This is just a therapeutic post for myself.
There is a game with no name, played all over the world by people of a mercenary nature. Like spies and bounty hunters they have to protect some people and attack others and ultimately regardless of who they work for, it’s for their own ego boost/gain to play.
Note: Remember hunting is not the same as a sport – the victims, targets, marks don’t get a say. They’re not even informed of the rules nor can they defend themselves.
Every member in this game is out for themselves/their pack. To keep their skills honed they’ll divide themselves and surround a person to either defend or attack. It’s role playing. They have no interest in the victim other than their role at the time.
One version of this game played in the UK is for one team to get a target from point A to B relatively safely.
One version played in the UK from US players with UK assistance is time sharing a victim to build up a scenario with them and then start attacking and defending, sometimes they change sides and the victim never knows. The problem is their attack skills are far better than their defense skills so a ‘win’ for the defending side isn’t much of a win, actually it’s a miracle if they manage it, that’s how amateurish they come off as. If they ever had to defend themselves they’d be goners, they’d probably just run and hide leaving everyone but their nearest and dearest to fend for themselves since they don’t use the limited skills they have to help anybody.
All I have to remember is that “William always gets his mark” so because he dislikes losing ‘all’ I have to keep doing is putting pressure on the slow, useless slapper to hurry up and no I’m not giving him anything, no “fringe benefits”. He’s “the best we have to offer”, gawd this maiden in distress has been robbed.
I wish he’d gone to Virgina instead like he was supposed to and played the storyline on the lawmakers there instead of bothering me, although of course I wish none of this had ever happened and that people like that didn’t exist.
Pt 1 HERE
We found a new place via an emergency scheme, we were almost homeless before a couple of years ago and as many people know unless you’re elderly, very young, disabled and/or pregnant you don’t really qualify for any help and I’ve been told in the past “[as long as] you can run [we can’t help you]”. In the current situation it reminds me of when I really young and Mum was trying to escape a lot of shit and we hostel hopped a lot.
The landlord of the caravan and camping park (they claim it’s a holiday long let but they have residential tenants, the local council know and apparently according to site staff the site isn’t supposed to be open all year round but they don’t care) wrote and said they believed we had left already. Their ‘get out’ memo style letter (not a legal eviction notice) said we had to be out by 12 Nov 2016, I don’t know why they believed we’d left other than they and others have used our rented property for convenience, littering and to take our plants though according to their words and actions neither the adjoining garden (which every caravan has) and the porch/stairs (which we have to use to get in and out of the caravan) were ours/rented. Basically we’ve always been quiet, kept to ourselves and polite when speaking to staff usually every two weeks but apparently that was offensive too even though we’ve had to put up with post being waylaid, opened, things being moved, broken, taken and added to the property when we go out etc e.g. the fleur-de-lis and much more recently someone(s) watering the potato plant we were growing inside (which we’d been trying to keep dry) and the windows being open today and some of Mum’s diaries missing.
The people on site have also acted in conjunction with the thing (human psi-ops and/or otherwise) that possesses and systematically tortures my family and I (and the voice(s) are far more than ‘gang stalking’ which in itself is enough to kill victims, put them in psychiatric wards or prison). I remember when ‘it’ claimed that it was going to relocate to Sandown/Shanklin to be closer but then claimed to be working on site/in nearby caravans. I know that it/they can affect others at the same time such as ‘random’ people on the street who stop and say something as if they know us, and that’s aside from the ‘gang stalking’ – the people I’m talking about act as if they forget why they stopped in the first place and shake themselves out of it.
I’ve never believed that it’s ok or right to find concession from a bad situation e.g. ‘well at least I got stronger’ but it’s something I do since it sums up my whole life. I want to say at least we won’t have to put up with only our electricity going off on site, the rumbling/shaking at the front of the caravan at night, strange bumps on the walls/ceiling and hostility from ppl/people/others on site but this behaviour has followed us everywhere and I’ve already seen evidence of it.
I wonder if the wireless networks that appeared at the same time as ‘William’ will be a permanent feature; they’re called ‘TIME GOES BY… SO SLOWLY’, ‘Patience is a virtue’ and ‘I can’t believe it’s not butter’. Hilarious. I’m currently in a state of numbness, I can’t appreciate satire/irony/parody anymore but I still find my situation surreal/unreal whilst living it and I hate the entire thing.
There’s only one Jeff Hardy; one of a kind, unique, mystique.
There ain’t no other man like him. I really hate psi-ops pretending to be those they’re not and totally violating your life. I also really hate the rapist-name William Defoe who wants a son (the Brotherhood of Man ‘prince’ needs a son). If any ‘trans-dimensional’, ‘ultraterrestrial’ (or hell just US-UKmilitary, Core Central Intelligence Alliance/Allegience CCIA – lookup ‘Hamilton’) fools come-a-knocking on your body/vessel/vehicle/door just keeping refusing and don’t bite, no ‘lovebites’ (relationship operation, look it up); no blood, spinal fluid, bodily fluids nor espeically vaginal fluid (‘seeding’ ‘seedling’ ‘seeded’, even ‘superseeded’, ‘pregnancy’ is the success term).
Interesting nicknames used: Venus, (Heaven for another ‘mark’/target), Julius Ceasar an interesting play on words given the ‘cessarian’ name/method link.
(Sidenote Reminderfor the truth – memory lane:)