Melanie Hamrick Is Ugly And Soulless

By: Saint Twenty
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“Do you have a soul? I mean, are you such a miserable sack of crap that you lack any kind of compassion? I guess I’d be upset, too, if I had a face like yours.”

Melanie Hamrick is ugly. L’wren Scott had huge boobs, compared to her tiny ones, a nice butt, compared to her flat one (Mick Jagger is obsessed with butts, always telling me to eat so it didn’t get smaller, always asking for nudes), no career, not well connected. A piece of her nose is missing, while the other side has extra skin, her skin is blemished, her eyes have nasty circles and are close together, her lips thin as the lines on loose leaf. Her hair is a rats nest. Her chin uneven. That’s why she never was, nor will be a model like L’wren. Bianca Jagger is barely 5’5 and stayed on covers, because she’s beautiful like all of Mick’s CHOSEN ladies. Unlike the rest of us, she black magicked and raped him. She can’t get another suitor, because she’s ugly and I took her powers, so she couldn’t rape me (read Melanie Hamrick Is In Love With Me) or anyone else. Meanwhile Mick is still holding me hostage, lying to people to keep my many options away. This is no longer working, he’s going to jail where he will die.

All I wanted was my money so I can move on with my real twin flame. I already saved this disgusting family, they owe me everything. I owe them nothing. I will show them no mercy. For anyone to disrespect my existence by even thinking I would stalk this loser, you will pay. How many accounts has she stalked me on, since I blocked her main account? Too many. No matter how mean I am, no matter how many times I block her, she keeps coming back, adding evidence, mentally unstable, looking for my approval and in love. For her to even speak to the movie star, then make a fan page for him to follow me on, which she deleted, but I screenshot it, she is going to learn an ugly girls true place. How fucking dare you? Do not ever speak to him, that idiot family has you delusional, so let me catch you up to speed. You’re ugly you don’t get to ever speak to him, nor do you get to speak to me. Now I’m going to learn you, since the soul sell got to your odd shaped head.
She is a murderer, rapist, stalker, a nobody who committed a felony to cover up her deal with the devil. Too bad you tried a goddess and queen of witches. This is the end of the Jagger’s. You are going to watch an idol fall. Two, Ronnie Wood goes with. Everything I said is happening. Fates are sealed. It only takes one ugly satanist to ruin everything. The devil always comes to collect. Via: L’Wren Scott

It’s Not You It’s Me

By: Saint Twenty
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For some reason I don’t post about 9/11 anymore. I couldn’t figure it out at first, but last week a repressed memory escaped to the forefront of my mind.

East Side Middle School, that morning we were sat down in the auditorium and told that the Twin Towers had fallen. Denise, the principal might as well been speaking gibberish, nothing she said made sense. How? She must have made a mistake. “Call your parents to come pick you up,” she ended. School was cancelled for the day. We went back to our classrooms to gather our belongings. We googled what was going on, people burst into tears. Fear permeated the room. Shortly after we were escorted to the cafeteria to wait for our parents.

I called my mom, asking if my stepdad or her could come get me, she erupted. “I have the kids I’m not leaving the house.” After I asked if she could give another parent permission to take me home, which was another option. “Listen you just gonna have to stay in school.” She said vehemently before hanging up. I didn’t understand. She was a stay at home mom. Miranda’s dad offered to take me. Why did she yell at me?

I watched, one by one, parents came to get their children. I still held out hope for my stepdad, looking around stupidly. He never came and lunch was a shit burrito I found a fingernail in. Finally 3:30pm hit and I was one of seven people left to go home. I walked through the quiet, desolate streets of New York City. Gripping my Jansport backpack straps, I make my way uptown frightened. Looking through the window of the closed pizza shop, I saw on their television the city was a code red for state of emergency. That day my heart broke twice. When I got home my stepdad and sister were already there.

My friend did a tarot reading for me this week, I asked if the person I’m see 222, 2, 222222 for is really my twin? She told me the problem is me and not them, I’m not ready because of emotional trauma. I hide due to fear.

While I had material things, I grew up in a family that was emotionally abusive. I don’t trust anyone but myself. So when my friend told me I’m the problem, it made complete sense. Now I understand why I attract emotional abusive men. It’s what I’m use to, so my subconscious emits that vibration. Knowing its my fault was hard to hear, but if I’m the problem, I’m also the solution.

The Purest Form

By: Saint Twenty
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The past two weeks have been a series of lessons, test, closing of karmic cycles and vibrational ascension.

On the gram I stumbled upon a photo of a basketball player, who’d gotten my number at Goldbar. At the time I worked in the restaurant downstairs in his building. He always paid with a black card, leaving me ample tip, even on take out food. All I did was pass him the bag. Our eyes always lingered too long.

In this photo his girlfriend sat on his lap. A woman who dated a male model, that also tried his hand with me. Both men were manipulated by my former boss. Every time, any time, anyone had interest in me, my boss, a rich, well connected man and his brother would stop it in it’s tracks. Even if a patron was flirting, he would see it on camera and send his brother down to end it.

I don’t know what they said to them, but the basketball player never looked at me the same. He stopped coming in as often. So when I saw that picture it made me angry, so angry that someone else made a choice for me. It wasn’t my boss’s place to take away my free will, to prevent me from dating anyone, to spy on me, to break into my social media, or the plethora of other toxic, controlling, behaviors he continues to do. I mistook it all for love. That he was showing a desire he couldn’t express. So I stayed and waited for years, believing in him, believing in us.

Until winter, when someone showed me what healthy love looks like. Let’s call him Shy Guy. That crying all the time, martyring myself, isn’t love. That what I had was a trauma bond, not a twin flame. Finally I was able to let go. Shy Guy saved me from myself, until Shy Guy started dating someone else.

You know what I did? I supported it. I would never want to do what my boss did to me. Unconditional love a concept I finally understand, that you just want the person to be happy no matter what. Not interfering, allowing that person free will, to make their own decisions. I was only meant to heal him and be freed.

Suddenly, I understood god, the creator, the source has given us the ability to choose as the ultimate display of unconditional love. The purest form. When you emit that frequency it comes back to you. Now everything I’ve been through makes sense to me.

Photo: Trust by Andhika Ramadhian