My 2+2

Stab, stab, stab. That is what they like to do. I have experienced this particular weapon for most of the morning. From the time that I woke up, to when the black car drove past me in the library parking lot, to the point where I sat down at the computer to write this. It hurts like heck when they do it. It makes you feel like decking someone in the face for real. I thank God for resilience, that is as much as I am going to say about that.

Anyway, here is my 2+2

Back in Danville, Virginia, I knew that something very wicked was going on without knowing exactly what it was until later. I really do have to thank Chris Lissa Myers for that. She was wonderful in the 2+2.

One of my observations was in the types of people that had begun surrounding me. Now, mind you, Danville, Virginia was my birthplace. It was where I was raised so you should understand that I was quite familiar with who actually lived there. The city is very small. Almost everyone knew everyone or at least knew of you even if they did not have direct contact. Rumors were abundant and so was drama. Understood, when your living in such a small town where some of the best professional sports players were reared.

I began noticing many groups of bald-headed Caucasians wondering around. Even in the court house when I was going through just another custody hearing instigated by my ex-husband where he managed to kidnap my children with ‘not-so-legal’ help. I am going to call the bald-heads’ FISH in this blog entry because that is exactly what they looked like. Really freaking slimy. I do not know what those boys were thinking. That look does not compliment everyone.  They would definitely get a ticket from the Fashion police. No doubt.

Anyway these FISH began popping up everywhere! Now mind you, I cannot think of anyone who lived in Danville by that description while growing up. I have even visited or stayed there in my adulthood but cannot recall anyone who looked like that. At least, not until my gang stalking began. One particular FISH walked quickly past my vehicle while I was parked in a grocery store parking lot. I looked up from within my car, and there he was. As soon as he saw me, he walked even faster past the front of my vehicle and then held something up to the side of his face in covering so that I could not see what he looked like. I thought that was strange because I did not know this man from Adam but obviously he knew who I was. But of course, Targeted Individuals are famous amongst the gang stalkers because they all know who you are. This has been my experience. We are the celebrities in the BLACK without wanting to be.

I have also seen the FISH riding around town in very expensive limousines. The kind that I had never seen before. I viewed one limousine that hauled nothing but FISH. It was packed to the brim. I will have to admit that their taste was excellent in their means of transportation. The limo incidences happened on more than one occasion. This never happened in Danville before and it certainly wasn’t prom season. Bottom-line, there was a new crew in town, but for what? I had to guess that they were the ones aiding in the gang stalking program. At least mine anyway. You know, I never did meet another victim of gang stalking in Danville. It seemed as if everyone was stalking me. Even those that I went to high school with but, of course, even in high school, many of them were already clanned out or gang relative so it wasn’t much of a surprise to find that my so-called friends had no loyalty. Their too big on themselves, so to speak. God’s gifts to the universe.  Thanks for volunteering me for this crap butt holes.

I soon noticed that even the people from North Carolina were flooding in. They were all over. But what were they in Danville for, I asked myself. The entertainment was in North Carolina, not in Danville! Well, because of my being targeted, I guess Danville had created a new thing called the ‘GAME’ for people to buy into.  I began meeting ex-professional ball players, such as Donald Testerman who played for the Red-Skins and others, and many others. I was thrown in the view of a huge amount of military professionals (one being a Navy Seal) and government workers (even from the City Council). The type of people that I would not normally run into. Danville was definitely becoming unhinged. It was lunacy in the making. They glamorized Danville as being the next Hollywood.

Now, outside of my ex-husband, who is from Monrovia, Liberia, there were only a handful of Africans that lived there in the city. Doctors I believe they were. And at that time of my stalking adventure, I was certainly surprised because Africans barely existed in that miserly town. But…unbeknownst to me, even the Africans began piling into the city. They were always in my face, too. Dashikis and head wraps galore. I finally figured out that my ex-husband must have been having a field day while he was helping them target me. He is, no doubt, the biggest a-hole on the face of the planet. He had to get a group of people to take me down because he could not do it on his own. What a punk.

The man whom I wrote letters of invite in order that his mother, brother, and sister could come to America. The man whom I helped with his homework while he was in college. The man that I dropped out of school for. The man whom I helped payoff an IRS tax debt after he so stupidly frauded them by filing foster children on his tax returns so that he could get a bigger check. Even though I had already warned his retard self to not do it and if he did I would have nothing to do with it.  The same man whom sat his thug friends down at my dining room table so that they could plan out how they were going to fake birth certificates and social security cards. It was none of my business, he said. But negro you are sitting at my table, in my home. Yet it was none of my business. The man whom I dropped the charges on after he was arrested by Georgia in regards to a domestic dispute because he had another retarded idea to put a knife against my throat, threatening my life and so, so, so,s so much more.

Needless to say, I have been chased so much that it is obvious that someone is after me. I have been pushed out of or chased in:

Danville, Va

Greensboro, NC

Lithonia, Ga

Conyers, Ga

Atlanta, Ga

Ellenwood, Ga

Covington, Ga

My stability is shot because of these people. Should you wonder why I really do need a weapon? At some point you get tired of the bull. Instead of being men and ladies about their issues, they would rather just have a group of people beat you up. Since July of 2013, I have moved 5 times, including the brief stay at the emergency homeless shelter called Task Force in Atlanta, Ga near the Fox Theater.

I now understand better, because of the fact that I was married to an African, why the Europeans and the Africans united to target people in America and beyond. Europe was usually the place that Africans ran to escape prosecution from America. They also go to school in Europe amongst other things. Any wonder why their relationships are so tight? My ex-husband’s cousin who he claimed for a long time was his brother and one of his buddies actually did get deported. Another pal of his escaped to Europe for real and began dabbling into the porn industry. Who would have guessed?

I sometimes wonder who these FISH really are that they have the power to incorporate Africans and other foreigners, as well as Americans into their piles of garbage. Here are my guesses: 1. The European Elites 2. A Cabal 3. The KKK  4.The Mafia 5. Or all of the above? What would you guess?

And they are going around destroying innocent people, especially women because of the sport of doing it? They are either the types that use to get beat up as a kid and vowed restitution, very, very gay, a bully all of their lives in which they never knew better, totally psycho, or just extremely abused.

Either way, they are all quite stupid to think that this will last forever without some type of a rebellion. Whether they are a Hank, a Doug, a Frank, a Ahmad, Blake, a Sue or whoever. They are the slimiest of them all.

*Makes me wonder, too, if Donald Testerman’s stroke was a set-up. Now that he is in a wheelchair. Coincidentally, he had a blood clot shoot from his leg to his heart after announcing to me that he was waiting on a huge check from the NFL .  He never told me why. Just coincidence you think?

He was not a totally awful guy even though the first time that I met him at Schewel’s Furniture, he growled at me. It was disturbing, yet, funny at the same time. “Grrrrr,” he growled. It reminded me of the scene in the movie “Waiting To Exhale” where Whitney Houston’s lover climbed on top of her and then growled while they were having sex. Did she not look befuddled? It was hilarious!

Donald and I exchanged many stories. He had even invited to have a seat on the leather couch that he was purchasing from Schewels just to see how I liked it. I was like Awwww, he wants my opinion. Honestly, he was actually cool but wild at the same time so it just did not fit to see him in a wheelchair after having a stroke. He was their perfect fit. Mind you, because I was always the one that he requested to type up his contracts, the before and after is still quite vivid in my mind. I know that things happen like that all the time but why would it have to happen after he had discussed his big win with the NFL?

Hmmm…

Greed is definitely a b-i-t-c-h!

Mister

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About mstmha

Another Victim Of Gang Stalking...Digging In The Dark View all posts by mstmha

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