What I can Tell And What I Can’t Tell You

I can’t tell you how many sicknesses exist in this world…

I can’t tell you how many times you’ve been chained up and raped…

I can’t tell you how many times you failed to escape from this place…

I can’t tell you how many guards there are…

I can’t tell you how long they have been holding you hostage…

I can’t tell you if they’re going to free you…

If they are, I can’t tell you when…

I can’t tell you who I am…

Because those are the rules.

But what I can tell you…

Is that I will always be there for you.

Instagram: mister_kitty_freedom

Shrunken Eiffel Tower

We were childhood friends.

We went everywhere together.

You said you had to move one day.

You didn’t tell me where.

Why? It wasn’t because you were trying to be a jerk…

You just didn’t know.

“All I know is that there is this big tower in the town” And then you showed me a picture.

It was the Eiffel Tower.

We didn’t know what it was at the time.

After all, we were in 1st grade.

We were young.

When you moved, we stop talking.

Then I got Epilepsy.

But I didn’t let it stop me.

Everyone excluded because of it.

So I decided not to tell you.

I didn’t want to lose my only friend.

You moved.

I was bullied even more.

Later on, I went into college.

I studied fashion in Paris.

When I moved into my dorm…

You were my roommate.

You were married and had made her pregnant.

Announcement: Next week I’ll be on a trip without my stories. So there will be no story this upcoming weekend

Don’t Leave Me

Why is everyone leaving me?

Did I say something?

Did I do something?

Is it because I have Epilepsy?

Well I don’t exactly have Epilepsy…

It’s my cat named Epilepsy that has magic.

She said while leaning on a wall in a street.

I saw her transform into her demon form.

I knew she was a demon because she told me.

We were at school.

We were sitting beside each other like we always do.

The teacher was teaching like always.

But the assignment was too stressful for her apparently.

I think.

Demons have to earn their horns and wings.

She earned them, but she got them during class.

Naturally, she became famous.

A huge problem came along.

Racism.

The government put so many laws, that I couldn’t even talkto her anymore.

She is my childhood friend.

That was a problem.

I lost all of my family at a young age, so she took care of me.m

I helped her find souls to eat.

She helped me cope and medicine.

Everytime Epilepsy touched someone he gave them Epilepsy.

He accidentally touched me.

Giving me the sickness.

Why should the cat suffer?

He didn’t do anything to be a sickness.

Poor Epilepsy.

And my friend didn’t do anything for these laws to be passed.

After all…

She’s only one…

Of the tons…

Tons…and tons…

Demons of the Dead.

Instagram: mister_kitty_freedom

Dear Readers,

I wanna sit down with you.

In the middle of 2018.

As you know, I have epilepsy.

I had an orchestra concert (For school), the last one of the school year to be specific.

The president of the orchestra student council (As I like to call it) moved.

So my friend was picked to do the speech instead.

During my friend’s speech…

It’s the last thing I remember.

Then the next second…

When I blinked…

When I opened my eyes again…

The audience weren’t in their seats.

I wasn’t sitting down with my cello listening to my friend’s speech.

I was laying on the floor…

With paramedics and my parents around me instead.

They took me home in the ambulance.

I remained a scar in my heart.

Why?

I had epilepsy…

No doubt, I knew that.

My friends knew that.

My family knew that.

The church I went to knew that.

After all, I said it on a microphone at church.

But…

Now a bunch of strangers know that too.

At church, I wanted them too…

But I didn’t want the entire school to know…

Now they treat me differently…

They stare…

They treat me nicer than other people…

I feel like a fucking a sick, depressed, excluded, alien.

Is there something wrong with being epileptic?

Yes, it’s horrible to have.

But I’m still a person.

I still feel.

I still have questions.

Will I ever be able to play again? Everything reminds me of the concert.

I’m too traumatized. Am I even traumatized?

Why has almost everybody changed?

Why didn’t somebody just turn on the A.C.?

How long was the seizure?

How many people helped?

How many people faked their smiles after I regained consciousness?

How many instruments were damaged?

Why wasn’t I told I may have a seizure in the heat?

How many people didn’t care?

How many people knew about epilepsy?

How many people did not know?

How many people believed in the stereotypes of epilepsy?

I know my questions will never be answered.

But I want the world to know from my point of view.

There’s one question only the future can answer…

Will I ever be able to touch and/or play my cello again?

Judged

We broke up.

You called me weird.

Remember how I told you I was child abused?

I was in first and second grade.

It was for two years.

I was being bullied at school.

The entire family tried to take advantage of me.

And don’t forget I was being judged by the entire town.

All I had was my great-grandma.

Unfortunaly, on April 3rd during second grade, she passed away.

I became suicidal.

Since I lived down in an apartment, I wanted to go on top of the building, and jump.

But I didn’t.

Something stopped me.

I don’t know what it is.

What is it?

I wasn’t even in the United States.

I was in Mexico.

I wasn’t fluent in Spanish.

I didn’t know where I was.

I had no hope.

Why?

I would have had a little hope if I knew who God was.

Did you know all of that?

Well did you?!

No, you didn’t.

Because you didn’t let me finish my story.

I am a storyteller.

When you tell your friends I’m weird,you bring all these memories back!

When you call me weird, you bring all these bad memories back.

Next time you judge someone think about when you judged me.

You can’t make it up to me.

If you judged me you judged me.

I will never forgive you.

I will always remember that you judged me.

But if something bad happens to you…

Just remember…

Don’t mess with this

Storyteller’s stories.