The last person I could really talk to on earth has been assimilated into the perps. I had a horrible day yesterday with perps sitting and hanging around across the street from me and called him to come down here to Hell and rescue me. I waited half an hour outside for him I was so eager to leave.
He started acting weird as soon as I got into the car. He acted like he didn’t want to leave my “neighborhood” and went in circles, then said he wanted to follow this bullshit “vehicle” that’s run by people peddling that has a huge table in the middle for drinks. I kept insisting I wanted to leave and he said “I don’t take orders from you”. He said he wanted to park in the shade near my house and “talk”. I wanted outta there!
Finally, we left the area, and then he suggested he just drop me off at a library and leave me there to go home ALONE. Bullshit. I told him no way. I have books at home. Finally, we ended up at a park and he calmed down and acted human for awhile and we had conversation.
After that, he wanted to eat out and so did I. He said he “didn’t want to eat at fast food or any of the dives you like”. HUH? I choose them because it’s cheaper. He said, “I want to get a beer with lunch”. OK, fine. I’d get soda. It was a nice place, well, a sports bar, but it had a/c and I wasn’t complaining. We ordered lunch and then I noticed IT. He was using the hand signals. The perp hand language. I’d seen him nose swiping before, but, that can actually be created in a non perp by making someone’s nose itch. I looked on in horror, but said nothing. I talked to him like nothing was happening.
I stupidly opened up about my rebellious adolescence and how I took risks.
He started talking about a serial killer which I thought odd and made me scared since he does not seem interested in that kind of stuff. (crime, etc.) He said, “the (killer) liked girls like you…brown hair, eyes, etc…right about the time you were a teen rebel. I was shocked. I thought this killer liked the cheerleader type: blonde/blue/stacked since he was so good looking himself. It felt like a threat. I think this killer predated my teens and was no longer “out there” when I was rebelling. I looked up Bundy and he was arrested in 1978, long before I ran away. He preferred women who looked like his rich ex-girlfriend who dumped him. I don’t think I was as pretty as his victims. He also had other abominable habits which I won’t write here because you might be eating.
Then it was back “home” again. He had said he’d give me some money for groceries before he came, but when I got up to leave the car, he hadn’t. I decided to let it rest and not beg. I got out of the car and he called me back. As he handed me the money he said, “you know, me handing you the money like this looks like we did something,” oh REALLY. I told him to be more discreet if he gives me money in future. He was really being a perp yesterday.
I have no one.
In front of the apt. today it’s like the circus has come to town: people coming by spitting, stopping, walking up and down. I feel like a naked animal in a glass cage in an intersection.