I went home after Suicide For Hire, knowing that was the biggest punch line they could throw and I passed the test there. I went home wondering if Jason would strike again. All awhile, I used a Roadrunner "Meep! Meep!" cartoon imagery to desensitize myself to the hatred and ill-will that was part of this occurrence. If Jason did anything else, it would be easy to handle.
This was early July.
When I got home, I was still high. I was now menstruating. At one point, I went out in public reeking of menstrual fluid, in my mind to make a statement about the extremity of my stress level. I laughed my head off in my room. Surprise surprise, I was way more secure than I thought I could be, I had just survived an attempt on my life. Now, I had to do a juxtapose dance, juxtaposing any emotional attachment away, separating myself emotionally from Jason.
Jason was determined to force me to commit suicide, but the punch line he had was blown. I can't think anymore or write anymore
That's the problem. This is a situation that I am very proud of, but there is so much trauma involved I can't let my conscious mind focus on it it wants to dart away and my thinking gets jaunty. I can't write this.
I laughed at everything that had ever happened to me. And then I realized, my friendship with Larry the guy downtown was... We might not be on good terms. I addressed that idea, erased it, put it in the back of my mind, and when it came back months later I was ready to deal with it.
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