I’m calling this week, Asian Week. I had so many Asian harassing me this week that it’s not funny. Every time I turn around some Asian person is doing something to me. Just like this morning. I went to the store, again, and I bought some sunflower seeds to feed the birds. The woman seemed exceedingly nervous. I thought it was because someone broke the windows in the store. She was nervous because she purposely left my sunflower seeds out of my bag. I discover that they were missing when I went to feed the birds. The birds all came flying over when I entered the parking lot. I looked in the bag, the sunflowers were not in the bag. So I went back to the store and told them that my sunflower seeds were missing. The Asian woman was in hysterics. I find it odd that she would be laughing. But there she was laughing. She said she put the seeds in my bag. She did not. She called the manager over and the manager told me that I should look in my rolling suitcase because that’s probably where they were. I didn’t even open my suitcase! So I didn’t get my sunflower seeds and I wanted to return what I’d bought. The manager told me that there no refunds just to pick something out at the same price. I walked out of the store. I hope it goes out of business.
And then yesterday, I was by the ATM closing my handbag, and an Asian man went behind me to get one of those wipes that kill germs. The wipes were right in front of me and he could easily have gotten them by standing right in front of the dispenser. I told him off.
And that’s the way my week has been so far with Asians f—–g with me.
Well, I hope China does something that will get the U.S. really angry. Then, I can just see American turn on Asians! China already tried to bump into one of our ships and then went really close to one of our planes. And the pilots complained to the White House about the Chinese f—–g with the plane.
P.S. I’m sure I will have even more Asians after me after writing this.
Hi, everybody. Nothing’s happened to me. I’ve had some week. Cheated out of money from Best Buy and some mom and pop store I went to trying to get my computer fixed. And I wasn’t allowed on the internet. My Trend Micro and Norton anti-virus, what junk, allowed the perp hackers to get into my computer and keep me off the internet. From now, I’m not wasting my time going to anyone to get my computer fixed. I saw what they do.
I went into a mom and pop store and I watched them as they fixed my computer. Fix it? That’s a farce. What they did is put more bugs in my computer. The place I went to had a glass window between the front of the store and the back where the computers get fixed. While the technician (that’s not even a title I should use), it’s more like they’re crooks. While he was fixing my computer, he got a call, I’m sure from government hackers, and he was given a number. As the man on the phone told him the number, he typed the mess into my computer. So you see, we non-technician have no chance in hell of finding an honest techinician. So give up that thought. If you want your computer fixed you’re going to have to fix it yourself, because all they do is nothing!
I managed to get on today, so I don’t long I’ll be able to stay on. I just want to let you know, I’ll keep trying to fix my computer. I miss writing, and it keeps me in touch with other human beings, there aren’t too many of us left.
Anyway, my week has been really horrible. I won’t even go into details. I just got on to let you know that hopefully I’ll abe able to fix my computer and keep my blog going.
Summer’s coming, so the gang stalkers are back to their game of leaving dog poop in the front of my apartment. They want the front of my apartment to attract flies, ants, roaches, etc. I went out this morning and the first thing I see, dog poop in the front of my apartment. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s dog poop, it looks more human than animal. It’s very small and isn’t as dark as regular dog poop. I know you’re probably reading this and getting disgusted. I’m disgusted just writing it. But my blog is like a diary I keep, so I have to write about what happens to me. I never catch who’s doing it. They make sure I’m not around, or are not leaving my apartment before they leave it. Some day I’ll catch them. I think the b—h upstairs put it in front of my apartment. When I stepped out to throw away my garbage she was near my apartment and acted very suspicious. I wondered what she was up to. So I’m pretty sure she did it, but since I didn’t see it, I can’t be 100% sure.
The woman upstairs has been in jail. She once threatened to break my neck. I wrote about this when it happened. What gets me is that they have criminals going after good people. I would bet that 65% of the people who harass us are felons. I think they’re offered time off if they become gang stalkers. Being criminals, they don’t have to get training to do awful things to targets. They already know how to be scumbags. I know the ones that follow me around seem to be criminals. I also noticed that a lot of security guards and military men are gang stalkers. The military men do it because they’ve been told we targets are Americans who can’t be trusted. And they fall right in line with the lies and believe whatever the government tells them. Paradox, isn’t it? The military men fight for Americans’ freedom and come home and join in taking away someone’s freedom. And the security guards are usually people who want to feel important. The security guards feel important beating someone down.
When, oh, when is this crap going to end? The whole week I’ve felt really tired. I have absolutely no energy. I sometimes wonder why we targets stick around? What is the purpose of living this life? It’s a life that’s not at all a joy to live. We can’t love anyone; we have no family; no friends; everywhere we go, people abuse us. We’re blamed for everything that happens. We’re called liars, thieves. Sometimes I wish that I’d go bed and just die.
MTR Before Merging No Spitting Sticker at POA Station (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Do you ever have days when you just feel like giving up? Day after day, the same miserable things happen. You never have a day when you can relax. You just want to go to bed and sleep for a whole week. Your bones can’t take anymore damage. Your whole body aches. You wonder when the gang stalking will end, and if it will ever end. You think another day of the freaks following you around and you’ll turn around and slap one of the idiots. But you know you won’t give in, or slap anyone around, but it’s good to think about it. I’m sure a lot of you feel this way, too.
But you can’t give up, or in. You have to stick around to see the end of gang stalking, because it will end. You want to stick around so you can testify about the treatment you got, and put all the creeps in jail. You have to believe that it will come to pass. Whenever I feel I can’t face another day of gang stalking, I just picture the gang stalkers in prison uniforms (It will make you feel better). I imagine them all lined up in a row, handcuffed and feet shackled. And when they walk, they have to slide their feet in a way that makes them look like monkeys (apologies to monkeys). I keep this image in my mind, and I feel 100% better right away. I also picture myself walking down the row of gang stalkers and spitting in every one of their faces. And as I spit in every one of their faces, they angrily turn, feeling the way I used to feel. Now, tell me you don’t feel better with this image. I know I do. And it will happen, sooner than later, I hope.
And for all of you who think what I wrote is mean, take a walk in my shoes some day.
Is it your home? The gym? Is it in your home? Your journal? Where is the place you are the bravest? When is the time when you are most brave?
There is no place where I am the bravest. Every minute of every hour of every day of every week, I have to be brave. There is no such thing as a minute of my life where I can relax and just be. I never know what will be done to me that requires me to be brave. So I’m always on the edge of being brave. I’m on the ready when the need arises. It’s become part of my DNA.