šŸƒAmanda22Janeā¤

Ghost Writer
2021-10-01 08:54:45 (UTC)

Friday Night 19:56.

A kiss, a hug and lunch for the first of the month. October 1. 20:20 Auckland, New Zealand Time.

Got my money refunded from that online legal team. Cocksuckers.

Called the smoking quitline people late this morning. It was hard but I did it.

(The women's health professional I had a consult with yesterday reiterated quitting smoking. FOR GOOD.)

The thing that doesn't impress me about support call centres is information that they ask you for. My birth date? Why the fuck didn't she ask me how old I was?!! Especially in this day and age where birth dates are fast becoming "confidential" classified information. I didn't do very well. She kept trying to talk over the top of me. It's either that at call centers or they are silent. Sound bored, uncaring. There's little brain employment being used these days.
Surely these folk can tell whether or not the caller on the other end is genuine. I'm not being critical. This is what I observe. I've made so many calls to support center helplines over the years. Another form of efficient bureaucracy in action. (Now I'm being scathingly critical and blatantly sarcastic.) And I'm not by nature a sarcastic person. It even got to the point where I wanted to call her back and ask : Why did you want my birthdate for!!?? Why didn't you just ask me how old I am??!! I just get SO ROYALLY FUCKED OFF with all this so~called important information gathering. I was feeling incredibly vulnerable as it was. I still am. It's affected me all day. Some support. She offered no explanation either for the gathering of my birthdate information. None whatsoever. Feels good to write. Get it all out.

HERE'S THE GIST : Almost every organization who gathers personal information about you over the phone seems to stand upon this unspoken sense of entitlement. I'm not talking about the emergency services that's incredibly different. Unbelievable.
My whole phone calling life rushed back into view during that support call.

Some good came of it but like the psychiatric medication that I used to take, the side effects FAR OUTWEIGH THE FUCKING BENEFITS.

Rant over.
A quiet day of sobbing myself to sleep and sleeping. I forgot to close my front door before I took a nap.

Or did I?? Woke up from a nap and it ~THE FRONT FUCKING DOOR~ was standing open. I'm pretty certain I closed it. Assholes have illegal access to my home again. Obviously they still have the keys they stole from me. UNBELIEVABLE. I'm not intimidated by this MESSAGE OF INTRUSION at all.
Their time will come as karma points a warning finger.
In practical terms, I need to get the lock changed yet again. 3 cocksuck8ng neighbours as usual. They need a lead pill. They need 3 lead pills each : one in the head, one in the heart and one in their cocksucking genitals.

The wonderful news is that I'm rising above the daily duress. Just because they've mostly stopped FOR NOW, doesn't mean to say that I'm not suffering any more. I still am.

How much harder can sobriety be?




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