Rob-world

I didn’t top myself and I’m stilll cat-less, and new iPad-less.  I’m surprised at how much I loved Jaime; I remember, the first few days, when I had to force myself to love her, ‘cause she was slightly stand-offish for a while.  I remember running my hands over her rail-thin body, thinking, over and over, I WILL love this cat; I MUST love this cat.  And soon enough, boy howdy, how I did.  She had never peacefully taken a shit in her life before, always terrorized by other animals ; so she sprayed her shit at first.  I got her a Booda-belll letterbox, and problem solved.  She was happier; her turds solidified and i was happier:   no more mess.  I quickly developed an “us against the world” mentality with her, and it survives through her death.  I feel picked on , by my Trustees. Who I feel, are failing to let me recover control of my finances.  They let me try once, in the very early days of my recovery, and of course I fucked it up. I’ve been suggesting with increasing firmness, they. ...

My life has NEVER fully recovered from what happened halfway through in my  36th year:  1/31/99.  I was gaybashed, and lost all my hard-won autonomy.  Despite all my hard work at recovery, my Trustees won’t return  active control  of my finances to me.  I’’ve NEVER asked for nor wanted full control of my wealth; but right now they , by their actions, trust Butch more than me; which is just fucked up.  They still don’t see fit to give me a credit card,  backed up by the Trust, W HICH I MAY. USE FOR TRAVELLING and for keeping my cognitive gym up to date.  My iPad’s been dead for over a year now so reading is limited or not possible; same with writing, so I dion’t even try anymore.  I live in poorly  painted public housing; I have to have a roach infestation or presence cleared up, every  week.