prison (Photo credit: kIM DARam)
I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish my blog today, but I’m going to try.
I heard the man in apartment 209 call me a “bad woman”. The man, if I can call him a man, comes into my apartment as soon as I leave home. He makes holes all over my walls to allow vermin to get into my apartment. He rips my clothes, steals my food, breaks my furniture. He hits me with electricity, pesticide, puts dirt under my refrigerator to attract roaches into my apartment. He breaks my pots and pans. He comes into my apartment and makes himself at home. But I’m a bad woman. I suppose he considers himself a good man. Really!!! He’s a little girl and should be wearing a dress.
He’s a lowlife, scumbag piece of human waste. He’s a good man and I’m a bad woman!
Why? Because I defend myself when someone is trying to destroy my life?
The piece of human waste who lives next to me should be under police custody. He shouldn’t be walking around free. He’s out-and-out a criminal. If I went into his home and did all the things he does to me, I can assure you all, I’d be in jail right this very moment. What the lowlife is doing to me is a criminal offense. He should be in jail and put away for a long time. He doesn’t deserve to be free. If he feels he can do to me whatever he wants, he really needs to have his head examined.
I think he must be smoking something that changes his sense of reality.
If defending myself is being a bad woman, then be it. I’m a bad woman and proud of it. But he’s definitely not a good man. He’s a criminal and should be in prison. Dirtbag!
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