Does Anyone Care If I Live?
Nobody will help me. They want me to go in somewhere. This is why ‘I’m executive dysfunction’. I have been fighting through a hardened mental block every time.
I know who to trust. They are people that can tell me if I’m wrong in their eyes and not shirk when I take that, roll it into truth, and own them with it.
My subconscious thinks there are about 12-14 of them. Step-up lore masters. I’m actually Augie Garrido’s daughter and that’s why they’ll never talk to me again.
I will prove it with Spaniard blood. If I’m wrong I’ll admit it right off. That’s how you do it.
It’s factual to me by the blatant layers of truth I understand from my memories. My family saw a Spanish man in Spain when they went without me. They said he was a spitting image. They didn’t invite me to join. I wanted to and made that clear.
I’m a bastard who is a Spaniard. Neither my father or mother have a drop of Spanish blood inside them. That’s what I believe and I speak it as truth to cut teeth with liars and see who has a spine.
Elderly women who godify rapey and powerful men, along with their abused, gaslit men-babies will never admit they’ve been inflicting the worst harm imaginable upon each other by sticking together in chains of cis heteronormativity. They project from denial they will carry to the grave. They are fuck freaks and child abusers all, if they fit this mold.
The age of Hera and Zeus is over. Welcome to Daphne land. We like Apollo and Artemis type-situations around here. That’s what godhood truly means. I’ll be excited to write another, proper, Daphne/Artemis/Apollo mythology one day. That first part was meant as a tease. It begins with hints of the story I might tell when freed.
Fundraiser by Daphne Garrido : Support Daphne Garrido's Journey to Stability
