the real truth

i finally figured out whats wrong with me. i was raised to be a successful socialite by my families. i then of course rebelled and decided i could not bare the pressure and came to canada for school. i then ran out of financial ssupport in my last semester and was not able to take the last class because i could not handle the stress. using my new credit card afforded to me by the bank i paid my last international student tuition 4k a semester and spent the next eighteen years paying and not paying off this now long gone debt with handicrafts and sheer boldness in the face of rationality knowing full well the outcomes would be my needy hand clutching a bunch of rent. periods of stability interspersed with a couple of near misses to my literal life due to the fact that i had to move more than anyone i know the entire time facing the difficulty of not being able to find anyone who could asses my symptomatic maladies or diagnose a prognosis or even address them to me in any way. i had extreme bouts of anxiety my entire life because of how people treated me. its something to be hated because of your attitude or personality or manner of dress or fashion or anything but not knowing the reason and everything is picture daisy picadory but the extreme feeling of the others hatred towards you is beyond mystifying and you have to act like theyre actually treating you so kindly etc then learning it later during covid when peach told me i think you have something in your throat because i had it and it probably smelled the same to her so i clued in and checked my throat and gagged and almost vomited for the next three years getting rid of a lifetime of smoking and likely progressing to throat and lung caners of the mouth and other decaying things like the other thing was a venomous thrombosis of the sinus i diagnosed it after looking for it my whole life and it was just the trauma symptoms and lack of attention on the matter of hydration with extremely clean water and the fact my nose the catilage part its too small and my collapsed tube its just so tragic.. anyway its because i was born this way and theres nothing wrong with my parents either its just how shit stank so bad is what makes the building codes here make more sense. same goes with handwashing and a sense of humility in the face of set in stone behavioural occurrences in the nature of traumatized individuals though this makes no sense to judge people in this light. thats why i dont think i talk shit at all when i am freaking out about someone or a lot of people spying on me at the same time in real time. my body isnt an idiot its a very sensitive being made of sensory organs and circulating elements of the universe. when i say holy shit youre an asshole i fucking mean it. but when i say your an asshole and mean it then we can both laugh like fucking lunatics and i wont phase you to fade out you fuckin nazi - but if you want we can talk about it. my problem is people dont get me and how traumatized i am because they never asked me what happened to get me so traumatized. oh ill tell you in a sentence or two but to make me enumerate the drama or actual event and relay all the other problems that came after like same name, looks like, felt like that color looks like against that thing- all too real and would cause intense emotional pain etc. very difficult to express the humiliation i feel just with everyday interactions against someone here on my word denying ma privilege reserved for patrons who are using the service and covid literally tried to murder me with that stolen gazette and massive list of business license numbers combined with what i was doing in toronto on my own. my work is constantly stolen from me while i am doing it using nothing but what i can get to a library the city hall internet google apps thats what everyone can get to but my wrk is only stolen i do not have any of my old art work just pictures maybe no more slides not any internet pics computers stolen plundered belingings all because of that stolen gazette and what i saw being transmitted live in real time on the phone literally the entire gazette slowly changed and also my phone- the literal text the sms text was moving the words were chainging it looked like they were getting pushed over to the right letter and another letter would take its place until the entire text was replaced with something different or similar or opposite in nature. i saw in that royal gazette edition the entire toronto small business pedestrian market. every immigrant who came on the original program who opened a small neighbourhood shop pre development was on that list and the subsequent growing city businesses these shops and business licenses were needing to be put into the computer because of the land claims/ greenbelt land shift and some of these leases or deeds were only handwritten or on documents that hadnt been put in yet and it was about to expire that method of collection. when the names and business names of the list changed into this horrible gang stalky violence against women production i worried that the original snall businesses would not get informed and they would lose their business license which anchored the neighbourhood to begin with. most of these badly outdated convenience stores in older toronto neighbourhoods still had their first haul of goods and were in serious decay. not only did they need updating for their data storage but they needed a helping heart to bring these small old corner stores a new thing. some of these stores had foundation sidewalks for the coty of toronto. their sidewalk was the first sidewalk in that village or neighbourhood. likely packed dirt prior. the missing toronto neighbourhoods could have picked up and been identified through a collaboration with the bia's of that neigjbourhood, making a new map of toronto by these perons and mostly immigrant families who were given the small business loans or opportunities in exchange for a loyal presence in the neighbourhood which needed a commercial update but there were no interested parties and i was interested but as i was forming the concept all this happen med and also i was homeless and extremely sick with help in sight. the small business listings in that gazette i kid you not turned into this fierce catty production of hunting for this landlord that was only in aggregate. a profiled individual. great. i was standing i remember on freakin queen street no less by around gladstone at the time staring at my phone in disbelief at the transmution occuring right before my eyes i knew i was in trouble. the greenbelt expansion had just been previously released and the people that would have understood the land shift were now being targeted for violence. myself as a queer woman seeking refuge from violence under the guise of conceptual art school being arugably more advanced and taught in college versus the schools and groups in manila- only to land in vancouver safe as fuck yo- in retrospect, a year later in 2093 while i was back in manila for a year methamphetamine arrives on the shores of bc following me to my grave.............. tbc: