Monday, January 8, 2018

Pandemonium In Paradise: Part Smm Smm Smm Smm

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

HAIL SMM Smm!!!!

Friday, December Twenty-ninth

Dear Daddy,

Saw Chris and the girls the night before last. Thankfully, I didn't
have to interact with Amira for very long; I purposely show up in the
evenings now, usually only about a half hour before she is due to go
to bed. I do this for obvious reasons; so I don't have to interact
with her for very long and listen to her whiny, bratty little voice,
constantly making demand after demand after demand.

Once the girls were in bed, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Chris.
We ate microwave frozen, meaty lasagna in his bedroom with all the
lights off so as not to wake the brats. I ate my serving in a dollar
store plastic container. Chris ate right out of the lasagna
container.

As I ate, I thought of just how disgusted Jennifer would be at our
lack of "class", as she would call it. She would be so unhappy with
my unhealthy eating habits, not to mention the fact that we weren't
eating at an actual table, but on the bed, which was where I ate, and,
on the floor, which was Chris's place. She would also be upset with
Chris for encouraging me to eat like that.

Afterward, we had wonderful, unprotected sex. Chris pulled out twice
before he came so as not to knock me up, but I still enjoyed the sex
very much, although I must say, I really do hate the feeling of a
guy's penis being forcefully yanked from my appetizing, juicy snatch.
It feels weird, very unnatural. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't feel
pleasant, either, especially when I'm about to have an amazing orgasm,
and, then, BOOM! He's...

Just...

GONE!...

I wish he would just come when we have sex. If I get pregnant, it's
not like I can't just go get an abortion. Or, better yet, carry it to
full term and give it to a family who desperately want children but
can't have any of their own.

Honestly, I can't fathom why anyone would want to have children.
They're so time-consuming and ungrateful. But, to each their own.
Different strokes for different folks.

Normally, we only fuck once, before he's crapped out and falls asleep.
Which is fine with me. But, that night, we fucked Smm Smm times. He
came like a waterfall on both occasions, gravely defiling his bed in
the process. Also, he went down on me pretty good, shoving his nose
in my cunt several times, which hurt a little but that I also found
very sexy. I just wish he would have shaved beforehand, but, all in
all, it was nice to finally be united with him once more without
interruptions.
Thankfully, Amira and Rachel slept through it. I tried to be as quiet
as possible, but it's not always easy, especially when your lover is
hitting you in all the right, ticklish, feel-good places down there.
And, I'm not really the quiet, modest type that Jennifer so
desperately wants me to be.

I miss my alone time with Chris. I enjoy it when we get privacy, but
I can't help thinking about what a shame it is just how much energy
and life the brats drain from Chris. Kids are so demanding. And, not
only that, but they never give thanks. They just keep leaching and
leaching. I never thought of this before, but children are actually
natural born psychic vampires. Is that why I hate children so much?

I really do hate Amira. I used to try to deny the feeling because I
know it's wrong to hate your own children, but the honest-to-Satan
truth is that I really do hate her. I don't think it's just a faze,
either. I truly think she's just a hatable person. Hate is such a
strong word, but it describes, perfectly, my strong dislike of the
girl.

I wish I didn't feel this way. It's not like I WANT to hate Amira.
In fact, in the past, I've tried so very hard NOT to hate her. I kept
telling myself over and over again that this was just a faze, that it
will pass. I kept reminding myself that I really don't like toddlers,
never have, and that my feelings toward her will most likely change as
she gets older and wiser.

Now, though, I'm just not sure. Amira is such a conniving,
manipulative little fuckstick. I'm starting to feel like she's only
going to get worse with age, not better. So, in that case, my hatred
of her will only grow, not shrink and die.

How sad this makes me feel. But I can't deny it any longer, nor do I
try to. This is why I no longer am afraid to publicly come out and
tell the world that, yes, I really do hate my daughter. I hate her
and I don't see how that will ever change.

When I came into the bedroom, she was very excited to see me since it
had been Smm Smm Smm Smm days since I had seen her. Immediately, she
yelled, "Mama!" followed by "nose!"

That was cute. It brought a smile to my face hearing her yell nose
like that. But the cuteness didn't last long.

It doesn't take long before Amira starts acting up. Like I said,
she's a brat! All kids are, which is why I hate them.

Chris bought her this shiny, bright Christmas light that changes
colors when you press a certain button. Amira loves it to death, and
my first reaction to Chris buying it for her was relief. Relief
because I thought that it would take Amira's focus off of me and put
it, instead, on that bright light of hers.

But, no. Of course not. In general, children do exactly what you
DON'T want them to do. I hear it's the same with pets, though,
honestly I haven't seen that happen. Pets, in my many experiences
with them, are people pleasers. They usually do what you want so as
to receive praise and attention. Too bad children aren't more like
animals. It would make my life SO much easier if they were.

Anyway, once the novelty wore off, which it did in about five minutes
or less, Amira managed to find yet ANOTHER one of my anger-inducing
buttons. Laughing like a wild hyena, she pointed the light right in
my eyes, and kept it there.

It took me a moment to realize that she was doing it on purpose, that
it was no accident. Chris, often times, tells me that "oh, it was
just an accident", and "she didn't mean to."

BULL FUCKING SHIT! The fuckturd knows what she's doing. She's as
deviant as they come; just like her dad.

"Please don't point it in Mommy's eyes," I told her, trying to sound
as calm as possible but firm as well, once I had established that she
was being a shithead on purpose.

Did she stop? Oh, no! She kept on doing it, moving the light whenever
I tried to turn away from it so that it STILL shone directly in my
eyes. Which, I must add, are very sensitive to harsh light.

Chris actually did something, much to my surprise. With him, it's
really hit or miss when he'll decide to actually implement some
semblance of discipline. He turned the light off so she couldn't do
it again, explaining to her that it is too bright to point it in
people's faces. I asked her if she understood after his explanation,
and she said yes, so he let her have the light back, after we both
asked her if she would stop pointing it in my eyes, and she said, with
honey sweetness in her voice, "Yes, I'll stop. I won't point the
light in Mama's eyes anymore."

I didn't believe her, but Chris did, so, of course, that was all she
needed to get her way and get the light back in her grubby little
hands. He made suggestions of where she could point it and what she
could do with it, like spinning it around in circles and watch the
light dance around the floor, walls, and ceiling of their prison.

For a while, Amira didn't point it at me. She actually listened for a
change. But then, that got boring, of course, so she began to point
it at me in the eyes again. I was right to not have believed her.
Yet again, second guessing my better judgment, only to have my hunch
come true about what would really happen if she was allowed to play
with the light a second time.

"Amira, stop it! You know it's too bright!" I told her, not softening
my voice in the slightest that time, keeping my eyes closed as
tightly as possible.

"Why are you closing your eyes?" Amira asked stupidly, then proceeded
to laugh like a drunk as if my discomfort was the funniest thing in
the whole world.

"You know why, Amira," I told her, then got up, squinting, found her,
and snatched the light and the switch which controlled the changing of
the colors out of her hands.

"If you keep doing this, I'm going downstairs," I told Amira.

"Our visit, for the night, will be all done."

Knowing how serious I was, Chris made sure it didn't happen again that
night. But, boy, did it piss me off just how calm and composed he
was. He didn't say one, damn thing to Amira about it when she
re-offended. Didn't talk to her about the importance of keeping your
word, about not hurting people, none of that. He said and did
nothing, as usual.

That was on the night that I brought cake over. This was before I
sent them away for Christmas Eve and Christmas.

Amira is such a little bitch. She KNOWS what she's doing, yet she
asks why I'm doing this or that like she doesn't know, in the most
innocent of voices. It pisses me off to high heaven. Makes me really
understand how some parents wind up murdering their children, how they
can wind up becoming abusers. It's so easy to do! Children, in
general, are such brats!

Not only that, but Amira is such a fucking liar. She will sound all
sweet and convincing when she promises not to repeat an offense, so,
of course Chris gives her another chance, and what does she do? She
re-offends, all the while laughing in your face because she knows what
she is doing is wrong and that I won't spank her because Chris is in
the same room, watching me like a hawk, so, naturally, I have to keep
as calm as a door mat, all the while secretly fantasizing about
throwing her down all twenty of the concrete steps outside of their
house.

Self-control is very hard for me to keep a good grip on when I'm
around Chris and Amira. It's getting to be too much work for me. Too
much work with little to no rewards, which, at the end of the day,
makes it TOTALLY not worth what little semi-happiness I do manage to
scrounge from being with them. So, I've just made myself less and
less available to them. And, after what happened a few nights ago,
I've decided I'm going to make myself even LESS available to Amira.
Meaning, I'm not planning on seeing her at all in the near future.

I'm going to go over to the house, sure, because I need to collect my
mail, get Chris to make me food, that sort of thing. But I'll make
sure it's well after Amira's bedtime before I go. That way, I can
still get what I need, yet save myself from upping my blood pressure
because she won't be an issue anymore. She'll be asleep.

The one GOOD thing about Amira that I can think of right now, is that
she sleeps very deeply. That is, once she's been asleep for a while.
So, I shouldn't have an issue with her waking up. If I do, I'll have
to figure something else out. But, for now, I'll just cross my
fingers and hope this new plan will work.

So, anyway, Smm Smm Smm Smm (four) days went by and I didn't see Amira
at all. They were in Seattle, I was in Olympia. Several times, I did
consider going to visit them there, but, whenever I started feeling
lonely and like maybe I wanted company, I just reminded myself how
stressful Amira truly is to be around, which is why I stayed home in
the first place. All I had to do was think of Amira, and my
loneliness would immediately vanish.

So, December twenty-seventh rolled around. Amira kept asking Chris,
repeatedly, when she would get to see me.

Rather than explain to her that she could see me when she stopped
behaving so badly, such as not whining every other minute, shining
dangerously bright light into people's eyes, screaming and throwing
fits every time she doesn't get her way, push-over Chris simply told
her, "I don't know."

He always tells her that. He never explains, not even on a child's
level that I know she's old enough to understand, to some extent,
anyway, why I don't come around and what she could do to make me want
to come over for visits. He just ignores the problem and puts all the
blame on me. For, Amira can do no wrong. Neither can he. It's no
big deal to keep children prisoners of the bedroom. I'm the crazy one
for not liking that arrangement. It's all me.

So the evening of the twenty-seventh winds around the corner. I'm
feeling especially bored at home and really do miss Chris. I miss him
so badly that, even having to deal with Amira and constantly crying
Rachel seems doable. After all, they're going to bed very soon. So,
I'll only have to be around them for a half hour, forty-five minutes
at the most.

I can do it! I'll go over there and touch their noses. I'll breathe
deeply for the time that the kids are awake, and when challenges
arise, I'll simply remind myself that they'll be in bed soon and I'll
have Chris all to myself. Let's just hope he's not too sucked dry by
the little leaches to lie down and talk to me. Maybe even make a
little love.

So, I arrived at around eight-twenty. Amira, as always, was super
hyped to see me.

But, less than five minutes after I sat on the bed, Amira did it
again. She shined her stupid light right in my poor, tender eyes.

This time, it wasn't so bad because the main light in the bedroom was
turned on. Last time she pulled this stunt, the bedroom light was
turned off so that she could see all the different colors better in
the dark.

"Amira, don't shine that light in my eyes. We've already had this
discussion," I told her, reminding myself to take deep, deep breaths.
Reminding myself that, soon, very soon, the cunt would be in bed and
Chris would be all mine.

Like last time, Amira began laughing her head off. She laughed so
hard, that her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor. This time,
Chris said nothing to correct her behavior. He just sat on and on, as
if nothing out of the ordinary were going on within the prison walls
he created.

"Why are you closing your eyes, Mama?"

Same, damn thing as before. Just a different night, that was all.

"YOU FUCKING KNOW WHY I'm CLOSING MY EYES, YOU LITTLE CUNT!"

That's what I so desperately wanted to scream directly in her face,
with my hands around her throat, choking and shaking the shit out of
her like one shakes a brand, new garbage bag to get it to fully open
up after having been rolled up for so long. But, I couldn't. Chris
was there. Which is probably a very good thing. For Amira, anyway.
And, come to think of it, for me, too. Because, if he weren't around
to chaperone so much, it's highly likely I would be serving time in
the women's' prison in Gig Harbor for seriously assaulting a child or
even, perhaps, murder.

In that moment, I felt so helpless. I couldn't spank Amira because
Chris wouldn't allow me to. I couldn't put her in a time-out because
Chris doesn't BELIEVE in time-outs or their effectiveness, which I
think is total bullshit, but whatever. Who really cares what I think,
how I feel? Seems to me I'm the only one who does.

I couldn't start shouting because it would just scare poor Rachel, and
that would certainly cause her to start screaming bloody murder all
over again. I couldn't go downstairs because Amira would, most
likely, start clinging to my coat and I may not be able to fight the
urge to fling her off of me this time. If she got hurt, it would be
all MY fault. Not only that, but Chris would be all mad at me for
leaving yet again.

"You always leave when things get too hard," he tells me often.

"The message that gives to Amira is that you can't be counted on.
THAT you're only willing to be there for her for the good times, but
as soon as times get rough, you'll leave in an instant."

So what? How the hell did I manage to give him the impression that I
want Amira to think that she can count on me? Because, I don't. Not
just with her; I don't want ANYBODY to think they can rely on me.
When they do, expectations rise and it creates too much anxiety and
stress in my life.

In my experiences, the more you are there for someone, the more
they'll just take advantage. They'll raise their expectations,
because, you know, why the hell not, right? Then, when you fail to
meet their unreasonable standards, you're the bad guy.

Yep, I've been there, done that. Mostly with Jennifer, but there have
been a few others, Chris included, that made me decide that being as
undependable as possible really is the way to go in most situations.

Feeling the tension mounting in the room, Rachel began to cry. Not
knowing what else to do, I turned away from Amira and her fucking
light thingy, and focused my attention on the baby. Not so much
because I wanted to say hi to Rachel, but because I needed a good
distraction from all the bitter hatred and resentment that had begun
washing over me, since, really, the moment I entered the bedroom and
sat down on the bed.

I also had a pretty good hunch that Amira would stop the bullying once
she ascertained that, by doing what she was doing, she was actually
hurting herself because now I was no longer giving her any attention,
neither positive or negative. I had turned my concentration on
Rachel, and had started touching her little nose and cute, soft
cheeks.

It worked. Dropping the light on the floor, Amira got on the bed next
to us, and said, "Why are you touching her eyes?"

When trying to touch Rachel's nose, I accidentally grazed one of her
eyes with a finger because she moved her head, no doubt to look at her
bitch of an older sister, who, miraculously, she loves so, so much.
Probably because Amira gives her more attention than anyone. Probably
because Amira is about the only one who can make her really laugh
hard.

"I was trying to touch her nose," I explained to Amira.

"She moved her head, so I accidentally got her eye. She's not hurt,
though. Didn't even seem to notice. Still, we don't touch people's
eyes on purpose, though. Eyes are very tender and sensitive."

As I knelt there on the bed, touching Rachel's soft nose, it occurred
to me just how much I would soon hate her, too. When Rachel gets old
enough to start crawling, walking, and eventually, talking, she will
become annoying, too. Just as every child does.

She'll start getting into everything, she'll do mean things on purpose
because Chris provides very little discipline, and, eventually, there
will be nothing that I really enjoy about her anymore. Just like with
Amira.

When Amira was a baby, I did have some good times with her. She cried
a lot, but I think Rachel cries even more.

The older Amira got, the more hateful and resentful I became of her.
Not to mention, she began pushing a deeper and deeper wedge between
Chris and I because we would argue about Amira and each other's
parenting strategies.

Chris never takes what I have to say seriously. In his mind, I am too
hard on kids. My expectations of how children should behave at a
certain age are unreasonable. Even though I'm not the only one who
feels that Amira is very bad-mannered for her age of three-and-a-half.
Even the roommates agree with me on this one. And how does Chris
handle it? By herding them upstairs each evening, making sure they no
longer have any contact with the rest of the community within the
house.

And I'M the bad parent, here! Talk about funny shit!

Not only will Rachel receive little to no discipline from Chris, but
she will have Amira's bad examples to look up to. So, yeah.
Basically, I've contributed nothing to this world except create Smm
Smm very bratty, selfish, manipulative, conniving little shits who
will cause more evil than good in this already fucked-up society of
ours. Nice going, Ashlee! Then people wonder why I don't want to
exist anymore.

Chris also dismisses my opinions about how to parent on a very regular
basis. Or, he did when I used to bring stuff up to him and make
suggestions. I don't do that anymore; I just don't bother visiting
with the children much, anymore.

In Chris's mind, it's excusable to dismiss me because I think too much
like Jennifer. He doesn't seem to be able to separate me from her,
so, whatever I have to say just goes in one ear and out the other.
Since Jennifer was so abusive to me, I must be an abuser by nature,
too, since, after all, I did come from her.

Chris often tells me that I have no good examples of parenting to base
my suggestions on. Making it sound like his family dynamics were
absolutely perfect while growing up, yet he never even speaks to any
of his family members anymore.

He's right, to an extent. Jennifer sure wasn't a shining example of
how a parent should raise children. Neither were you, really, in a
lot of respects, Dad. I mean, at least you never lashed out at me
with your hands or emotionally abused me like Jennifer. But your
drinking and drug habits made you almost totally unreachable to me
pretty much constantly. And, when you did happen to be sober, I still
hardly got to enjoy your presence because you were working clear the
hell out in Croatia or some other country on the tug boats.

Still, I don't like how Chris so easily dismisses me. It feels like
I'm an unwanted, pesky ant being swatted off his arm and thrown,
violently, down onto the concrete floor, then stomped on, repeatedly,
by hard, spiky work boots with no other agenda on their mind other
than to kill, kill, KILL! Sure, my patience level is virtually
non-existent, but that doesn't mean I don't TRY to be a good person.
Or, at least I used to try. Not so much anymore; that ship has
sailed.

The other hurtful thing that Chris sometimes says to me is this:

"When you went to the psych ward and got CPS called on us, you
basically gave up your rights to Amira. If it wasn't for me allowing
you to visit her of my own, free will, you wouldn't be seeing her at
all. If you wanted more of a say on how the children are raised, you
shouldn't have gone to the hospital. You shouldn't have said the
things you said to have them put CPS on high alert."

This hospitalization and CPS thing happened before Rachel was born.
If CPS was ever notified that Chris had pro-created with me a second
time after everything that went down, I'm sure they wouldn't be too
happy with him.

The only reason why they FINALLY closed the case, after nearly an
entire year, was because Chris and I agreed not to live together.
And, we've kept that agreement, though Chris has hinted, multiple
times, that he would like to try living together again.

I've hinted at it, too, because having a family unit and a dog does
sound nice to me at times. Yet, my heart knows that I would never be
happy if we all lived together in one house. Chances of me going back
to the loony bin after a while of living with him and the brats are
very, very high.

I do love Chris, but I know I can never live with him. He's a slob,
I'm not. He never takes anything I have to say seriously, especially
when it comes to the children, so that's another big reason to stay
the hell away from him and live independently.

Chris has also accused me of abandoning him and the kids. He hasn't
brought this up in a while, but, whenever I think about it, it still
stings pretty bad.

For one thing, I didn't "abandon" anyone. If I had really abandoned
him, I wouldn't be giving him money every chance I get when I have
enough for all of us. Nor would I call and see how everybody's doing.
Nor would I go to Wal-mart and buy formula and diapers and pull-ups
constantly. Nor would I make sure they have a home to live in, even
though it has been a major hardship for me to do so in the past,
before he managed to get back on Tanf.

Sometimes, I can't help agreeing with his parents about how ungrateful
he truly can be. Some of the things he says to me makes me scratch my
head, wondering why on Earth I even try anymore. Sometimes, I find
myself wondering why I still love him after everything that's
happened.

I know I haven't told you about the psych ward and the CPS case. I
started to write about being in there about Smm Smm and a half years
ago, but, like many stories I start, I didn't finish it because it was
just too painful to write. Someday, I plan on finishing my unfinished
stories; someday.

I know I have done many a hurtful thing to Chris, too. I know I'm not
the easiest one to be in a relationship with. But, I don't go out of
my way to hurt him. Nor do I accuse him of weird shit, like
abandonment. Maybe that's because I'm the one who does all the
leaving, though. But, still, I don't hurt on purpose. Not that I'm
insinuating that he does, but I try to make a very conscious effort
not to inflict emotional pain on him, and I'm not so sure he tries as
hard.

Anyway, on the night that I brought the cake over, hoping to share it
with him after the little shits went to bed, it turns out that he
didn't even want any of it.

"It's too cold down here," he complained after he had put the girls to
bed and then came downstairs to see what I was up to and to let me
know the coast was clear to go into the bedroom.

"I want a shower. Then I want real food, not cake."

So, basically, I should have just stayed home. Not even bothered to
come over in the first place with the cake. If I had just stayed
home, my eyes wouldn't have fallen victim to such brutal assaults from
the lying sack of shit that is my daughter, though, really, not really
mine because Chris calls the shots on every, little detail of her
life, from what she eats, to when she sleeps, to what she is allowed
to do for entertainment, to what she isn't allowed to do for
entertainment, etc.

If I had just stayed home, I would have felt, in general, happier. It
would have been better all-around.

You should have HEARD the screams from Amira on that night, before I
sent myself away to the downstairs portion of the house so that Chris
could get Amira ready for bed and asleep at a decent hour. She won't
go to bed until I leave the room. When I started heading for the
door, of course she chased me, begging me not to go, begging to go
downstairs with me. Of course, Chris dragged her away. He's allowed
to physically remove her from what HE thinks is a bad situation, but
if I do the same thing, there's hell to pay and lots of it. Because,
oh my, if I dare pick her up when I'm even the SLIGHTEST bit miffed,
I'm doing it with an intent to fling her down the stairs or bash her
head against the wall or against the wood floor of their prison.

Yes, I do have many, many fantasies of doing that. But, do you REALLY
think I'm dumb enough to do that with prison time hanging over my
head, Chris? No way! I value my freedom WAY too much! I'm not willing,
in the slightest, to have some dumb, bratty, forty-something-pound kid
ruin my life, putting my valued freedom in jeopardy.

Anyway, I'm craving movie theater popcorn and Rainbow Sherbet with
chocolate ice cream. I didn't end up eating Rainbow Sherbet with
chocolate ice cream on your birthday, Daddy, so, I guess I'll
belatedly honor your day today. Let's just pray to Satan that Chris
didn't decide to take Amira early today to play at the mall, which is
where I'm going. Sometimes he does, but usually he takes her in the
evening. Let's hope that's the case for today.

If it's not, I don't know what I'm going to do. I guess I'll just
tell Chris I'm going to get ice cream and then, when I'm done, sneak
out of the mall through a different door so as not to be spotted by
Amira at the main door that just so happens to be quite near the
indoor playground.

Still, if Chris insists on following me to the movie theater with the
girls, I'll just tell him, straight-out, that I don't want to see
Amira right now. Either that or I'll tell him I'm going to call
Jennifer and invite her to come to Olympia and meet her grandchildren
for the first time. That should quash his plan, as well as shut him
up. If I became angry enough, I would call her, just to spite him for
disrespecting me. I would probably regret it later, but I'd deal with
the consequences when they hit me.

Anyway, I wish there was a movie I wanted to see. It's so rainy and
cold today. There is a new Starwars movie out that I know you would
appreciate. I'm half-tempted to see it in your honor, but I don't
think I will. Too much sound effects in the movie and not enough
dialog to know what the fuck is going on. Not to mention, the
descriptive video head phones at the movie theater are a hit and miss
deal on whether they'll work properly. I don't feel like blowing
eight dollars on a movie I can't fully comprehend or enjoy, which will
happen if the head phones decide to hit the snooze button and say
nothing.

I will, however, go to the theater for the popcorn and ice cream. The
prices are really a rip-off, but I'm bored and there's nothing else to
do, and I'm not totally broke, so why not?

Mom would tell me to kill my boredom by calling Chris and plan a visit
with the girls. I disagree. Being with Chris and the girls has been
quite boring lately. And, even if the boredom was, somewhat, dulled,
it would simply be replaced by stress. Lots and lots of stress.

So, I'll take the boredom. Sounds like the better end of the stick.
Not to mention, I'll only have to spend money on myself, not everyone
else, who would want a treat, too.

Yeah, being a loner has way more perks than not. Boredom's a bitch,
but there's lots worse things out there to experience than that.

Bye for now. I'll return with more thoughts/feelings later, if not
today, sometime soon. Off to the mall I go. Hope it's open when I
get there. If it's not, I'm going to be pissed as fuck! And, so is my
constantly growling stomach.

About Nevaeh Hours Later

Dear Daddy,

Had the utmost WONDERFUL time at the mall's movie theater. No, I
didn't see a movie, but, boy, did I sure pig out! Had my Rainbow
Sherbet with chocolate ice cream, followed by handful after handful of
rich, buttery, salty popcorn. There's leftovers to boot. Brought it
home with me to eat later.

A small sized popcorn is enough to feed Smm Smm people or more,
depending on appetite levels. I ate a bunch of the stuff, but it was
so rich and filling that I couldn't finish it, even with the help of
my demons.

As I ate, I found myself reminiscing about the times Chris and I used
to go see movies, pree-children. We didn't go too often because Chris
and I would rather spend time talking with one another rather than
sitting in a dark, cramped theater where the movies are played way,
WAY too loudly. But, sometimes, on rainy days or particularly hot
summer days, we would go see a movie when all other options seemed
dull or we were feeling particularly lazy with not much of an appetite
for conversation.

I especially remembered this one time when Chris and I went to the
movie theater at the mall, the very one I visited today. I forget
which movie we went to see, but I remember going into the theater to
save a spot for Chris in case it got busy. The movie hadn't started
yet, but the previews were about to. Once Chris and I found a good
spot, I sat down, and he said he would go to the snack bar and get our
nummies.

"What would you like?" he asked me in his soft, loving funny voice
that I loved so much. That I still do love, even now, with all this
resentment growing inside of me.

"I'd like a cup of Rainbow Sherbet with chocolate ice cream. I want
the chocolate ice cream to be on the bottom, the Sherbet to be on top.
Just like Daddy used to eat it. Oh, yes, and a glass or two of water.
Really, really cold water."

"Would you like to share some popcorn?"

"Oh yes, Smm Smm!" I shouted with excitement, momentarily forgetting
that we were in a movie theater where silence was expected at all
times.

"Okay," he said.

"I'll be right back. I love you."

"I love you, Smm Smm," I replied, then sat back to wait for him,
highly anticipating his return with the ice cream and the popcorn.

The TV was blasting, of course, so I put earplugs in. Too much noise
makes me highly anxious. And, if exposed to too much sound for too
long with no relief, sometimes the voices return. The bad ones; the
ones that aren't my friends.

Once the earplugs grew to their full size inside my ears, the sound
was much, much more tolerable. I knew I wouldn't be able to hear
every, single word that was being said in the movie, but that was all
right. After all, I wasn't expected to memorize it, for christ's
sake. And, as long as I was with Chris, I didn't care where I was or
how much of the movie I was able to hear or comprehend.

Chris and I had been together for several months, maybe longer. I was
still living in the Evergreen dorm. Or, was I?

Who cares? I do know that Chris was still living in his two-bedroom
apartment then. We hadn't tried living together yet, and were quite
in the honeymoon faze of our relationship. That was a very nice time
for me. Confusing at times, but very nice.

A short while later, Chris returned, arms brimming with goods.

Okay, here's the funny part. Well, I thought it was funny, anyway.
I'm not real sure if Chris thought it was funny, but it was. And,
because of what happened next, I smiled and laughed aloud to myself in
the snack bar portion of the theater thinking about it today. I
probably attracted some stares, but who gives a shit? I needed
something to laugh about today, and there it came, as suddenly as a
tornado strikes a town.

Chris bent down to hand me my water, and that's when the nummies
started to rebel. Either that, or they were very eager to be consumed
and enjoyed.

Once he stretched his arm out, everything toppled to the ground. My
little cup of water was the only thing that didn't topple over. It
was the only survivor.

"Dammit!" hissed Chris as he backed away from the scene.

Taking one earplug out, I distinctly heard popcorn crunching,
underfoot, his shoes more than a little excited about the unexpected
treat. For, how often do shoes really get treated to a movie with
popcorn of their very own to enjoy? Not often enough.

"What happened, Smm Smm?" I asked, while laughing my head off.

"I tried to hand you your water and lost everything."

He made one step forward, and...

CRUNCH!

"Boy, your shoes are very hungry," I said teasingly, when I managed to
catch my breath. Laughter can sure be an air robber. I wonder if
anyone has ever DIED from laughing too hard. Maybe I'll look it up
later.

"When was the last time you fed them?"

"Fed what?" he asked, evidently very confused.

"Your shoes!"

"Mmm, I don't know. Anyway, I spilled pretty much everything. Here's
your water, though. That managed to not get spilled."

"So, you lost the ice cream, too?"

Now, I was genuinely disappointed. I really didn't think he would go
back to the snack bar and buy everything again. Certainly, Jennifer
wouldn't have done that. She would have simply said, "Well, I tried.
Guess it just isn't meant to be."

Then, she would sit down, acting like nothing happened, while I sulked
silently, trying not to let it show, and also knowing that I wouldn't
be able to enjoy the movie anymore. Because, what good is watching a
movie without junk food?

"It's on the floor. So is my icy. The floor is really sticky now."

Taking my water from Chris, I sipped gratefully, marveling at how the
cup was still filled to the top with water. None of my water seemed
to have escaped like everything else had.

"I'm sorry that happened," I said earnestly.

"I could have helped you, you know. You could have saved the seat and
I could have gotten an employee to help out. After all, that's what
they're paid to do."

"It's all right," said Chris.

"I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the snack bar."

Was he SERIOUS? Was he REALLY going to buy everything all over again?

Nothing at that theater is cheap. NOTHING! I sat there in total shock
for a moment.

When he turned to walk away, however, I said, "Smm Smm, you don't have
to buy my ice cream again. It's all right. Water's good enough for
me."

And, I truly meant it. Ice cream and popcorn would have been a nice
touch to the movie, but I wouldn't absolutely DIE if I didn't get it.

Chrissie, however, didn't share my feelings on the matter, and
immediately let her thoughts be known to Chris.

"I want ice cream! I want popcorn!"

"Chrissie, sshhhhhh! Don't yell in here!" I said, covering her mouth
with the palm of my hand.

Immediately, she bit it.

"Is that Chrissie?" asked Chris, laughter in his voice.

"Yes. Ouch, Chrissie! Quit biting me!"

"Then don't cover my mouth!" she retorted angrily.

"I'll be back," Chris said.

"It's okay. Don't you want popcorn and ice cream, too?"

"Yes, but..."

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

I could hear Chris's crunching footsteps as he headed, once more, to
the theater's door.

Shaking with laughter, I put my earplug back in and waited for him to
return, hoping he wouldn't miss the beginning of the movie. If he
did, how was I supposed to tell him what happened? The beginnings of
movies are usually very quiet, with zero dialog. Just music and a
bunch of pictures for the sighted to see.

I hadn't discovered the beauty of the descriptive head phones yet. I
liked it when Chris described the movie to me. I often wondered if
all the whispering made the people sitting near us frustrated. I
liked to think it did, which is the main reason why I didn't get the
head phones. Annoying people was just too fun to miss out on,
especially if they were bound and determined to catch every word that
was said in the movie.

While I waited for Chris, I found myself still quite appalled that he
went back to the snack bar and was willing to repay for everything.
Jennifer would NEVER have done that, not even if it had been my
birthday. She was too cheap for that, though she still tries to
convince me that she was broke during my childhood, so that is why I
was deprived of so many wonderful snacks and outings.

She was so broke, yet she managed to find a way to work part-time
during the holiday season, as well as go on fancy vacations to Europe
with my aunt, among many other things that broke people don't get to
do even once, let alone several times a year like Jennifer did. She
didn't go to Europe several times a year, but she was always going on
vacation somewhere to escape our rainy, cold Washington winters. And,
when she wasn't on a fancy vacation, she was treating herself to fancy
spa sessions with her girlfriends every chance she got.

Which, isn't a bad thing. Everyone deserves to treat themselves now
and again. But, when you start depriving your only child of simple
pleasures, like Derry Queen dates once in a while, then it gets to be
not okay. Then, you fall into the cheap skate category, in my book.

I hadn't been away from Jennifer and her control over me for very long
at that point. A little over a year. So, this is why I found Chris's
action so wonderfully shocking.

He returned a little while later, and, this time, it was a success.
We both managed to enjoy some pretty epic treats, and the movie must
have been pretty good, because we didn't walk out in the middle of it
or anything.

My imaginary demons are almost all silents, even Bryan, so they all
enjoyed many rich, sweet treats during the movie, as no one in the
theater, with the exception of Chris telling me what was going on in
the movie, was talking, and the theater was pretty packed. Bryan had
to hunch over quite a bit so as not to bust open the ceiling, but he
is quite used to it, so he didn't mind in the least.

Smm Smm is the only imaginary friend that is NOT a silent.
Nonetheless, he is a rather quiet fellow, who prefers quiet and peace
over lots of noise and excited chatter. This is why he was so readily
accepted by the rest of my silent demons when I created him.

Thinking about that wonderful time made me miss Chris. I was even
tempted to call him and let him know I was at the mall, in case he was
already there or heading in that direction. But then, remembering
Amira and all her whiny ways, I decided against it. Better to keep my
mind full of happy memories with Chris than to have them all be
squashed by an incident with Amira, leaving my head devoid of
anything pleasant to dwell on for the rest of the day.

I know I have a lot of negative thoughts, Daddy. But, I don't think
that way on purpose. If I could choose, I would think nothing but
happy thoughts all the time. If I could make myself love Amira and
her sister, I would do it, without hesitation. I don't want to hate.
I don't want to be evil. But I can't help it. It's just how I'm
wired.

I love it when Chris says dammit. I don't know why, but it makes me
laugh. Amira has picked up the habit, too, which is also quite
amusing. Chris tries to discourage her from saying it, but it's kind
of hard for him to have any success with that when I start laughing
until near tears when she says it.

I don't mean to laugh at something that Chris doesn't want Amira to
say. I don't mean to be a bad influence on her. But I can't help it;
it is just so incredibly funny to hear a tiny voice say "DAMMIT!" in
the most innocent way.

I wonder what they're doing today. Chris didn't call me yesterday or
today. I wonder why. I didn't call him, either, though. I don't
really know what to say to him.

The only time I can really enjoy his company is when the girls are
asleep. So, basically, if I want to have any sort of meaningful
conversation with him, I have to wait until late at night.

I would go over his house tonight, once I knew the girls would be
asleep. But, I woke up early this morning and will be quite pooped by
the time he manages to get them off to dreamland, so it's very
unlikely I will see him tonight. Oh, well. Tomorrow's another day.

I really am very glad that wonderful memory came to visit me today. I
needed a reason to remember just why I love this man so much. Now I
have one. We're in a very rocky patch right now, but it will pass.
Won't it?

Eventually, the girls are going to have to attend school. Unless, he
decides to home school them, which is very possible, considering how
overly protective he is. Chris says he doesn't want to home school
the children, yet he has also told me that he will if he finds that he
doesn't agree with the school's policies on certain things, like
homework. Chris doesn't believe in homework for elementary schoolers.
So, if schools are still assigning homework to elementary school
students by the time Amira is old enough to go to kindergarten, he
will, most likely, home school her.

Either that or he'll do the homework for her. He's mentioned that as
an option, too, and, knowing Chris, he actually WOULD do something
like that. He's totally not bluffing.

Truthfully, I never found homework to be very helpful to my learning
when I was in elementary school. For me, homework was a total
nightmare because Mom used to scream in my face and hit me when I
didn't do the work correctly. I didn't have much of an issue with
many of the subjects in school. However, math was, hands-down, my ark
enemy right from the start.

Of course, no child can learn anything when you have a slobbering,
screaming lunatic of a mother hollering at you until your ears are
ringing. No child can learn when your mother gets so worked up over
ONE problem that she grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you until
your teeth crash into each other, and your vision starts going fuzzy.
No child can learn ANYTHING when your psycho bitch mother gets so bent
out of shape that she orders you to stand up, then bend over, so she
can proceed to smack your ass, repeatedly, to get some of that
hateful, vile energy out of her system.

To this day, math is definitely not my strong point. And, I'm quite
okay with that. I know basic addition and subtraction, as well as
simple multiplication, and, so far, that's been good enough for me to
get by.

Sometimes, I have difficulty figuring out how much to tip a server at
a restaurant. But, when in doubt, I just give them a shit ton extra,
which makes everyone happy in the end. It makes the server glad to
see you when you return, maybe enough to give you a bit of a discount.
And, it makes me happy to know that, at least I've managed NOT to
become a cheap skate like my mother. If I make even ONE step forward
in not being like Jennifer, it is a HUGE victory for me.

Anyway, I'm taking a breather. My back's starting to hurt, and I
think I want a bit more popcorn.

Saturday, December thirtieth

Dear Daddy,

I'm going to see Chris tonight for Saturday night. I hope he's in a
good mood. I miss him and our lazy time. I don't even care whether
we have sex or not; I just want to be near him, to touch his long,
pointy nose that whistles when he inhales.

Considered going there before bed to say hi to Amira. I do enjoy her
when she is in a good mood. At night, before she goes to bed, we have
this ritual of jumping up and down on the bed yelling
"Noooooooooooooooosssssssssssse!"

For Christmas this year, I bought her a giant teddy bear from Costco.
It's almost as big as her. She loves it; sleeps with it every night.
If Chris would let her, she would take it everywhere she goes, even
out in public. But it's too big and bulky. Not easily taken on the
bus.

Lately, when we jump on the bed and say nose, she's been wanting to
include her bear in the fun.

"You hold one hand, and I'll hold the other," she instructs.

Once we each have a good grip on the bear's hands, one hand in mine,
the other in hers, we jump on the bed, shouting nose, making the bear
jump, too. Oh, how she loves to play that game. I like it, too.
And, Rachel really enjoys watching us. Chris says she smiles a lot
when we do that.

But, I'm not sure what kind of mood Amira is in tonight, so, after
some debating, I decided I'll go over at around nine or so. That way,
she's guaranteed to be asleep.

What I'll do is tip-toe up the stairs and stand at Chris's closed
prison door, listening. If she's gabbing away, it means I'll have to
wait longer. So, I'll go back downstairs and wait.

If I'm greeted by silence outside the door, then, woo hoo, she's
asleep, and I can quietly go in there and be with my man.

We'll have to whisper, of course, but I don't mind. I just want to be
lazy with Chris. If I have to whisper to do so, oh well. I just hope
he's not all bent out of shape at me for not having seen our daughters
in Nevaeh days. Because, if he is, that won't be very much fun.

Sunday, January seventh, 2018

Dear Daddy,

I've been holding off on publishing this little journal to you
because, really, it IS very raw. But, now, I finally feel ready to
make it public. Every, last person, right now, are getting on my
nerves.

I know that many will think what I have to say these days is quite
hateful. I know it is very raw to many. Some may not even be able to
read what I have to say because they just don't want to hear it; they
can't possibly FATHOM why I strongly dislike my own children, how I
could.

The truth is, I've had some good times with little miss Amira girl
since I last wrote. Sure, she is a spoiled, whiny, little brat and,
yes, I do regret conceiving her and Rachel most days. But, sometimes,
on very rare and few occasions, they HAVE managed to bring short
bursts of laughter to me, fleeting smiles playing on my lips as they
do so. But, in the end, nothing GOOD ever lasts forever.

I've had some good times with Chris, too. We've had some great sex,
some really nice lazy time together. But, at the moment, he's getting
on my damn nerves.

We're both sick right now. Amira Brat gave us the flu after I took
great pains to treat us all to a day trip up to Seattle. As always,
it was a very long day, but, unlike last time I went up with them, the
temptation to shove Amira out into traffic wasn't there this time.
Nor did she whine and wail as much. The one time that she really did
and it got on my nerves, I left Chris to deal with the little bitch
and got me some chocolate ice cream with some sort of Sherbet on top
on a sugar cone. No, they didn't have Rainbow Sherbet there that
time, though I desperately wished they did.

"Mama, MAMA!" Amira had continued to wail just outside the ice cream
store to Chris.

"I want to see MAMA!"

"Don't you bring her to me until she's quit her whining," I had told
Chris before entering the little shop.

"She's getting on my nerves."

Thankfully, he answered this request and kept her away from me until
her screams and shouts finally evaporated. He doesn't always answer
this request to keep her away from me when I ask him to, so I was very
glad he did on that day.

Shockingly, I even overheard him explain to Amira that I didn't want
to be around her when she was crabbing. Usually, it's all MY fault
that I left, even though it is HER that is the cause of me leaving.
Always her.

I guess that since I was the one with all the dough, though, and Chris
knew it, he decided to behave himself. He knows that if I get angry
and hateful enough, I won't give him a cent. Not until I calm down
enough to remember why, in the name of Satan, I fell in love with him,
why I still do love him.

Anyway, though, we're both ill right now. I think the worst of the
flu is over for me, but it has left me feeling quite weak and still a
bit feverish. At least all the barfing is over with, though.

Amira recovered from it before twenty-four hours was up, of course.
Younguns always recover quicker than grown-ups.

Anyway, now that Chris has fallen ill, he wants ME to entertain Amira.
He wants ME to see her every day. I offered to pay for child-care so
he can take time for himself, but, of course, nobody is ever good
enough, ever safe enough, to watch Amira. Satan forbid, they might
forget the no sugar rule and give her junk food.

Even though I didn't really want to see the girls yesterday, I hastily
agreed to. Chris, as usual, came by my house, unannounced. I really
do hate it when he does that, and he knows it. It's only okay with me
when I let him know I'm not doing anything important and give him
permission to come over at any time because I never, ever know where
the fuck he is. He STILL hasn't gotten a phone. And, yet, I keep on
accommodating him by answering my door, by making myself available to
him when, really, I shouldn't. If I quit enabling him NOT to get a
phone by making myself less accessible to him and the girls, whom he
SO desperately wants me to visit for some ungodly reason that I can
never comprehend, maybe he will get one.

Anyway, when my phone told me that the front door was calling, I
hesitated for a moment, unsure what I wanted to do. Then, just before
the call was sent to voice mail, I decided to answer it.

I only wanted to see Amira for a little bit. Like, fifteen minutes or
less. I had specifically told Chris that I was still ill, and that I
wanted to keep the visit short and sweet.

I guess, for one who loves their children, the visit would have been
considered short and sweet. To me, though, it seemed like an
eternity. Chris stayed on and on, resting on the couch's lobby,
complaining of stomach pains.

Yes, I don't let Amira into my house. She always finds a way to get
into everything I DON'T want her to get into, and, anyway, that is my
safe zone, my happy place. And, since Amira brings me very few and
very short bursts of happiness only, she does NOT belong in my
eternally safe, happy bubble. So I make her stay in the lobby to play
with me if we hang at my house. Chris can go in if he absolutely HAS
to, like if diarrhea suddenly strikes, but I don't like him in there,
either. Honestly, I don't like ANYONE but me to be inside my own
house.

Finally, just when I was about to tell Chris bluntly that I was really
done with the visit, he FINALLY told Amira it was time for them to go.
At least a half hour had gone by at that point, and I felt very
physically weak from running around with her for so long.

Finally, they went., much to my great joy and utter relief.

Jennifer and Giovanna are also getting on my nerves. They got into a
HUGE fight on Christmas, of all days to fight on, when they stayed
together in Palm Springs. Any day, to them, is fair game when it
comes to fighting, though. They would even have the nerve to fight on
my wedding, if I were ever to have one, and if I were ever to invite
them, which, of course, I wouldn't. What it was about, exactly, is
unknown to me. Since nobody knows how to be honest in the Levcun
family, there are, of course, two very different sides to the story of
how the fight got started.

Giovanna claims that it all started when Jennifer decided it would be
a good idea to read one of my letters to you. Somehow, I very much
can see that happening. When I used to send Jennifer emails of how I
felt, emails that she never took well, she would forward them to
Giovanna to tattle on me. As if I cared. So, that story seems
plausible to me.

Jennifer, on the other hand, claims that the argument got started over
Colie. According to her, Giovanna started telling her that, everyone,
friends included, all hate Colie. Getting very defensive, as Jennifer
often does, she said that she began calling her friends and putting
the phone on speaker to call Giovanna out on what she said, was a lie.

According to Jennifer, her best friend, Misty, called Giovanna a liar
and said that she didn't hate Colie. Apparently, Giselle, my aunt,
also took Jennifer's side, embarrassing the living shit out of
Giovanna.

I can also see that happening.

What I think happened is a combination of both stories. Jennifer
insists that my name was never brought up, but, even before Giovanna
told me her tale yesterday morning, I felt inclined NOT to believe
Jennifer, for basically EVERY fight seems to be about me in one way or
another.

In any event, no matter how it started or didn't start, violence broke
out, of course. There is no such thing as a mature, civil discussion,
even a heated one, that can occur in a Levcun or an Alaimo
disagreement. Yes, I'm going to say it; my grandmother's last name is
Alaimo. Let her sue me; a judge can award her anything. But, you
can't suck juice out of a dried-out tomato, now, can we, dear Giovanna
and Jennifer?

Anyway, I'm finished with all of them for a while. I'm not answering
my phone for Chris because, lately, he just stays and stays, even when
it's quite obvious that I am very done with the visit.

I know he's suffering and sick, but he's refusing any sort of help I
have offered to him, so, yeah, sucks to be you, doesn't it, Chris?

As for Jennifer, I have nothing to say to her. Nor do I have anything
to say to Giovanna, whom Jennifer claims started punching her
randomly, though Giovanna full-out DENIES it, insisting that it was
actually JENNIFER who came after her.

That, I, too, have no trouble believing, considering just how violent
Jennifer was to me when she became so angry she couldn't quite
remember how to keep her angry, hateful, biting hands to herself.

So, here comes this letter in a very public setting. Let the
defamation of character lawsuit begin! Or, let the restraining orders
begin again! Giovanna has a pretty good chance of winning that since
she's gotten one against me before. But, as far as receiving any
money... good luck, old cow, because, at the moment, I haven't got
any. After my last bill's paid, I've got fifty bucks to my name this
month.

A judge can order me to pay whatever they think I ought to pay. But,
as I said before, you can't squeeze juice from a dried-out tomato.

And, with that being said, online this shall go. Away from everyone's
toxic drama and presence I wander, not to be disturbed or spoken to
until I'm ready.

HAIL SATAN!!!!!!!!!

HAIL SMM SMM!!!!

PS: Chris, I'm flat broke this month, so you will probably have to
swallow some of your pride and go to the family support center for
diapers. Unless, of course, you want our little brats to piss and
shit everywhere. Maybe it will give you some incentive to fully potty
train your eldest daughter. In any event, don't ask me for nothin',
'cause I got nothin' to give.

Giovanna, I have nothing to say to you, so stop calling. I very much
enjoyed the two weeks you went without calling me, no doubt because
you were too busy using your supposed EX-BOYFRIEND to get you a
vacation to Hawaii for your own pleasure and entertainment.

Also, I don't give a damn what happened between you and your daughter.
I feel enlightened to know that you two fought because it gives me
renewed confidence in the fact that I am right to stay physically away
from ALL of you forever and ever. But, as far as what happened
between you... spare me the drama; I don't care.

Jennifer, I think it best if I keep my distance from you, too. This
family is just WAY, too toxic for me to deal with. I've got my own
life, my own obligations, my own shit to sort out. Give me money if
you want, but don't expect me to get any closer to you because of it
because I won't. I appreciate your financial support, but my
emotional and physical well-being is WAY more important to me than
whatever money or thing you could ever give to me to try and make up
for such a shitty childhood you gave me. So, don't expect a phone
call from me for a while. I'll maybe check in with you via email or
phone messages without actually calling you, but that's all I'm
comfortable with. Also, feel free to check out my blog for updates.

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