Web Journal Of Red Pill Coyote - November 9th, 2022

BAAAAACK TOOOO THE MOOOOON SOOOO SOOON, MONGREL SKULL? Back pretty darn soon, aren't I? Something pretty interesting has happened. Yesterday, I did a YouTube video. Yes... I found out that I can make a new account on the YouTube app. But I'm not saying my account name. Although, it is a butter blob. Lol.. I made a video of just becoming a werewolf warrior about the realm of Scioto County Disability. I mean, I was just screeching something terrible. It was just me saying to not call my house pretty much because it's got my brain on a supernatural limbo of pessimism. Buuuut I got the feeling that somebody saw that video
MAYBE. Because the place that Makayla works at called the house wanting an appointment. In fact, it was Makayla herself. And I actually spoke with her... This is where I get drizzled with sadomasochistic acid. Lol. I accepted the appointment. I know, right? I'm doing this appointment to prove several points. One being that I'm no where near as stuck on robot legs to guide me as they might think. Not going to be an ogre about it. I can be calm and civilized. I don't even mind her asking me questions. BUUUT BEFORE THE SESSION STARTS, I'm telling her that I'm not going to be answering questions that has nothing to do with what I battle with. She starts asking me this mumbo jumbo about if I know how to shave, eat with a spoon, blow bubbles or whatever, her flesh capsule is exiting my castle. To me, that s**t is f*****g stupid and belittling. Hopefully we can talk like sentient creatures about this. Besides just giving me these questions that should be Dover Demon Diarrhea. I mean I THINK I get it. She's not from the previous centers that I've had to deal with. So maybe I was judging too soon. But hopefully with this session, I can play with the wires so to speak. I'll try to get her to have a session with me at the apartment. Because I don't want my mother involved. She makes up stuff about me THAT'S FALSE INFORMATION. BIOLOGICAL BARBIE DOLL. I miss the old days of 2011 to 2017 where psychologists talked to me about s**t that actually f*****g mattered. Now it's this "Can you take a bath without having an aid"? Like, what? Or f*****g asking me if I can put on a shirt without realizing that it could be inside out. Like f**k right off! Makes me miss my psychologist from 2015 in West Virginia where he'd have me in there for like 2 hours, talking about religion, mystical creatures, Illuminati, and stuff that is of SUBSTANCE! I remember he would come out and tell my parents how he wanted to see me again because I had some interesting stuff to say. Boy, how I miss 2015. And I love my therapist up in Jackson. Boy, I hope I turn some f*****g s**t around.
Anyways... I just did a project where I stuck a scorpion lollipop up my butt and managed to Crack it open. I'm not an astrology person but I think this is the season where the Scorpio finally stings those who've been asking for it. F**k you disability centers for making me feel lower than f*****g maggots! When I talk with that girl tomorrow, hopefully it'll restore some of the pieces of my soul. Fuuuuck you, tub boat center. You have pisssssssed meeeeee offffff soooooooo much. I hate cussing so much but my goodness. There is some light to be gathered.