My words are all in vain and empty.

I sounded like my mother, "YOu should be ashamed of yourself...I don't care your circumstance or your job..."

Will I ever be bigger than words? The words have gotten me into trouble the most.

"Don't buy into emotional terrorism," I said to myself after leaving another message. "You can't make people feel guilty." I say more in my own head. I can't motivate an individual in this manner. If I could, I would have four years ago, or maybe three or maybe two.

I'm on my own. If I want my civil rights back, my freedoms back, I have to do it on my own. If he lost his, and doesn't care about them anymore, he's on his own too.

I woke up one morning trapped in a nightmare. There was a plan for this, but I haven't grasped it yet.

I wish I had a friend who cared about these issues too, but no one feels the way I do. I ccan't write like this. YOu take the Fourth, you take the First.r>r>"Wherever a man may be, he is entitled to know that he will remain free from unreasonable searches and seizures. "

--Stewart, J of Supreme Court, Katz v. United States

"I have never asked you in four years for help. Never. d" I say, starting to cry over the hone. I tried that tactic before. IT didn't work then. I can't help but think a smarter person would have either given up on him, or moved on to D.C. or somewhere else in Maryland. Guilt works on normal individuals; people who loved you and liked you and want to help if only because they feel some sense of duty or remorse for treating you bad in the past. They walk a little ways down the path with you--to make them feel better. This is normal. He's not normal.

I realize this all the more, but do it anyway because I have no one else to do it too. I'm trapped in a bad psychology. "I can save the bad, wounded birdy." Looky. The aliens play this to the hilt and have for four fucking years. MOrpheus is either really good at this or really bad--it's the fact that I can't tell that is the beauty in the whole work. He probably doesn't even know himself half of the time. IF he snapped once and turned mean, I could yell psychopath and get it over with, but he's never done it in person. d.

Feigned guilt and real guilt for the good psychopath are so close. d "Lacey, I was just so ..." Tears or fake ones. d.

Me? I love the man. The aliens all know. i.n. And his buddy. d. IF he goes home to a wife, it has to be a weird situation irregardless of the job. i.

I told him I hoped he loved someone. Maybe he treated her better. Maybe his time and energy went into her. And it would make his failings and inaction and inadequacies with me less despicable.

[My writing is a "group project"]