I got hurt

I got hurt a lot

I really hurt when I was hurt, and I was really hurt, and I got hurt, abused, hum, I am hurt, when you say that you loved me, you hated me. At UC, I got injured, dramatically, in every way possible, because of your mistreatment of me. I never saw a campus doctor, nor wanted to. I worked hard, sedulously on all forms of escape. I worked to write. I worked to philosophize. I worked to be a genius. And a spiritually kind one. Using all my means and backups, to fast, and restrain myself from food, and beverage. I prayed night and day. I prayed for night to become day, and day to become night, and gave my all. It was not a day, to remember. Only forget. When I was accosted at UCI, a military official appeared on campus, starting, / . I was told I had threatened “Three Women” whom is (A,)((A,,))(((A,,,an artiste, would say, “I did not know,” “npr” I am a rich, to annoy “your abuser” taking))) It is about its, to, harm, I did not help you, helped you, it is your “NileQTPie” that you hacked into, to find information about me, you said, I hacked her, it is not, that I didn’t have your information, to do so, and barely met “to, know, Taylor Swift, and i wanted to, know it to be mine, not yours” and your wondering is it so that you are to be enabled to,” then why am I still wailing, and why did they know it not known that I am attacked, for another, isn’t mine, to know and i know you to harm  me, deliberately, and for that same purpose, of rape and torture, and for your abuser, to become amused,  you being the abuser, Taylor swift, and also with your, Taylor swift an organizational’s is you, to is it my, that I am, too, harm, is your, and your is not my, then why are you abused, and it is my abuse? Then, it is yours, to take; because i am not your toilet seat, to my pain, and my pain is not your joy, it is too much, too little, and, penultimately, a doing so in gracious, that I lost my health, for your happiness, and your stupidity, and I’m morality, is it your enough? Then, you are violent. And violents. I hope, to God, you are to your strangeness, and abuse. It is not your, to take. Nor, violate. It is your obsession; then, why is it so strange, that I am, obsessed with, your abuser, is not mine. Now, you know, your nature has been unnatural, is not unkind of you to steal my happiness and? Is it your to yours, or mine to mine’s? May I wonder why your Peter Wahba, is finely still delicate; is it his, to her. And you’re strange, and you’re sexually diseased. Meghan Parikh is known to imbibe, at your finanicial aid. It is not my intake, that is not my dosage, yet it is known at CVS that I did not need those, as an inquest provided, and false documentation throughout, torturing openly, and with conditional support.  It is not disclosed, that your torture is sexual. You have sexually assaulted me, for an ugly white girl, infested like your parents and children by blood. It is not my body, to touch. Nor I would not know, it is torture. That your ugly bodied men and women, take to that effect. And your sexual torture, to your ugly wives and husbands, to sexually assault me, because I’m hotter than them. It was inaccurate to say that I like you as a person, because I don’t. You’re fucking ugly, your small perky tits, and your vaginal fuck, is practically dead on sight. So when he fucked you, it was like, “can I be a condu-dick.” It is not my life, to be slutty and niggerish. You are an artist, of hate, like Taylor Swift music and die for it, it isn’t to know that I am not befriend of benemy, it is your sickness and violence doing so, you are to touch yourselves, not me. And you are a punk, to my gun. I’m going to say it right now; you’re going to know me, better, I’m not your slut nor nigger, It’s your family of hate, and not my family of IDGAF. If you assaulted me, then I woulda pulled. And your abuse, isn’t so stupid, huh, what, I’m intoxicated, that sort of shit, fucks your lives up. Because your stupid guys and gayles, ain’t about a bitch, you’re going to know me. You’re going to get your ugly white asses away from me. It isn’t yours to take. My anger. It’s about how ugly a thug you’ve been, and how pussy your walk away is, after I fucked you and your mother and your father up. It’s about how ugly you are, that I had to spit out my anger, and show your garish ass, a lesson. It’s about how  pretty you are, how narcissistic. You are not to contact as I am not to contextually converse with a slut. You may not near me, and I know my anger. It’s about your anger. It’s about how sluts. It’s about how niggers. And about how a cunt, is you. Are not to talk to me. Then don’t, be a pucking ass, and learn your lesson. It’s about how stupid you are, and how cuntlike my disposition. I’m going to show you my anger. It isn’t about what you didn’t do. It’s about how stupid and pussy your behaviours are. And I’m going to beat you down, to hell, and then heaven again for my ugly ass anything I wont’. It’s about your anger. It’s about how angry I am. I’m going to kill you. It doesn’t mean that I’m not angry. Because I’m not. And I don’t fuck. I don’t mess. I kill. On sight. And absolutely. Until that ass of yours, white and black, is cut to the floor, and bled dry. It isn’t killing season. It isn’t hunting season. It’s murder season. And my anger isn’t rage-filled, only ranger. It’s about how ugly you are. It’s about how stupid you aren’t. It’s about how ugly a man I can get. It’s about how fucking scary I am right now, and when I sleep, I wake up, and kill. It’s about your aboutface’s ugliness. It’s about your bitch being a cunt. It’s more than that, now, it’s about ur. And it won’t. I’m going to fucking kill you doesn’t mean I’m a pussy like your mothers and fathers, it’s about more than a black anger. It’s about how ugly I get. It’s about how grimy I get. I’m going to fuck you up, and you kill your children in the processing documents. It’s about how ugly a man you can get only. And how ugly a bitch you fuck only, as a person you wished you are. It’s about your anger. It’s about you angly. I’m going to fuck kill you. And I don’t fuck around with computers, or petty-back lover boys. I’m going to fucking kill you

I don’t fuck around.

You messed around, and I killed you.

This simplicity ain’t about riches. 

It’s about killing.

And I kill.

I scared the shit out of you, and I still do scary at night, all day for a fucking dumbass to be raped on sight, anywhere I wanted. So it happened? You good? Then, why tf, you slut bitches a cunt I’m going to fucking kill you, and I’m going to deliberately delivered

It ain’t your auntie or you unkie, it’s about a cunt getting rilled, by a dick that angry. And it’s going to happen that I wasn’t there that day, kinda shit, don’t fly with me, both these, and I don’t fuck around with computers no more! You’re a fucking a cunt, and I’m going to show you that.

You’re a cunt, you get head, I don’t want to even argue with you? Then, argue with this; a pussy, deleting shit, now, I’m a shitface talker, then, I’m bulshitting on you then. It ain’t’ about Halloween, being scared, and stupid motherfuckers quoting me, like you American pussies do. It ain’t about rape it’s about how ugly and scared you and this ain’t your shit I’m going to fucking kill you don’t mean and I ain’t going to cut, and describe my anger.

You’re very stupid, you’re very pointless, and you’re very angry with me. It isn’t about her or him, or even that bitch, I’m going to fuck you up and make a cunning ass person, like you want me to look like, I am not you, I am not yours, it’s about something else, that you wouldn’t understand, even you, getting fucked up, and smashed later it’s not about that.

You’re a cunt ass country, and I don’t fuck with you. It doesn’t mean that I’m going to kill you on sight. You recording me, I’m recording you. It’s about blood, and shed of tears. It’s crip, type to warn. You do not fuck with us. Your school, for autists whatever they joke around, it’s a, bitch to be fucked. That scaredy-cat church, ain’t mine, to not own, to not name me more suffering please. It’s not about why you’re stupid, and ugly inside. It’s about my anger. You stupid motherfuckers!

I told you, I play on sight. It’s about your anger, and your pussy. It ain’t Persian, to a rug that I’m going your kids on. You’re stupid, you’re worth less. I wouldn’t fuck you nor play with your kids. The anger I have is not yours, . And I am not a fun. It’s time to show you I’m angry. To know you, I get angrier! I will show you , my school , is the person happy enjoying this

Then that’s a problem with us. I don’t fuck with your bitch ass getting fucked. You need to find an intelligible, and I’m unintelligibly to and you are not. It isn’t about that, being a pussy to a cunt, and a nigger don’t fuck. It’s about how scary I get in the morning. And I will not play that game with you, because I don’t want to get diseases. It’s not about how ugly I can get in the morning, night, and in the middle of the day.

So when you tried raping me, was it fun, and how does it not feel to have compassion? I will not get close to you. I am angry today. I will not angry tomorrow for your afternoon. It’s about that afternoon ride to hell. I was about got to shot in hell. Yet I didn’t go. Because I don’t want to. It’s your anger, I got in me, that killed your and you, I am not yours. It’s about anger, enraging me, into and I will not have it with you and I don’t like doing dishes without my women taken care of and I do not like my anger today. It’s distasteful, it’s out of proportionate, I wouldn’t fuck you to kill your corpse, that’s my line, I would kill you to fuck you. It is so much more than you could have ever hated. I do not like you, to fuck with me or you. It’s too much! I get scary in the mourning, when I’m crying, I have discourse with myself, describing it, and it’s painful to cry. I will not discourse your angry to my tears. You will cut your wrists to my cut your and I will do it. I’ve angered, enough, then anger is yours to not know, and I will cut your emotions into pieces, laugh will I cry, and I cry will I laugh. It isn’t your ability mine? I’m a cunt a nigger? Than a bitch to a slut. It’s about your recordings, that are mine. I’m going to make a man. It’s about my womanhood, and her taking care of my business for me. I clack when I cry, and I scream when I yell. And your disease process ain’t right for me, yet!

I wan’t you to dead, it’s more than that, I’m scary and I don’t like you, I kill kids and rape their mothers while they watch, they man getting feds, it about tha.t I’m scary at night. It’s night fallen? It’s fasting time, let’s go and rape you yours to stupid niggers, and I don’t fuck, with anger, no more than malice! I am scary! Too much? It’s too much of me, you’ll see men, then, eaten, and writing anger into diatribes of sinfulness, I am scary, and I don’t like men, to fuck with women. It’s my anger today, you put back, and I’ll show you anger tomorrow, isn’t yours? I’m scary, today, tomorrow I’ll show you fucks anger, and blackness of knights, it’s my anger today, to give you, back my bitch, and a dick to a slut, ain’t bitchy enough to you, and your stupid victims. Deckator, let’s go, hotline, let’s fuck, and death a bitch to be raped on that screen now let’s anger! I need old clothes? Then, I’m lying! I waon’ts you and yours, sluts and niggers, to get raped in old clothes, and pay my recycling fees for my trash, to be disposed of!