Photographic Memory

A box of photos and photo albums saved for me by a professional sentiment moving corps. A lot of people, so many with popularity and authority who did nothing for this starling in the wind. Chirp chirp, after all of these years that I had categorized in a linear fashion. The pictures exist as a lot of proof and photos missing are further proof. I am here having a difficult time looking at the rapture in the mirror. So ugly and again being forced to gain weight, or the "heavens" would come after me. Lying in my bed, anxiety says that the true garbage is after me again. I exist and I am here, but it seems to not be reality. How many screams can go unheard and how many times can you be tortured for screaming in pain? I have dealt so long with the humans who have no shut off switch. Their ability to go at me for nothing has earned me a prize of peace today. I never wanted it in the first place. I wish for WAR until I can come to be. My ability to believe is wavering and I am tired of having to be around and be nice to people who totally creep me out. Maybe all children should have to take the city bus, by themself for a year. Enough said.