It is tiring for me to speak, and with a light sense of humor trying to share, because it is that painful to speak, without being dramatic, took night meds at 12pm, because I was in so much pain, that’s after photo-ing well, and my peace disturbed by voices, aggravated until I started punching my head repeatedly, and filmed it, for whoever wanted to see me suffer, as proof that I do self-harm, and upon insult punch my own head, that’s questioning or to shed light upon a fight off medications placed in rehab for two months, in which my Brother called me “an embarrassment to the family” and then went nuts punching my head, and then slammed my head into the wall of the Persian house we were renting, which was a cement wall. Suicide is not a communication of guilt not stated, as though I am knowingly responsible for the failed conditions of others, if I was well enough to be a source of comfort then, my condition now is not that, a different condition now, where no one talks to me, and I do not feel well. If this is about racism, I would say it only exists so long as you use examples of people from your life, who you have not held any judgments toward as being of lesser importance to you in life, based upon where their heritage is from, or based upon their condition, not cared for someone, I think we all care about those who we have lost, who are not here today, and now is no easier, not to say that then things were knowingly difficult to understand or comprehend and needed improvements to resonate with those who come from wealth or who drink or suffered from depression, make what they went through then about what Im going through now. That’s to treat me as the same as someone who is no longer here, to see if I suffer in the same way they suffered or if what I have been through in life, explains why they are no longer here treat me. As though I have lived a reckless life, without care for others, or as though my story is painful, or creates painful misunderstandings about life as told, as though Im drawn to populations of people only in need of emergency care, as though I was once not well enough to support those who were going through something I had not yet gone through in life, only beginning to have sex in college, my first boyfriend a 33 year old, I met when I was 17 in boxing class, he used to watch me from Spin Class, I punched much harder with my entire bodies force into the punch in my soccer t-shirts and adidas sweatpants, not at the gym to get laid or be looked at, told him “Im moving to Colorado” when he put his face up to my bag to talk to me. He was the hottest guy at the gym, my best friend at the time, had to escort me to our first date sat on the couch, and called me out when she was ready to go, wore an orange tank undie set from Ron Herman gifted to me by the ex-friend in the tent, who I convinced to go to nursing school because one of my babysitters went to nursing school and is successful, she babysat me and my Brother’s first girlfriend, whos Mother interviewed me at Southwestern, and advised me about how to write my Personal Statement, and explained to me what the Addendum was for, I had my Personal Statement reviewed by two Attorneys at the LA City Attorneys Office, and one told me standing at his door “your way ahead of the game, maybe one day you can run for President.”
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AuthorLeslie Fischman Archives
July 2021
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