Thanks friends for your Bday congratulations. In fact 45 are heavy. I never expected to arrive to this age like this…. After my family's murder I spent 2 months in a mental institution., tried to kill myself. Then my sister's dead

. Before all of that I was a brave woman, orphan at 20 with 3 little and sick sibblings, wasn't as huge as this, I worked my ass off: waking up at 6, then to my day job until 5 or 6pm. Then to the U's to teach and in my free nights studying. I had a huge stamina.

The house wasn't a problem, we had a full time maid and my sister scheduled all: food, housecleaning, all. I came every 15 days with money and gave it to her for the food, pay checks, pay my brother's studies, her studies and medicines. And having half a heart she worked, a part time job office, then to her school, but at night we talked like 10 minutes: tomorrow this for food, this rooms have to be cleaned, who's clothes had to be washed. This/that needs to be painted or repaired. A perfect team, who used to fight all day. But I knew I had her to keep the house perfect and she knew I was the money provider. The family kept it's suburban middle upper class.

When my brother started working, then we could finally dress up as we liked and were taught to. We bought our clothes in the same manufacturer, like wholesale. Makeup all in wholesales. Even food. We were raised as middle upper class girls and had to keep the family in it's status.

When she went to the USA as a legal resident and worked in Hallmark, and I met my husband all was perfect. And I still helped her with her clothes, etc. She had to catch a professional guy. She was so damm beautiful, almost 6 feet tall, honey eyes and hair, so long hair and legs, a basque aristocrat, you had to see her walking, all men died for her. It was a deal, she carried the beauty and feminine intelligence and me the brain to make 20 men work as mules. But 4 heart attacks in months and those stupid american doctors treating her with TYLENOL was enough. We brought her back and she died 10 days after.

We were so practical, 2 or 4 pair of pants pret a porter, 2 o3 coats, matching colors, 2 pair of good italian shoes and their bags. Was enough then blouses in whosales in couture manufacturers, good perfume : as grams always said a "woman has to leave her perfume in every room she steps". Natural make up, of course she knew all the stores where to buy them in whosales, once a mont to the hairstylist, hands done, haircolor, all. Of course she brought all, we payed ony for the handwork.

Since the incident I don't deny it, I stopped taking care of myself. Well a pant and a blouse, my purse, perfume and a little make up.

When I saw myself bald, skinny as a copse, I knew I died. She came to me in a night gown, on of her favourite colors a green one. I was with my pajamas and she gave me hair and a light dress, we desed up. I could smell her strong spicy perfume and my jazmin one. We talked and entered to an elevator, suddenly I was alone. She never came back again, but she told me I was a good woman, and what they did to me had no name, and she didn't criticized me.

I spent the hours in a pajama, or what is supposed to be one, clean clothes made for be inside the house. Sleeping or playing with my PC. Lost the track of days, months. Today I woked up thinking it was Friday and called work because it was 2 pm and I had to be there at 6pm. It was Thursday.

Left my spiritual working the day the Lama compared an HIV person with homosexuals, drunks, etc… before that I thought I was going to come back and be at least part of the professional I was. Then the guy talked about smoking women…….. I noticed he was talking about me, because before AIDS we had a love affair and he didn't like me to smoke. I left the Studying Center, little by little my children from the bipolar center, only go out to work, then spend the days sleeping and nights playing in the computer.

I wasn't beautiful, maybe a little charming, small, size 0, olive eyes, dark hair. Have 2 bags of clothes to be washed, haven't use nailpolish in months, only a little bit of fundament, eye pencil a little of shadows, nothing else and a cheap cologne.

Today my brother was scared: I GAVE YOU 2 PACKS OF CIGARRETES YESTERDAY, WHERE ARE THEY? In my belly I answered… yes I'm the pork in the swamp.

I know I need therapy again, but: FOR WHAT? A non poz guy will run, and poz guys……. let me tell you the only professionals educated ones I know here in Lima are GAY. We call ourselves the girls. If you want to see the faces of the straight, just google a Llama. The online ones, some begin being so charming and end being drunks, junks, etc…. or convicts. I've being studying a good way to make my suicide a natural dead, studied medical books, but those drugs are sold only to doctors and none of my cousins would buy it for me. Maybe the way to get it is knowing there the hell they sell marihuana and give a good bunch to a medicine student so he can buy 2 mgrs of epinephrine or pure adrenaline, they can make a healthy heart stop in less than 15 minutes. But now where to find marihuana, the damm student and convince him/her………….

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