Hush I Have Lands

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Chapter 10

Why do men almost certainly marry for the goodness out of their feeding selves why do not they like good woman when young and only come out tortured when older? That a good woman is a woman who as a youth they avoid like the plague.

What matters his meanness got the better of him he thought nothing about me he did not know what I had to go through as he so happily occupied.

I had a job did not I did he know what I had to do with that little money?

My list against him grew and grew until it blew my head off.

High mindedness cost me so much suffering I should have accepted his remarks and made off with the things he did ask and negotiated and made it within a group thing. Why did not I say yes to him and his wife? Love is about this commitment and as I say I am a good woman. I do not think that he knew consciously his wife gay.

“What matters is she a huge legend?”

“What meanness she had.”

“What meanness?”

“That is what I remember about her.”

But she famous. Mostly the fame does last for them they are known for not paying shops not paying at all because the thing is most of them when they want something, they just are given to them as presents.

“Actually.”

“Actually?”

“I paid for my boots cost me fifty quid.”

The thinking behind such behaviour is that we are all these people underneath it all.

So, what happened was I did not get along in school due to home circumstances I did not have enough homework did not have an essay to my name. Did not have enough of anything when they came and took it away all of it away.

We are here we are there we do not definitely love our families when society too loves us as well. I am a most beloved daughter I was supposed to be a whore. I am a witness to some crime not mine. This is not a stress call this is a woman asking what does time do? Dad has no idea he has no idea that it is bad to behave like he had.

He the thief took my mirror what mattered he took something I was not dreaming I had evidence of bad behaviour. In the never existence of belief they did not could not see that I was that woman calling for help. I felt that nobody understood me as if a language of pain is the most foreign language ever. That I was to be shamed that I was to be shame.

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