I am a "pathetic, crazy, schizo, whitey monkey, teatsucker, motherfucker, chicken, 0 credibility alkie who swills drinks with sperm" and everyone from family to strangers would rather me dead, non-existent and/or coming down with double pneumonia and an incurable case of tuberculosis at a shelter or barefoot and homeless in front of a seven eleven where I cannot enter to buy a hot dog due to bare feet on Christmas Day when my family is gorging on lamb from what I see on Facebook pictures.
Then, I am asked for a "date and time" over the phone of when I am going to kill myself to being threatened with eviction as in "I am thinking of evicting you" in favor of some irrational, postpartum, depressed, tenant mother who calls police and DHHS on me having done nothing but save the apartment house from tenants almost burning it down over the years, collecting rents as super over eight years from hell tenants who count four twenties into $100 and then say "I thought that they were $25 bills ..."
... not to mention pill dealing tenants, the tenant who accused me of stealing heat as heat rises because I lived in the above apartment and the tenant who accused me of going into their apartment and masturbating on the floor because her dog puked saliva on the floor to which she says that her dog does not puke.
Then, there was the tenant whose toilet leaked caca when I wanted to have it fixed by calling a plumber, the 5,000 flies in the apartment house due to 1915 pipes in the walls and a myriad of other bad experiences for which I bore the brunt of blame.
When I wanted to transfer control of the rents to a professional manager after eight years as super and was scolded for not doing my job in an email from family, I hung myself with a rope in the back staircase having lost all hope of any self esteem or support.
I have not even included the event wherein a tenant stated thus to me: "I am going to fuck you, fuck your family and god is going to get you," when I raised $850 cash just for that tenant to leave and never come back here.
It was June 11, 2008 when I was released from the hospital after hanging myself May 29, 2008, cut down from the rope, approved for SSDI after a two day, court ordered review (blue papered) and quit both my jobs as super of the house and at a nearby university as a $12/hr. technician.
And, the above rants are not even the half of my problems with people in my fifteen years living here in New England having been questioned 34 times in fifteen years by police: once having the police called on me for drinking a soda pop out of a paper bag on a stoop the day of the Boston Marathon 2013.
The best time I have ever had in my life was living in my truck on the West Coast between 1993 and 1996 where and when I was diagnosed "schizophrenia." People are much more easy going out there: not like here on the East Coast, the Capital of Assholes!
I may just be well inclined with my reinforced stigma rant that this post is to take up residence under the bridge over I-95 where homeless people shit and give everyone their wish by slitting my own throat under the bridge over I-95 without any rescue possibility other than a State crematorium.
I imagine that the world will be a better place for others if I go under the bridge over I-95 and do just that! In fact, there may even be celebrations of my self destruction. I imagine that people will be dancing in the street when I am dead due to peoples' treatment of me as a pariah because I am diagnosed "schizophrenia" and thus: must obviously hear voices 24/7/365 and have "0 credibility" as a result.
In short: from the things that I am told by family, so-called friends and strangers due to my diagnosis of "schizophrenia" being known throughout the vicinity wherein I live ... the things that I am told by family, so-called friends and strangers make me want to slit my throat under the bridge over I-95 where homeless people shit as I am no better than shit in myriad peoples' eyes other than in the eyes of nursing home and children's ward residents whom I visit with my pet therapy dog.
Were it not for adopting my dog and cat and visiting the nursing homes and children's wards with my pet therapy dog, I would most certainly give my family, so-called friends and strangers their wish for me to slit my throat under the bridge over I-95 because people in my life other than people in nursing homes, children's wards, my dog, my cat and animals in general make me feel like killing myself.
Then, I am asked for a "date and time" over the phone of when I am going to kill myself to being threatened with eviction as in "I am thinking of evicting you" in favor of some irrational, postpartum, depressed, tenant mother who calls police and DHHS on me having done nothing but save the apartment house from tenants almost burning it down over the years, collecting rents as super over eight years from hell tenants who count four twenties into $100 and then say "I thought that they were $25 bills ..."
... not to mention pill dealing tenants, the tenant who accused me of stealing heat as heat rises because I lived in the above apartment and the tenant who accused me of going into their apartment and masturbating on the floor because her dog puked saliva on the floor to which she says that her dog does not puke.
Then, there was the tenant whose toilet leaked caca when I wanted to have it fixed by calling a plumber, the 5,000 flies in the apartment house due to 1915 pipes in the walls and a myriad of other bad experiences for which I bore the brunt of blame.
When I wanted to transfer control of the rents to a professional manager after eight years as super and was scolded for not doing my job in an email from family, I hung myself with a rope in the back staircase having lost all hope of any self esteem or support.
I have not even included the event wherein a tenant stated thus to me: "I am going to fuck you, fuck your family and god is going to get you," when I raised $850 cash just for that tenant to leave and never come back here.
It was June 11, 2008 when I was released from the hospital after hanging myself May 29, 2008, cut down from the rope, approved for SSDI after a two day, court ordered review (blue papered) and quit both my jobs as super of the house and at a nearby university as a $12/hr. technician.
And, the above rants are not even the half of my problems with people in my fifteen years living here in New England having been questioned 34 times in fifteen years by police: once having the police called on me for drinking a soda pop out of a paper bag on a stoop the day of the Boston Marathon 2013.
The best time I have ever had in my life was living in my truck on the West Coast between 1993 and 1996 where and when I was diagnosed "schizophrenia." People are much more easy going out there: not like here on the East Coast, the Capital of Assholes!
I may just be well inclined with my reinforced stigma rant that this post is to take up residence under the bridge over I-95 where homeless people shit and give everyone their wish by slitting my own throat under the bridge over I-95 without any rescue possibility other than a State crematorium.
I imagine that the world will be a better place for others if I go under the bridge over I-95 and do just that! In fact, there may even be celebrations of my self destruction. I imagine that people will be dancing in the street when I am dead due to peoples' treatment of me as a pariah because I am diagnosed "schizophrenia" and thus: must obviously hear voices 24/7/365 and have "0 credibility" as a result.
In short: from the things that I am told by family, so-called friends and strangers due to my diagnosis of "schizophrenia" being known throughout the vicinity wherein I live ... the things that I am told by family, so-called friends and strangers make me want to slit my throat under the bridge over I-95 where homeless people shit as I am no better than shit in myriad peoples' eyes other than in the eyes of nursing home and children's ward residents whom I visit with my pet therapy dog.
Were it not for adopting my dog and cat and visiting the nursing homes and children's wards with my pet therapy dog, I would most certainly give my family, so-called friends and strangers their wish for me to slit my throat under the bridge over I-95 because people in my life other than people in nursing homes, children's wards, my dog, my cat and animals in general make me feel like killing myself.
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