mkv Spiral Farm Movie Online
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runtime - 1 hours, 25Min
average ratings - 4,4 / 10
Jade Fusco
year - 2019
Writer - Alec Tibaldi
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This movie is a masterpiece and definitely the best movie from 2019
Spiral farm. Step 1. Go to YT Search. I just got back from watching the film. Im telling everyone here to go watch it and if you cant do intense films very well, please bring a friend for moral support. This is something you MUST WATCH. Spiral farm film. Spiral farm animal. Spiral farm girl. Spiral path farm. Spiral farming. 
Appleton farms spiral ham double glazed. Spiral farm full movie 2019. Spiral farm. Spiral farm review. Yeah im so confused. Is it me or Felicity Jones and Eddy Redmayne look very similar? They could be brother and sister to me. This looks really amazing. Brilliant cinematography.
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Bruh Be More Chill. I was excited until they played “Bad Guy”.i like the song but it doesnt fit. It still looks interesting but I do hope they dont make such bad decisions in the movie itself. Spiral farm slamdance. Etheric spiral farm. Copyright ©. All Rights Reserved Disclaimer: This site does not store any files on its server. All contents are provided by non-affiliated third parties.
Spiral farms. Spiral farm fresh. Go spiral farms. Spiral farm soundtrack. Spiral farm (2019. Spiral farm movie. Omg the makeup on John Lithgow... Togo was the dog who made the longest and most dangerous stretch of the diphtheria antitoxin run. Balto just made the final stretch and got all the fame and attention. Thank you wikipedia. Dont forget this is the same guy that dropped a giant metal rod on London and destroyed it. RIP Henry Coxwell. Very interesting. Looks like a good movie. Spiral arms. Spiral farm reviews. It's just a Horror Movie, 0r is it. o QC. For anyone who's seen this: the shoes. Being a virgin is a lifestyle... Spiral farm heroes. “ITS” tho... Spiral farmacie.
Moonreich Kingdom. I kinda get what they're trying to go for here but at the same time this almost seems like a movie a dem would make, Fox news is more of a conservative network but they made the guys on the network douche bags to try and portray all guys like that when it comes to the news, Kind of interesting movie but not sure if I'd actually see it due to it's possible subtle insertion of democratic policies.
Spiral farm 2019 trailer. Spiral farm 2019 movie. That movie was hilarious. I just saw the entire movie. Spiral farm hydroponics. Spiral farmer. Now, this is how a trailer should be made - for an audience wanting to know more. (I hope I did the "flair" correctly) I am really new to Reddit, and this is my first actual post, so I apologize if I’ve done anything wrong. I’m not sure if this will even belong here, especially after reading some of the heart-wrenching stories here, but I’m going to start here. I have argued with myself about writing this for a couple of hours now, so I hope the internet doesn’t make me regret this decision. I’ve never sought counseling/therapy for any of this because, honestly, I’m afraid of the emotional/psychological loops/hurdles of dealing with a therapist. However, I have gained a lot of clarity about what has happened (in my life), and am able to process it myself and try to soundly work it over to become a better, more whole person. I think I should thank my children for that, because I see in them everything I ever hope to be, and everything I can be for them. I have my parents to thank for that. To make a long story short (I could honestly probably write another five pages on the beginning alone), my mother passed away in 1998, when I was 8 years old (I’m 26 now). There’s been speculation around her death, but nothing conclusive, and I know very little about it. My dad insists that she was murdered, while others (aunts, uncles, step-mother speculated that she killed herself. I don’t know the actual cause of death, but I intend to try figuring out if there is some way I can look into her medical records and anything else I can find, as well as records of myself. In any case, she was mentally disturbed, and while still living, lost custody of myself and my younger sister and brother (my parents were divorced at this point). My father fought the courts and received custody of us after some time of being in foster care (another messed up time). We moved a couple of times in a couple of years and seemed to be settling in as a family; he actively dated women during this time. The summer before 7th grade began, my dad introduced us to a woman and her two children and said that they were dating. This period of time is kind of all smushed together in my memory, because it got so crazy so fast. She had two children, each two and four years older than me, respectively; one girl (the younger), and one boy (the older). She and my father had met online, that much atleast, my father had mentioned (probably without even thinking about it) to me right before meeting her. Literally before I knew it, we were bringing car loads of stuff to her house when we came to visit, which was becoming an every weekend thing. I remember asking my dad if Angie knew we were moving in, and he laughed and said yes. THIS TURNED OUT TO BE A LIE! It seriously just flabbergasts me to this day, that we moved in to this woman’s house and it all just…happened. Things STEADILY tumbled downhill. I remember one night sitting between her couch and end table with scissors to my throat, sobbing, because dad was upset that Angie no longer wanted to marry him, and everyone was mad and yelling and I had no idea why. That was the start. That summer progressed, and my dad and Angie made up and got married, and my little sister, brother and I tried to get along with our new siblings.. My brother and Angie’s son hit it off pretty well, both being guys; but Angie’s daughter was a little different. I felt awkward around her, and she kind of ‘played the field’ with my sister and I, so to speak. Whoever was of most use to her that day was the one she wanted to be with. We all started going to the pool together and at first it was a lot of fun. Then something happened, I’m not quite sure what (I was really REALLY naive and trusting back then. I didn’t seem to pick up on the issues that were happening behind the scenes), but it involved Angie and her daughter, Sam. The result of whatever this conflict was, (this is going to sound so stupid, I apologize. But, I think about these little things and realize how screwed everything really was) that we girls were not allowed to wear tankinis, bikinis, or anything other than a one piece. I remember this as the start of my criticism toward Angie, because I was turning 13, had just begun flirting with boys, and she picked out the most hideous one-piece thing she could find. It had a padded bra, was too large, half purple and half zebra-print. I protested this thing vehemently, but that only seemed to encourage her. She told me it made my boobs look bigger, that modesty was a virtue, (despite the boob comment??? ) and this and that and the other thing, seeming to take some tiny pleasure out of my tears and embarrassment. We girls took to hiding our cute suits in bags and changing once we got to the pool to alleviate this problem; until one day, Angie pulled up and yelled at us through the fence to get in the vehicle. She told us we weren’t allowed to go to the pool the rest of the summer, and laughed about her ‘network of parents’ that kept her informed of everything we did. One of her friends had agreed to drive up to the pool to spy on us, and had ratted us out to Angie. More began happening; Sam ‘wanted’ me to hang out with her and her friend, and they caused a lot of trouble that I wound up taking blame for as well. At the time, I just wanted to fit in with my new sister and brother and mother, since I had never really had a mother before, and because I wanted my dad to be happy-I thought that because he married this woman and we all lived together that he wanted it and was happy. So, I went along with things I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t question anything. Angie made sure to let my little sister, brother, and I know constantly how lucky we were that our dad fought for custody of us, and how we were spared what could have been with our mother, or in the system. She constantly reminded us that we should thank him, and feel thankful for everything he’d done for us. Then she began recanting ‘tales’ of her childhood. Rapes, molestations, abuse. Everyone and everything in the whole world, it seemed like, had raped, molested, and abused her. I took these at face value for a long time. But then things got worse. I really REALLY hate recounting my tale, because to an outsider it seems like some stupid, spoiled bullshit. One time, early on in our new family relationships, my brother and my dad had an argument. Over what, I have no idea, but my father reached out and slapped him. We had had a belt taken to our butts a couple of times when it was just us and our dad, but he had never ever hit us in the face or anywhere else before. My brother (who is like four years younger than me), burst in to tears and ran off into the backyard. I screamed at my dad to not hit him ever again, and he yelled at me to back off, but I couldn’t. I’ve always felt like the protector to my siblings, even to this day as they are adults. To see my dad smack him was unacceptable to me, and I was willing to face anything to protect my brother. I ran outside and comforted him, and soon enough, things settled back down. Shortly thereafter, during the school year, Angie had a mishap at work, where she worked as an RN at a nursing home. (I’m sorry to say this, but because of her, I hate hearing people say “I know such and such about such and such. You need to do this. TRUST ME, I’m a NURSE. ” [I know not all nurses are like this] One time, she brought home needles from the nursing home and said they were flu shots, and that she was just going to administer them at home. I HATE needles, and did NOT want this shot. She forcibly restrained me and stabbed the needle into my arm and injected me. [I was a 100-120 pound something pre-teen. She was atleast 200 + and I was worried about the repercussions of fighting her back. Excuses, I know, but, at the time I didn’t think for myself I guess. ] My arm was bruised and painful for a week afterward, and all she could say was that I shouldn’t have tensed my muscles and it wouldn’t hurt so bad. ) Angie gets hurt somehow and has to take leave from work, which leads to disability, which leads to a supposed diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. To their credit, they both sat us all down and tried to explain it in a reasonable way, and explain the changes that were going to happen because of it. She was going to need surgeries and would be home a lot more. All this happened, and things continued on. A little more back-story real quick. When my little siblings and I were just with our dad, we begged and begged and begged for EVER to have a dog. Dad finally got us a dog. Three, actually, all from the same litter. We had our pups for a few months when he met Angie and somehow, miraculously, they all ‘disappeared’ during our move to Angie’s. I brought my cat, luckily, but Angie told me that she was allergic to cats, and had to send mine to a farm. (Although Angie had a cat of her own). Her son also had a dog, a weimeraner, and that dog was supposedly poisoned by a bitter neighbor and died, shortly after we all moved in together. Angie had a shitzu, that remained untouched and lived with us for another couple of years before having a heart-attack, or some such. And then the cat supposedly had a heart attack (or something equally insane sounding), and died as well. Both of these incidences happened while Angie was the only one home. She supposedly cleaned up all the blood and mess and buried the bodies (disabled, and gimping, at that) while we were all at school. But, then Angie wants another pet, and so they go to a breeder or a puppy mill or some crap somewhere, and wind up buying two puppies. A cocker spaniel, and another shitzu. The shitzu was born with a messed up foot, and had to have an extra toe amputated. Angie adored him. BUT. We weren’t allowed to have anything to do with them. (I grew up with an INSANE passion for dogs. I wanted dogs, I wanted to be a dog, I read dog breed books and training books and anything having to do with dogs, cover to cover. Dogs were my LIFE. ) (Angie also made me stop watching Animal Planet and told me I couldn’t be a veterinarian after she caught me crying softly to an episode of one of the vet shows, where they had to put an animal down after severe abuse. ) We weren’t allowed to pet them, train them, walk them, brush them, feed them, or anything. We WERE allowed to muck up shit in the backyard, where the pups spent a lot of their time because neither of my parents took the time to properly potty train them or walk them. So, since we couldn’t have anything to do with Angie’s new pets, or really share in the excitement of having a pet, we children moved on. Went to the park, tried to make friends, tried to live. Then we weren’t allowed to go to the park alone anymore. (I think these things center around Angie’s daughter Sam’s behavior, and possibly her son’s behavior, but they were all so sly about their bullshit that I still don’t know the truth. I don’t talk to either of her children anymore. My siblings and I were just backsplash, now that I think about it) We had to ask permission, and often, it was a “no”. Then we weren’t allowed to play in the street (We lived in a tiny cow-town and our street got the occasional 10 mile an hour golf cart from the fancy golf club down the street. ) Then we couldn’t play in the alley. But we didn’t want to go to the backyard because it was full of dog poop, and every time we tried to play catch or whatever, we stepped in it! So, then we had to ask permission to go to the backyard. Then she took our computers. (My dad is a total nerd, and built/repaired computers for a company and built me one of my own. Her children also had their own computers) This whole time, my dad is just fading in to the background, letting her do whatever. (As an adult, able to look back on things more clearly and rationally, I realize that all the women my dad has been with have been abusive/manipulative. ) As Angie’s illness slowly progressed, she needed more medication. Patches, pills, etc. Her stories got bigger, her rules got stricter. I wasn’t allowed to date, and the one person Angie thought would be a good match for me, was someone she admitted had severe mental illnesses due to his mother molesting him. I did not date him, needless to say. The one time I was allowed to go to the dentist, the dentist told me that I would NEED braces, or suffer severe consequences as an adult. My teeth are obnoxiously crooked. They aren’t rotted, or gross or anything, just really really crooked. I have two teeth growing on top of other teeth, and look like a deformed beaver. I relayed this message, and although my step-sister had braces and was finishing out that process, they told me that they could not afford braces. Despite all my arguments for getting braces, they still told me no, and that I should just accept myself the way I am. And that I’m ‘just so pretty when I smile’. I don’t know how to smile. Not really. (I have never been able to save up the money to get the major work needed to fix them. I now grind my teeth in my sleep because they are so crooked that my jaw wont quit trying to ‘settle them straight’. I live every day with shards of molars in my jaw because of this. ) BUT THEN, as time progressed, angie and my dad bought all sorts of extravagant stuff. They got a new car almost every year, trading each one in for a newer, more expensive one. Then they got this mega huge couch, but we weren’t allowed to sit on it. They got a mega huge TV, but we weren’t allowed to watch it. They got themselves a new tempurpedic type bed, and a television, and renovated their bedroom, and their ‘rumpus room’ in the basement. When I was a sophomore in highschool, our school started integrating laptops to all the students, to use at school and at home. We weren’t allowed to take ours home. Angie said she didn’t want the liability if we broke them. All this stuff made me upset, but I tried to rationalize what they/she said. Then I finally took an art class, and the teacher and I hit it off relatively well. I turned out pretty decent photography on the days we used the in-class camera, and my teacher wanted me to participate in our local art show. Mrs. F let me borrow one of the school cameras to use over the weekend, and I was super psyched. Nobody had ever really expressed an interest or like in any of my artwork. Angie was pissed, though, and took the camera from me, until school came back on Monday, and told me I was not allowed to borrow the school cameras because I’d probably break them. F snuck me a camera anyway, after I explained. I do not know if she knew/understood what was going on, but I really appreciated her breaking ‘the rule’ to help me. I will never forget her as a teacher. Miraculously, my little sister and I were able to leave the house during that week, where I took some shots of her and presented them to my teacher. We took these photos to the art exhibit, where I won gold on two of my shots. Angie didn’t seem to put two and two together with the photos, and since the art exhibit took place during school hours and it was a ‘field trip’, I was allowed to attend; she did, however, immediately take my medals away. I was NOT to pursue art, or anything I actually enjoyed, because it ‘wouldn’t pay well’. She told me I should just be a CNA. (Something I’ve never done and will never do because of her) Sometime during my sophomore year, my step-brother had a huge blow up with her and left the house for good. Then she instigated a 24/72 hour rule for us. If we wanted to go outside, to the park, with a friend, or whatever, we had to ask 24 hours in advance. If we wanted to spend the night, we had to get at least 72 hours of notice in there. Needless to say, I only ever slept over at one persons house one time, and only ever had one person sleep at my house one time. It didn’t help that that person was my then girlfriend, and for some stupid reason, I revealed this to Angie, who told me I WAS NOT gay, that I was ruining my girlfriend’s life, and that her parents were going to beat her if they found out we were dating. (They weren’t. ) [I’m also not gay, but explaining bisexuality to anyone is, atleast in my experience, has been an arduous task. ] When I had started to enter highschool (and my two years in middle school in Angie’s town), I was trying really hard to fit in because I’d never been in one spot long enough to make friends. Angie dressed me in the weirdest, goofiest, clothes she could find, and clucked at me for not liking them. Finally, when I was 14, she told me to get a job. And buy the clothes that I wanted. Which was a fucking god send. I got a job immediately (as a child I had mowed lawns, babysat, checked on peoples pets for them, etc. and this was my first corporate job) and loved the freedom it gave me. The pay, however, was another story. I worked very near full time every week after school and on weekends. There were some nights at closing that I didn’t get home until 11 or so. My paychecks were sweet, but I was only allowed to have $40 of it, if I had been good. BUT, I wasn’t allowed to buy food with my money, or gifts (because it’d ruin Christmas for her), and she didn’t let me wear the clothes I had bought because they were not modest enough. (They were BELLBOTTOMS!! And hot topic shirts! ) I was allowed to buy a car, and had to pay for all the insurance and all that good stuff, which I didn’t care about because I had a car that was all mine. I did all the repairs on it, dumped a fuck ton of money in to it (89 pontiac Bonneville. I loved that car because we had the same birth year and it was a big, metal beast). But, I was only allowed to drive it certain places, and eventually not at all. (Of course. ) Food was a big issue in our house. Like I said, I wasn’t allowed to buy food. And I wasn’t allowed to eat food at work. I was supposed to come home and eat the cold crap sitting in the microwave. (This was expected of everyone. ) angie liked to periodically make us eat crap like a hambone/beans in water with no salt, no nothing, because ‘that was what she had to live on and feed her siblings’ while she was raising them and being raped/molsted/abused/abducted/blah blah blah for a million years. (I’m sorry for the cynicism. ) We were not allowed to eat except at designated meal-times. We were only allowed to eat what she cooked. We could not have seconds. We could not have snack. I remember one time my sister and I were really hungry, so we were super stealthy and quickly toasted up a piece of bread and buttered it and sprinkled cinnamon sugar on it, and snuck back to my room to eat it. We were so giddy at our bad behaviour that we started giggling as we tried to take a bite and inhaled the sugar and started choking. We can laugh about it now. Another time, I was really hungry and so snuck a jar of peanut butter home and was sitting there in my room nomming it, when Angie bust in through the door. I hurled the peanut butter to the floor and sat on top of it while she panicked and demanded to know what I was hiding. I was in tears, freaking out, and told her I was working on a mother’s day present. She calmed down and left me after that. I panicked though, because I now had to come up with something for her for mother’s day. (I wound up painting a picture of her as an angel, because she loved angels. She had them everywhere. They were creepy. ) Steadily, Angie and her daughter’s relationship degraded. I faded between being on Sam’s side, and being on Angie’s side. I didn’t feel that either of them were right, but I didn’t understand what was wrong, either. One day, Sam did something and Angie wound up ‘beating’ her. And by beating, I mean, she grabbed Sam’s hair and shoved her on the bed before losing her footing and kind of falling on top of Sam while smacking her with her gimpy arm. (She was losing feeling in her arms and legs due to the “MS” and “botched surgeries”) I screamed and picked up the phone to call my dad, thought better of it, and set the phone back down on the receiver. Angie was a firm believer in ‘what goes on in this house, stays in this house’, so I feared the repercussions of calling for help, if it wasn’t really ‘that big of a deal’. This all happened before school, and in the middle of the school day, Sam comes to me and tells me that she’s talked to a social worker, and that it was my turn. She had scratched her arms all up during her interview. I went in and was surprisingly calm…. I told them I thought Sam was being overdramatic, and that she had been making faces and being obnoxious to angie. I told them I don’t agree with everything that goes on in my house, but that there are a lot of people out there that have it worse. They commended me for ebing so ‘mature’. Nothing happened for a long time, until one day upon coming home from school, there was a black SUV parked outside. My stomach lurched. It was a social worker………. I knew things were going to get bad. The social worker we had talked to at school was sitting inside talking to Angie and my dad. They were all having a jolly good conversation and getting along. The social worker left seeming to think things were okay, but recommending a family care plan for a little while. We had two women come out periodically to talk to us, but Sam was really the only one who disclosed anything. The woman that I and my little sister talked to was really kind and understanding and patient, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. Then, Angie started saying that she had had a lesbian affair (?! ) with the other social worker a long time ago, and that it was a conflict of interest, and eventually our case managed to peter out, leaving us alone to deal with our crap again. Sam called the police once on Angie, and again our parents sweet talked them. Sam eventually moved out with a foster family (a teacher at the school who she had convinced to let stay with them), and it was just my little siblings and I. I may mention that I hate Sam. I hate her with everything that I am. She is as cruel, calculating and manipulative as her mother was. She often made mention of her and her mothers bodies (they had large breasts) and offhandedly made me feel like I was not pretty because I didn’t have the same…’assets’. (ETA: they often teased me if I wanted to do my hair or makeup)I was constantly a third wheel while Sam went out with her friend and I and guys, and played like she was this high stakes virgin princess. During the period of time that it was just us three kids, the duty of asking for things would fall to me. I would play the mind games required to convince Angie to let us leave for a little while, or go outside. My brother was able to join sports and spent a lot of his time that way, my sister had Scholar’s Bowl and other stuff, and I just kind of ran recon around the house when I wasn’t working. I remember one time I was having terrible period cramps, and my dad said something really fucked up to me. He asked me if I was having a miscarriage. I wanted to die when he asked that, because I had previously (in a mental ploy to get on Angie’s ‘good side’) confided that I was sexually active and wanted to get on birth control; but I was really safe about having sex, and Angie had told me that I could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge. (LIE) I used to think my dad was a super man, and to hear him be so cruel was heartbreaking. During ALL OF THIS, Angie’s little shitzu (Billy was his name. The dogs names were Jon-Boy and Bill-Bob) died. Somehow. Again, it was while everyone but her was gone. The cocker still lives today, but he is mutilated (supposedly from a random kid shooting a BB gun) and mangy, despite my numerous attempts at offering to help with him. So she gets another dog. A poodle from the shelter named Suzi. Again, suzi winds up perishing. While everyone is gone but Angie. Then, she gets another dog, same thing, and another dog. SAME THING. This is over the course of years. She went through about a dog a year. (I can’t believe I didn’t do/say something sooner about this, but honestly, I. ’t know, ) When I was an adult and had a child of my own, and a dog, I stupidly let Angie watch my child and dog when I had to go work last minute. She called me at work in tears and I was FLIPPING, thinking something had happened to my daughter. Angie kept stuttering and wailing and saying I was going to hate her. I yelled at her to spit it out, and she told me that MY DOG had supposedly eaten a tulip bulb or something, choked, and died. Supposedly, Angie took her to the vet and the vet did tests and blah blah blah, and Angie said she would pay for it. (LIES) I was honestly just relieved that nothing had happened to my child. (PLEASE, please don’t tell me how stupid it was to let her watch my child. My heart races now when I think about it and how stupid it was. ) Another time as an adult, I had run out of gas on my way to a really important, HUGE job interview, and I called Angie. (The only person I knew to call) She laughed at my situation, and I got mad and hung up. She came, I thought, to maybe help me get some gas [my van shit out two feet too far from the pump] but instead made me get in the van where she took me home and I completely missed my interview and the chance at a good paying job with the company. ((Sorry, I kind of jumped around there, but I’m trying to just get it out before I lose my nerve and delete everything I’ve written)) During this time I had taken to cutting myself. Although, I hesitate to call it cutting, because it wasn’t really deliberate. It was more like slashing, because I would just slash against my wrists and shins to distract myself from my anger at everything going on. It was a quiet way to relieve tension, because if I got too loud or too angry in a noticeable way, I was in even more trouble. One time, I slashed myself so badly that the wound would not stop bleeding for like three days. I was too afraid to tell anyone, so I fashioned a tourniquet and wore it around under my jeans until the third day or so when I thought ‘maybe I should tell someone before I lose more blood’…. I did…angie wouldn’t take me to the hospital, she just put steri-strips on it and let it heal. I still have a huge scar where that happened. But, afterward, Angie would parade my sister and I around in the living room in just our underwear, to check for fresh cuts. (My baby sister had taken to cutting as well) It was humiliating. (ETA: it has taken me years to be able to sleep in past 630-700am, and if I hear the sound of dishes/silverware clanking I can't go back to sleep. Angie used to get up very early and clang things around loudly or stomp up and down the stairs. When asked what was wrong she would growl that it was nothing or that we should know. ) After this, Sam re-appeared in my life and essentially started ‘grooming’ me at work. She’d come in and chit chat with me, let me lament to her about everything going on at home. She started encouraging me to leave, and told me that I could stay with her. My 17th birthday rolled around and I was outside picking weeds as a punishment for something, when I noticed that one of the vehicles parked out back’s doors were open and wires were stringing out of it. (The vehicle was my step-brothers, who had parked it there during his deployment. He and my parents had a very tepid relationship, which added to the confusion after everything) They accused my boyfriend (who I wasn’t supposed to be seeing) of having done it (no proof. At all. He had never even been to my house) and I got mad. I snuck stuff out to my car throughout the afternoon and when I went to work that night I called my step-sister and told her I was running away. After work, I went to the police station and just flat out told them I wasn’t going home. I told them that it wasn’t horrible, but that my parents and I don’t see eye-to-eye and I can’t go back. They called my parents who told them to keep me. JIA came in an interviewed me, and by SHEER DIVINE LUCK, I was placed with my step-sister. They wanted me put in Juvey, but there wasn’t enough space, and my case wasn’t an emergency. It was pure luck that I went home with Sam that night. (That night I laid on her couch and sobbed myself to sleep because I had made a terrible mistake. I thought about getting up and walking the few blocks back home because I felt like a wretched fool for leaving my dad and siblings behind over something so stupid. I had a dream that the blankets had tentacles and were trying to smother me. I physically wrestled with the tentacles and when I awoke the next morning I had actually moved the blanket across the room. ) Things quickly spiraled out after that. Sam used me to get back at her mom every chance she got; used me for money (I wound up working two jobs to support her and her new baby, who I was expected to be a free babysitter to). Sam eventually had me taken away because I was tired of paying for ultra-expensive cable bills, tired of watching her baby all the time, tired of her regulating/limiting/bossing me around like her mother had. I went to the ‘good’ side of the Juvenile detention center in a city nearby. I caught wind of my siblings and boyfriend, and friends all having issues and couldn’t take being in the center any longer. I planned all night, and the next morning at dressing time, I put on three pairs of underwear and socks, a couple pairs of pants, and a couple pairs of shirts, and claimed I was cold so I could wear my coat. I waited until dinner feeding time, then asked to get a drink of water, took a sip, and bolted out the back door. I made it far, hitchhiked a ride, made it back to my town where I was on the lam for a good week. Eventually, my then boyfriend turned me in and I was arrested. I went to the ‘bad;’ side of the center this time. I was in there for what seemed like an eternity. My parents came down for a visit one time. Then ight before they came I became violently ill……bad. But I went with them anyway because I wanted to be out of the center. I sobbed and begged and pleaded for them to please not take me back. I wanted to come home. I was so sorry, they were right about everything, that I was trash…Everything. I have a lump in my throat thinking about that day right now. I’ve never felt more helpless than when I begged and sobbed and crumpled to my knees in a heap of snot and tears that day, not caring who saw me, not wanting to be cool, not wanting to be grown, not wanting anything but to come home to my fucked up little world. They said they couldn’t. That if I had come home sooner, they could have taken me, but now it was too late. (I later learned that was also a lie. They just didn’t want to jump through the hurdles needed to do so. ) I was finally discharged three months before my 18th birthday, and placed in a foster home. (another messed up time) As an adult, Angie and I still engaged in mental theatrics, ; but as I became a mother myself, I began challenging her. It may sound stupid, but I didn’t feel like an adult, I didn’t realize I WAS an adult and could stand up to her. I never knew true love until I had my children, though. I never knew the physical and mental power you gain as you become a mother. I couldn’t let her evil seep onto my children. Whenever I didn’t play angie’s games I suffered repercussions for it. (such as my dogs death, or the job) Or she wouldn’t show up for her granddaughters birthday, using her illness(ses) as an excuse. As time trickled on Angie claimed to have an extensive list of ‘illnesses’-MS, arthritis, fybromialgia, and others that I couldn’t even begin to repeat took more and more and more pills, lost more and more and more weight. Her stories became incredible. Everything anyone said, she had a story to top it. She ‘had biker friends’ that would ‘visit her at 2-3am’ when nobody else was awake. She was supposedly part of the biker gang, and had names for each of the men. She even, at one point in time, tried to ‘set me up’ with one of the guys. (I was single, and not wanting to date, so of course she pushed harder for me TO date) By the end of it all, all of us children had left the house before 18. Most of us went to foster homes/transition homes, and my little sister went to a psyche ward because she was suicidal, and then went to a girls home. The last time I talked to my step-brother he called to tell me that Angie was dead. I don’t remember the exact date, but I will never forget that day. I was stunned into silence and then started laughing, like, insanely. I asked him if he was joking. He said he wasn’t. I was stunned into silence for awhile longer before he asked me if I was okay. I wasn’t sure how to project myself to him, and turned it around on him. I asked him if he was okay, and we tried to figure out the details. I still don’t know REALLY how he even knew of her death. Supposedly, he heard it from his Aunt, who heard it from our dad. But, when my dad tells it, he says that he never told the Aunt, and then rants about social media spewing everyones personal business everywhere. Dad says the situation went down like this: (He works early) He said goodbye to Angie and kissed her forehead. She was still asleep. He got home and she was still in bed, but he didn’t think too much of it and showered and all that. When he came back to their room he went to her for whatever reason, and realized she was dead. He says he called the police and waited for them to come while he was holding her lifeless body. He said after all that, after they’d taken Angie from the house and finished with him, that a sheriff pulled up telling him to give his children a call because we didn’t know what was going on. (He says he thinks the neighbors spouted the events onto facebook and SOMEHOW these neighbors that we have never met shared it with our aunt and us. It’s…, to say the least, but he wont hear anything else. ) He says that she died of natural causes. I THINK, the situation went down with the only similarities being the start of the incident. I think Angie took a bunch of pills, either as a ruse to get attention and not really wanting to go through with it, or to really go through with it. I think she killed herself. I honestly think my dad knew about it, to some extent, but was so battered that he wasn’t going to actively stop it. I won’t push him further than I have on that, although I have made my thoughts clear. I think he called Angie’s sister and told her first, and that information cascaded to my step-brother, which cascaded to me. THAT’S what I think happened. I didn’t even go to Angie’s funeral. Not by choice, though. I just had nobody to rely on to get me there (I was living 2+ hours away from Angie’s town at this time), and my vehicle was kaput. I’m not saddened that I didn’t go, though, it sounded horrible. Sam was there, and they played Nickleback and Velvet Revolver and other music like that that Angie loved (which makes my ears bleed now). Honestly, when I was told that she was dead, a whole world of weight lifted off me…That sounds bad, but I immediately thought of the munchkins in the movie ‘the Wizard of Oz’, and their glee at the witch being smashed. I thought I would finally get my dad back, and that the evil that had corrupted us for so long would be cleansed. But, Angie’s memory still haunts us faintly. My dad and I had a big falling out shortly after her death, and the realization that my dad was a totally pussy coward throughout that time hit me very hard. We are working on our relationship now, but I am really forthcoming and blunt with him, and have no qualms if he needs to kick rocks. I have four children, of whom I found true love. I realized last year that I hardly smiled at my children. That I hardly smiled at anyone; but smiling at your child and not having them smile back is heartbreaking. I took the time to be a little crazy with my very-understanding husband, and have been processing everything and allowing myself to feel what I need to feel. I have major confidence issues. The charisma I once had is gone. I have few friends (and I should mention that those friends are my children and husband). I have no life. But, I am slowly trying to rebuild those things. It isn’t easy at all. I sincerely hope any of this makes the least bit of sense. I really can write, I promise; but I didn’t want to stop and over-think anything I wrote in case I got cold feet and deleted it. I’ve never shared this this openly before, so it’s literally just word vomit (I left so much out, as well, which is part of the reason for jumping around. This document is already at four pages. ). I appreciate anyone who actually read through all this chaos and I apologize if I am in the totally wrong forum (the traits describe in the side bar fit Angie to a T). ((And I know my sister might be on here, or could be on here eventually. If you think this is about us, it is. [Edited to remove my sisters nickname]])) ((Edited for formatting and a couple additions, marked ETA)).
Holy shit. I remember this guy as a james bond villain, damn he got old. Spiral farm portugal. 200-300 done and only gotten 5 or 6 advanced orbs. =l. Spiral farm metacritic. Reason why we love huskies ❤️.
Smh everyday we are reminded why White people. Nvm
Hillshire farm spiral sliced ham how to cook. This dude was so neglected, abused, and traumatized that I'm surprised he was even stable enough (alive even! to tell his story. This was a sick sick flick. Watch spiral farm. Spiral farm movie review. Spiral farm rotten tomatoes. Do not watch it boring af.
Coauthor: Grand B
Resume: 映画フリーク。100インチ超シアタールームにて鑑賞が日課。基本英語字幕又は生。英語フランス語はベラベラいける口。チーズ愛ぎょうさん。日本酒・焼酎極め。英会話指南でもあり。
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