F R A U D

The coughing had stopped for awhile but had suddenly returned, as if I had done something wrong—but it only seemed that the more I paid attention to myself and my health, improving my life and my habits, this energy followed, as if trying to keep or return me to the Hell from which I had been born, raised, and married into— only to overcome by luck if anything, albeit strength and wit; the cycle of abuse was still the ever present cycle—and the more I read about the psychological mindset of a psychopath, the more I had come to realize my own pitiful narssism, as if it had become a contagious burden— which I had tried to thrwart at every angle, of course—but as it appeared, most of being a typical person was conversing, about if not mindless things like the weather, then about oneself—and especially since I had done my very best to be soully a musician, I had been in the habit of upselling myself, which for the most part I hated anyway; However, some achievements and talents I really did take such pride in that sometimes I felt that there were only so many things that I could say, that I was often repeating myself, or even worse—speaking from some kind of scripted dialogue, which didn't seem much but a stones throw away from the surreal and bizzare unreality that I had been in; things each day seemed more and more like a movie, the night before culminating in an entire plethora of new discoveries—both about myself, and my apparent self-made external world. I knew that my return to Equinox would in some way be a catch—the recently-increased initiation fee which I accredited to the prolonged disability from joining, however worth the wait had doubled— jumping from something like $250, to $500 in what seemed overnight, though it had been already almost eight months since I had rejoined—and nearly seven in New York alone, though the time had flown despite its absolutely dreadful happenings, not yet having any fun at all in the city besides very brief moments of euphoria—no, instead I had been shown a first-hand look at the broken system, the broken economy, and the broken people of the world first-handedly, fighting tooth-and-nail to stay well—which had been an incredible fight in itself, in addition to the growing number of actual physical fights and altercations I myself never thought would become of my growing years—but New Yorkers, it seemed—especially and particularly the poor and black ones—liked to fight, and I was learning well to protect myself and defend, both in wit and might. But, especially as of lately, I had grown tired, depressed—and especially very hungry, my food supply dwindled to that of simply whatever I could get my hands on from the local food pantries, and I was learning very well that ‘poor people food' and ‘fat people food' were more commonly than not the same things. The grocery stores in the area were allowed to mark up everything in order to compete with each other in greed, in the poverty-stricken neighborhood of Ozone Park, which lived up to its name exceedingly, filled with trash, and heavy with the exhaust of every imaginable industrial machine imaginable, from automobiles to airplanes and beyond—it was an overall disgusting place to be, and with the coming times the reality had set in that I was just as likely broken as those around me in some way—but in understanding how, I would often also want and need to understand why—an answer only God would give me. Just a couple days before, I had woken up seemingly into a fairytale— I had been again in the habit for some reason of checking my email, and upon refreshing my GMail had a slew of messages from Equinox, who I had chosen specifically just the day before not to block or place into spam—and though with the passing months of March, April, May, June and almost all of July begrudgingly giving way to the need to work out, trying most every-other gym within reach and at times trekking a tolling 2.5 hours one-way to the most affordable and/or acceptable gym, hating every moment of it as with time passed, I came to understand that a vast majority of people living in the ‘under-realms' of society were less likely to use trash cans even indoors— beginning with a mall-bound gym in the Bronx, which at the very least had a sauna, I couldn't dare to pay the monthly cost, knowing that I would sooner-than-later be transferred to a shelter even further than the gym I had chosen—x-sport fitness—and had grown to a boiling hate, observing the petty mis-management, being told one thing and then another—but above all, the dirty, trashy facilities—the number one factor which disinterested me from paying for any of the gyms I had joined in my time in New York, besides blink—which I had mostly detested due to it seeming more like a high school play room than an actual gym, and of course, it's lack of adequate sauna facilities or even hot showers. It was during my return to ka futness however that I realized my life had changed fiercer, that I was being watched, tested, and tempted—and though I knew something remarkably greater was at play, my own character had been numerously thrown into question—which I understood, but was still however irritated by, never knowing why someone such as I would be held to such high standards at all, and although knowing that a notable amount of my writing and other works of art had been published and had been become some sort of a public interest, I didn't understand why it mattered so much to the rich and privileged elites who had everything without any of the trauma or having to work too inadequately hard for it that I was so squeaky clean—and for the most part, I was, besides the couple of inherited traits and nasty habits I had adopted under duress of trauma, abuse, and neglect—let alone poverty itself—and I found it baffling that in a society where the white elite had bought up all of the food and property in the world and were selling it back at acceleratingly increased prices for profit to the lower masses, that stealing vegan protein from Whole Foods market could or would be looked down upon—and had just few months earlier been ‘thwarted' in an attempt to gain proper enough nutrition to function, as the homeless system did not provide water at all, or vegan food, leaving me to eat for the most part, only bananas for weeks on end—and of course, once allocated the funds to eat, being limited to such predatory pricing that two avacados might cost $6, or just one mango $3– not of course that I could keep much food for long; the shelter did. It provide a refrigerator or kitchen, and as I hadn't yet been able to afford a cooler, having decided to catch up on my bills with the income I was receiving as a DJ, rather than spend it on any of my other needs—food, clothes, and of course, my hair, which had embarrassingly at this point grown into matter dreads I would more than likely have to cut off—and at least, of course— if I was going to cut my hair I would have to be really skinny—because I was already too black and too fat to be pretty at all, really, by societal standards—but chopping my hair off would be the end of my existence, perhaps a much-needed end, as my existence so far hasn't been admirable, besides a few redeeming factors and qualities I had that even I liked—and, I did at least like myself enough on the inside to try to keep the outside decent, at least clothed. ‘That's it. I'm not going back to the gym until I can afford Equinox.” I had certainly mentioned this jokingly on my podcast, whose audience I was still largely unaware of, but didn't care— I was still continually being coughed at, bullied, and harassed by means of what seemed psychological terror and torture—and by now I knew the more I felt or thought that it could be black magic inflicted by my fat, stupid, lazy estranged ex-husband, the easier it would be to allude my suicide to “mental illness”, rather than the plan truth; someone had been torturing me for years, at this point, and any of my actions or the circumstances surrounding them were actually justified, not just indignantly but brutally and honestly so—I had been robbed, starved, stalked, and even lead-on by things and people that I loved,