That's a picture of one of your Tweets.
At least you didn't tell me to make you a sandwich when you saw the chicken in my kitchen, a few days before I went to another crisis stabilization unit because I can't take what's happening to me and I don't want to live.
He can make his own sandwiches. Whatdya know?
Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to know how to make a phone call or fax a letter that could stop my being victimized by voyeurism and having to be homeless.
Copyright, with noted exceptions, L. Kochman, May 14, 2017 @ 1:20 p.m.
