing tweed
anemic scratches catch wishes and pipe organs missing
firecackers how pip bare stock optionetics dripping ......
i wanna be like horrorcoredrippop dishing like horrorcoredriphop phishing !!!
It's not your opinion that I have problems with, as I said, and a lot of it wasn't even you. It's not that you agree with the Tar Sands pipeline and you just want to go to D.C. to see D.C. (and no, RA, it's not that my Roommate can't afford it- if they wanted it bad enough, they would ask their grandparents-more on that later-) It's that everything is adding up and I miss my family so incredibly much and I'm really really jealous that you get to go see your family, and I'm also incredibly jealous of your grandparents who will send you money unasked for anything you need when my family can barely spare enough to pay for their own cable and there is no way they can fly me back home for a short four day break and also the fact that you know your grandparents and more than just your immediate family. It's also that I worked three times today and you said you'd work but you didn't (and you usually do that, don't you). And just in general you're starting to frustrate me the more with you and also I feel in general like everyone likes you so much better than they do me and that I'm always second best and I know that sounds selfish, but I just want someone who likes me best and I guess that means I want a significant other but I don't know and I miss being around people who like having me around and don't just tolerate me and who I know that with.
And let's be honest here; some of it is you: you always deal with situations like they're the fault of other people that you have to deal with, even though they're of your own making. And you wouldn't give me five freaking minutes to gather myself together when I had the presence of mind to ask for them in a stressful situation, which then caused me to walk half way around campus, crying to myself, until I could muster up the courage to come back and grab my phone, crying all the while, and have one person notice, ask if I was okay, and then walk away when I sobbed in response.
And really, Roommate, that's the heart of the matter: you wouldn't give me five minutes in our room to deal with myself, and you made me collapse into at least four crying fits and three almost-hyperventilations, all at a time when I am sick.
So I'm sorry if I spoke sharply and upset you, I wish you would realize that some things aren't okay with me, and that I need time to figure things out.
P.S. this is long and rambling and makes mostly no sense, but it's to make me feel better, so please, no judgements- I've had enough of those today.
Sometimes I can hurt the most important person in my life, I really hate myself for that, and I never used to do it with the aim of that. It's too spontaneous and unexpected as usually. But I never meant to hurt you.
Sorry for arguing with my mother. She's as usually is right, but I sometimes am not enough tolerant and too aggressive and expressive, so cannot control myself. And that's really bad. Even through it's not a common situation.
Sorry for being late every time and everywhere. For being a lazy bone.
and for lots of other things...
Самый интересный ответ на подобный вопрос я услышал от моего бывшего соседа:
"Хочу чтобы мой тру кинули в лесу и его сожрали животные-падальщики"
А если говорить о себе, то я хотел бы, чтобы меня кремировали, а после развеяли со скалы над морем.
Может кому то будет интересна такая притча о смерти :)
Так что "похороны" будут проходить как некий радостный ритуал, когда ты выпиваешь какой-нибудь "эликсир", бездыханно падаешь на руки родственникам, которые без сожаления сожгут твоё тело, а душа твоя уносится... куда-нибудь, где так же хорошо и ты снова молодой)))
Except I am. Or I was, at least.
There are people from my high school who will swear, in all seriousness, I was the anti-christ. Do I feel bad? Not in the slightest. I never have. Because I felt justified.
THAT is the problem.( Collapse )
I think he saw something the night the petpad moved from his strange reaction to it. he was always drawn to lay by the picture of Jesus when on the floor. Sometimes I think the spiritual entity entered into him from some of the way he behaves...who knows for sure? Just ideas that come to me at times.
we've both been through more shit than we deserve.
but unlike you, i chose to put even more on you by being a selfish bitch.
I lived with my ex in a "haunted" house in Glendale. It's not exciting as it sounds - the occurrences were few and far enough between that it didn't really bother me..... it was rather interesting, actually. We lived with his aunt, whose husband had died in that house. I never actually SAW anything, but she told me that she believed she was being haunted by her husband. This woman was not insane, or mentally unstable, but I didn't believe her initially. Back in those days I was an atheist, and I was VERY skeptical of anything spiritual or paranormal. But things would happen that I couldn't really explain, that never happened anywhere else in the same way, and these things also happened to my ex and his aunt as well. When I was in the laundry room, I often felt a presence behind me. You know when you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck and arms? I would spin around, expecting to see my ex or his aunt, but there was never anything there. The feeling was VERY uncanny and eerie. Also, I would regularly get locked in my room - the door wasn't stuck (we oiled it regularly to prevent that), and the lock was never turned. I would pull as hard as I could on that doorknob, and it wouldn't budge. That alarmed me a bit, but after a while I learned to just wait to be let out, which I would be eventually. I also saw "shadow people" out of the corners of my eyes, which was also a little unsettling. Can't blame the drugs, because I had never done any at that point. My dreams were extremely vivid in that house as well. Eventually I found myself talking to whatever MIGHT be in the house, and I got the distinct impression something was listening.
Anyway, that's my my possibly ridiculous paranormal experience. Never had another like it. Don't know what it really was. I'm sure there's an explanation, but I will probably never know it.
Remember that day in the 4th grade when you said that I didn't have sharp nails? And just to prove it I clawed you until you bled? Yeah, it was worth the call home to my parents (and possible detention / suspension, I forget).
Gosh, no wonder I take great care to manage my anger .....sheesh....
А сожжение на огромном костре.
При этом должна играть музыка нейтрального эмоционального фона, что-то типа чилл-аута - пусть все расслабятся :-) У присутствующих должны быть улыбки на устах, банановый коктейль в руках и мысли о том, что так надо, потому сегодняшний день - праздник.
А если при этом кто-то ещё и молитву произнесёт, то я бы его отблагодарил ...но я уже буду догорать.
А закапывание трупов в землю - кощунство. А вдруг человек там очнётся от летаргического сна!
В общем, зачем портить землю ядом, который образуется при разложении тела? Да и кладбища - это же, блин, гектары, тысячи гектаров площади, на которой можно выращивать пищу, но нет, лучше пусть там гниют остатки родственников, что бы было куда придти и поплакать несколько раз в год. Только для чего?! О_о Если человек умер - его нужно отпустить и просто помнить.
Sometimes you hurt someone so badly or do so much damage that an apology will never be enough. Nothing ever will be.
Focusing in the love we all look for aka our one TRUE love, our one, Mr Right, etc. Well, I believe it depends on who we hang out with and then fate will put hands on "business". Though in the end, it depends on our choice.
I'm sorry I laughed at you that time you got diarrhea at Barnes & Nobles. And I'm sorry for telling everyone about it. And I'm sorry for repeating it now.
I've apologized to you before. And I wasn't forgiven.
I understand it's because I've hurt you terribly and because you trusted me with your whole heart. I'm a horrible person, I know.
I really regret that I've ever hurt you or made you feel the things you did when I opened my mouth and decided to say the things I did. I want you to know that you were one of the closest friends that I've ever had. I loved you so much - I would have done anything for you. I would have taken on the pain and shame that you experienced throughout high school just to let you go on living properly.
I'm sorry for everything I've done. I love you. I really hope that everything will be okay with you. You're a wonderful person, you know? You're talented. You're such an amazing artist! I hope you go far in life.
I really hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Even more, I hope that you are happy.
Im sorry that I never really thanked you for everything you did for me. You were probably one of the most influential people in my life, and you never even knew it. You helped shape me into the person i am today. You helped me through every single middle school problem, and i wasnt always as nice to you as i should have been. I hope that one day we will talk again, because to be honest, i miss having someone as reliable and comforting as you were to be able to talk to everyday, about anything, and everything, even if i was just bored. I miss playing club penguin with you and your cousins, and going ice skating, and all the fun times we used to have together. Im sorry for losing you. Im sorry for hurting you Im sorry for the way i acted. I hope you are doing well, with all sincerity, and maybe one day we will be friends again. You deserve only the best things in life.
Josh, I'm sorry I wasn't nicer to you. I know you had a crush on me, but I just didn't feel the same way. I wish I had known how to be kinder about it. I hope you are well today.
Liz, I can understand now how what I said then makes me seem like an absolutely racist A-hole. And a really mean self-serving person too. And I will never be able to apologize enough. I am so so profoundly sorry. You were one of my very best friends. And I miss you all the time.
Кто, блядь, придумывает эти вопросы??!
When I injure somebody, it's either on purpose after they've pushed me too far and injured me several times, and thus it falls under the category of self-defense, or I do it unintentionally, which I always apologize for.
My karmic 'meanie' slate is pretty clean. I like to keep it that way.
Гроб качается хрустальный..." (А.С.Пушкин) Прочитав в детстве эти строки,грезила о хрустальном гробе.Теперь понимаю,что это несбыточная мечта,но уже и не очень хочется.
When I was living in this really old house I woke to the feeling of someone twerling my hair around there fingers. I lived there alone. Another time I was half asleep watching tv on the couch and heard a man yell "Is there anybody up here!" It was so loud and startaling that I sat strait up yelling "YES there is!" and got up to go see who was braking into my house! There was no one there. It was cool. I had a ghost hunt on Halloween.
Люди попадают в катастрофы, тонут в море, сгорают в огне. Разве имеет значение, что происходит с их телами, если их души уже отлетели?
Важнее то, что будет с душой. Куда она полетит и что ей предстоит? Этот вопрос волнует очень. Страха нет, есть желание "заглянуть за грань". Ты знаешь что правильно, а что нет. Но в данный момент ты можешь поступить лишь так, а не иначе. Только на это у тебя сейчас есть моральные силы. Ты грешишь и каешься. Понимаешь, но совершаешь поступок.
Преклоняюсь перед людьми, способными на самоотречение. Какая сила духа присутствует в них!
Or the times i DID mean to.
At times like that I probably didn´t quite realize what effect this might have on the persons I was saying the stuff to. Or I might have realized it but didn´t really care either way.
There have been a lot of instances where I wished I didn´t say anything at all, but when I try to remember them now...I don´t feel anything.
Time heals wounds, time healed my regret as well, sadly I know that I´m too hotheaded to change this so I can only plead to the people that know me and talk to me a lot...
You know I love you guys and I don´t mean to hurt any of you.
(If you don't know that by now then why the heck are you still hanging around me?!)
I'm truly sorry for breaking your heart like that.
I'm sorry that i couldn't fall in love with you, and that i couldn't just tell you that's just the way it is instead of cheating on you.
I know that the biggest pain is the one caused by your heart, and that is the reason I will never forgive myself either.
I wish you a lot of luck in the future, you deserve it. Love and be loved.
Sincerely yours, Michelle.
У нас, в Харькове, есть фонтан Зеркальная струя и там по бокам клумбочки они смотрят на оперный театр, место в центре, вот проходили бы там друзья и вспоминали бы меня. и не надо на кладбище ездить.
( Collapse )-Nessa
I hurt a girl at school, her name was Becky she was the lowest in the pecking order we were second lowest me and my two friends.
So we picked her on occasion like the other kids picked on us and her called her names chased her as I was often chased. I regret not helping her and standing up against them togeather. Anouther girl at my school did Laura, there aren't so many ppl that I would say were nicer than her, then again she was popular and at no risk of been beaten by her fellows.
I knew at the time it was wrong just not to the same level not to the same level which would of put me in the same boat as her... as all the kids tied her up in the middle of the playground and laughted at her, I just stood there sliently, I knew it was wrong but felt helpless to help her.
I'm in a really regressive mood tonight, my head is pounding and everything feels dark.
сжечь в обязательном порядке, чтобы ни одна сволочь не смогла потоптаться на моей могиле. и вообще - что за традиция такая закапывать мертвое тело: оно, бедняжка, лежит, разлагается, муравьи ползают, червяки грызут, все гниет - некрасиво! поэтому куй с ним, с христианским воскрешением - сжечь и все тут!
A long time ago. it was a dark and stormy Pennsic. Therains came like they often do at Pennsic, amid a flurry of rumours pronouncing the oncoming rain as either the end of the world or going to miss us entirely, and always somehow a surprise. This one lived up to the first category. So i dove for the nearest shelter as i was wearing something nice for once GASP AND SHOCK! but i tell you this true! and therein i found a party going on. The camp was well protected from the rains and LO even with this i could WALK FREELY ABOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!! I tell you this is quite a true story! Stop with your withering gaze and rolled eyes of disbelief i tell you this is all true and the scotsman named Angus cna verify this! And there i was in this Party where one could wander freely. and i went forth to sate my sudden thirst and i found Three Options for NOT ALCOHOL! and they were not different temperatures of water either but TRUE beverages. and there upon as i drank my fill of delicious tea i spotted a belly dancer. A MALE DANCER! and there were no crowds around him and he did not do Poi! Indeed this fine fellow had talents! and let me say was very easy on the eyes. I watched his performance and something at once struck me odd and otherworldly. the drummers knew more than three tunes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Suddenly i began to question my own sanity! and then i knew i had to be in some other world filled with fae creatures when several women got up to preform and were not dressed like Harem Hooker Barbie! they had on fine outfits that covered them well and we not festooned with every jingly contrivance! YES I AM TELLING THE TRUTH! STOP LOOKING AT ME SUCH AND MAKING RUDE PANTOMIME BEHIND ME! Oh there talents were amazing. I stayed what seemed hours nay days. there was also food in abundance that was not doritios and other such party food nor was it some weak soup. indeed there upon i feasted on lamb and venison and wild rice and herbed to make one sing. eventually i knew i had to leave and so i bid my hosts good night and left. the warmth of the entire evening protected me from the ravages of weather and i made it safe back to my tent. When i woke the next burning day i tried to find the camp again but i could not. and when i spoke of the party none would believe. all said they had not heard of such a thing and they had only known of Pentwyvern goes to hell or something about lost boys. But i tell you true that such a place existed that night.
Also my Grandmother appeared to me in the hallway when i was like 8 and told me goodbye. i thought this odd since she never really came out to our place and went to tell my parents. a few minutes later we got the call from her husband that she had just died for a massive heart attack.
My mom, brother and me got around to talking about ghosts and our house and realized that we had seen the same one going from the kitchen to the wash room. Though I've only seen him once, I still remember what he looks likes. And my mom said that she has seen a child going back and forth from her closet and a woman walking out of her room.
I'm positive there's one in my room. I've seen her once, like out of the corner time seeing and once when I was in the middle of sleep paralysis. I've never been so scared of my room before that. Also, there may be something in our bathroom. 90% of the time I go in there I get the feeling that someone is watching me. Makes me creeped out to go in there sometimes.
Things also seem to keep dying in my niece's room. Like a hamster and a dog. (I was mostly taking care of the hamster so it wasn't neglect or anything, and it wasn't old. And I'm not sure about the dog. He was a stray that we had saved.)
Конечно что нет, мое тело потдасца тщательному анализу, и его расчеплят на мильйони атомов, и с помощью ускорителя частиц просеют через молекулярную сетку. После детерминации соединительного потока я опять оживу.
Цитируя Бааль Сулама: "Мне все равно, где закопают мой мешок с костями". Просто напишите на этом месте, где он будет лежать, то, что хотела Сабина Шпильрайн: I Too Was A Human Being.
Then there was the ghost cat that slept at my sisters feet for awhile.
Then there was the night we both "dreamed" of a ladder being raised against the house. She looked, I kept my eyes closed.
I have also had dreams with people who've passed.
A few days after my grandmother died, I went to my mom's house where I saw my aunt and mother sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table. I kept staring at the two of them, trying not to let on that I was in shock. I honestly, actually, truly saw my grandmother's face superimposed on both my mom's and aunt's faces. I couldn't even see my mom's or aunt's face at all!
Someone told me that it's common to see someone or feel his or her presence soon after the person dies. So, that's pretty interesting.
I'd also like to add that about five years later, shortly before something rather traumatic happened to me, I had a dream of my grandmother saying, "Don't worry; everything will be all right."
My hometown just outside N.O.LA was an island. It was -- during the civil war -- a plantation. When I was in elementary school many of us saw an apparition of a hanged union soldier on the middle of the three huge live oaks on the playground. Soon after they cut the tree down. THEN there was an apparition of the tree with the hanging soldier. Ya just can't get a good civil war haint down.
I have experienced such encountrer with gost several times but when i read islamic verses gost leaves me unharmed.....i am a muslin and i have full faith on islam and All mighty Allah......
Now, being from a small town in Indiana means that I was raised in a rather no-nonsense way. We don't go to doctors unless we're dying; if we can't fix it, we probably know someone who can; and if something weird happens, it's because "you let the devil in." That cuts down on arguments considerably, as you might imagine. People don't like admitting they're wrong, so when you're about to prove them wrong, they pull out "you let the devil in." But there's a cure for that, and it, too, is often found in Indiana--blunt honesty. It comes in many forms: "Just because I'm making you look stupid doesn't mean I let the devil in. It means you're stupid," or, "Stop being such a self-righteous prick." I've taken blunt honesty and made it my own. I am renowned for being both socially unskilled and unwilling to suffer fools lightly.
A week or so after having moved back into our house, I started getting the feeling I was being watched. As I come from a long line of paranoid individuals, I checked the windows once or twice and shrugged it off. I didn't quite apply the same dismissal when friends refused to stay the night twice and one reported that she'd spent the whole night awake because she was freaked out by the feeling of being watched. I told my father, but he ignored it until eventually, he snapped at me that I was "letting the devil in". I gave him a look of absolute disbelief and made it a point to stay elsewhere when possible. Soon, I discovered why, however. He nearly begged me to come back. He said he missed me, but he looked more than a little frightened, and I remembered that the feeling of being watched was particularly notable when I was home alone. It likely didn't help that about this time, things had worsened and while we were in other rooms, we could hear stuff being dropped or even thrown in the kitchen. One time, I even heard glass breaking. Oddly, there was no broken glass in the kitchen. There was nothing on the floor any of the times we checked. While this merely amused me, it brought my father to new levels of paranoia.
A while passed with the feeling of being watched lessening and the sound of objects being thrown and dropped increased until it started to fade, as well. I was relieved, at first, because while I may be a no-nonsense type and was amused at the sounds, it was nice to have the house back to normal.
Yeah. That didn't last long.
As the sounds seemed ready to cease altogether, the... "presence," I guess I'll call it, seemed to target me again. When I was alone at home, which was actually quite often, I would hear the sound of footsteps in the hall, moving towards the end opposite that of the kitchen. The kitchen was on one end and the other end had the bathroom on the right, the second bedroom (my father's) on the left, and less well-known, an attic entrance up above. Until this point, I had been sleeping in my dad's room because we slept at opposite times, he was at work, and he has more pillows than any unmarried man should rightly own. The feeling of being watched had come back, however, and though it originated only in the hall, this time, there is no doorknob in my dad's door. Instead, there's a nice, gaping hole where a doorknob should be. Also, having footsteps sound out up the hall until they stop right outside your door, when you're home alone, is beyond creepy.
Needless to say, going to the bathroom was now an event that happened, when possible, when Dad was home because that was the only time the footsteps didn't sound out.
Dad was aware of this, peripherally. When he got home, I ran into the bathroom. And I'd make him wait to leave until I was done. He started ignoring my request that he wait to leave until I was done. This lasted maybe a week because within a week, there was a particularly memorable time where slow, steady footsteps started moving down the hall while I was in the bathroom. I grabbed my phone and called Dad. I asked him if he was home, and annoyed, he answered snidely that he wasn't. He asked why I'd asked, and I told him I'd heard someone walk down the hall. He came home immediately because he thought maybe someone had broken in, but when he found no one, he contemplated aloud if they'd left. Knowing that his explanation was a complete fabrication to sooth his own mind, I snorted and said something to the effect of, "No, it was the ghost. Again." I then told him point-blank that the door wasn't busted in, the windows weren't busted in, all the windows were locked, and the footsteps had been clear as day. I went further and informed him that he would start taking this seriously because I was not lying, I was not being dramatic, and I was rather furious that he would get so freaked out at being alone at home and then leave me alone for all but a few hours of the day. With some reluctance, he conceded.
A week or two after that, I sucked it up and stood in front of the hall. "Look," I said, "I'm sorry. I don't know why you're here, but you're kind of freaking me and Dad out, and I'd like it if you left off, a bit. At least stop the creepy footsteps down the hall thing." I believe I also told it that my friends and I often got the feeling of being watched, and we didn't like that much. After that, it let up. There were absolutely no more sounds of footsteps down the hall. Sometimes, there was a noise like something falling in the kitchen, but never when Dad was there. My friends would stay the night more than once. I still sometimes get the feeling I'm being watched, but it's pretty rare. Things resolved themselves pretty quickly when I decided to act in the way I am best known for.
My grandmother on my dad's side of the family has been dead for seeral years now. Since I've been attending church at UIS on Sundays, learning about my spirituality growth, my grandmother is an angel who sometimes comes to me when I'm sleeping- I know God has sent her. I she comes, I can feel an extra presence in the room. Her presence is super strong, and she has a way of letting me know that things ill get better with whatever may be getting me down.
я за кремацию
our CIO called an all hands meeting and actually had lucid thoughts and intelligent dialogue ... I was mesmerized by whatever spirit or alien being had taken him over, and wished with all my heart for it to remain permanently ... alas it was not to be, for a short 30 days later, we had our CIO back without being possessed as he droned on in politico speak using buzzwords (and doing that badly) and offering thoughts and observations that had less value than what I scoop from my cat's litterbox
but for that 1 day in 3 years, he was a gleaming beacon of hope
so it had to be some sort of supernatural intervention
All the time 2-3times a week my relatives from the past come say hello or people who resided on my
property prior to me owning my home. Its all good. This earth is a stepping stone for what is instore for us.
Sometimes its scary then sometimes my great gma is just sitting on my bed helping me fall a sleep like in the old days. Embrace dont exclude the unknown
You're a stupid, limp-wristed jackoff with the morals of street whore and the arrogance of a spoiled child. If I'm sorry about anything, its that I never bashed in your head with a baseball bat that was on fire.