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Self-Censorship

Today, I am grateful for self-censorship.
 
 
 
I was a bad girl today. 
 
Some guy was screaming in my face after I learned he stole several thousands of dollars from me.  He got a little too close and I smacked him out of fear.  I gave him a black eye.  Well, it wasn't a black eye.  My enchanted ring bruised his eyelid. 
 
He is stalking me and he is hinting at harassing two men I know.  One is an ex.  One is a friend.  I'm terrified of this guy. 
 
I never want to see him again.  He wants me to be his partner.  I want a restraining order.
 
I feel incredibly guilty for smacking him.  So, I've decided to curb my sharp tongue and my anger.  I'm going to censor myself. 
 
 
So, I'm kinda sad about my self-censorship but in retrospect I think it is going to help me get a good night's sleep. 
 
There is this cutie I know on Facebook.  He eschews alcohol.  So, when I posted the following picture, he thought it was a slam. 
 
 
I told him it was not a bad thing.  Many of my friends are wine tasters.  I am not a wine taster because I like to swallow. 
 
I deleted the comment after I realized it was an invitation. 
 
I can't be near men until my stalker gets arrested. 
 
I can't be alone with men until I find out why I hit someone bellowing in my face and minimizing how his stalking is hurting me.  It's not funny and it's going to get someone killed. 
 
Why can't he or his proxies stalk my prostitute sister?  Huh?  Why can't they look down the barrel of her pimp's rifle?
 
Maybe I need to go hang out near a less savory crowd.  That'll stop it in a hurry. 
 
I could start volunteering at the local prison.  Maybe that would do the trick.  Would they stalk me there? 
 
I feel like human garbage for hitting someone who hits the walls, my tables and bellows at me for hours on end. 
 
There is no excuse. 
 
If the cops can't help me, maybe a lawyer can.  Hanging with a lawyer is probably as unsavory as it gets.   
 
Love ya,
 
S. 
 


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