The Crazy Schizo Stalker and His Network

The crazy schizo… every single mental health patient has a story. Today, I will tell you the story of a crazy schizo stalker and his network. A mental case that society let free, and a society is corrupted by criminal organizations.

And yes—this is a high-level criminal network.

He is crazy. He is dangerous. So crazy and dangerous that, one year, from his own house, he dared to order a wife for himself!

It was the second time I met him and his dirty, vicious, organized crime circle.

The first time, I stood up for a young woman—a Chinese woman—facing what was essentially an “arranged marriage.”

She trusted me because I defended her. In that dirty, top-level organized crime network, standing for someone’s rights was dangerous.

Today, I met him again. Like any other day, while I was out. The crazy… the CHEST NUT.

God knows how many people died in that “chest nut” house. The network was so corrupt, so untouchable, that no one dared investigate. And he continued living his crazy way.


Envy, Desire, and Family Control

He was always envious of his beautiful twin brother: curly hair, smile, intelligence, cars, bikes, clothes, world trips, and of course, a lot of women.

And that’s exactly what he wanted: sex, affection, kids, power. That’s what his family wanted to give him, just to control him.

But he was already violent, even toward his own family. He had wanted to kill his own mother. In his house, there were more than three dead bodies, and he was crazy before he became part of the extended family.

But family business is family business.

And me? I ended up as the confessor, listening to everyone—crazy there or part of theirs dirty networks.


The Making of Evil

Because he was always on the edge, his father taught him the art of disguise—to hide his feelings of inadequacy, to smooth over the fact that he was not like his brother. Step by step, he became more crazy, collecting clothes, shoes, and devising indirect ways to revenge people, plotting in his twisted mind.

Then, organized crime saw in him the perfect asset—someone to manipulate, to execute crimes, to twist the networks in their favor.

His family knew that he was behind all the dirty crimes, plots, and alliances in town. And protected him!

He became THE EVIL. In his mind, God gave everything to his brother and mother—and nothing to him.
He wanted everything for himself. At ANY cost!

His sister, skilled in intelligence, noticed the family dynamics. She decided to leverage his mental illness and desire for revenge for her own gain. She approved all his crazy wishes and gained his trust.


The House of Horrors

When he requested to live independently, it wasn’t a problem for his enlarged family and their network (they belonged to a respected social and religious group) to financially support him.

A whole house was just for him.

And everyone in that house had to be liked by him. Anyone “uncomfortable”? Dead.

So many dead bodies, and no one investigated.


The Nurse

He heard about a foreign nurse who could make people’s wishes come true. Even though he could pay for everything, winning the heart of the young Chinese woman was difficult.

He hired the nurse with one order:

“I want this Chinese girl to fall in love with me and have MY baby.”

The nurse refused. The organized crime network was furious. She was fired… after having her coffee poisoned.

Later, he brought in the entire family—nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, friends—all to serve him, to obey his desires.

To “ human traffic” a young Chinese woman with mental health problems for a crazy old man? Nothing.

The network and family ensured that his wishes were obeyed.

The crazy man was always afraid. Afraid of being called crazy.


Desensitizing the Crazy One

His sister and the dirty professional support network decided to desensitize him to women. If he wanted sex, kids, and a “normal life” supported by a dirty network, he needed to look normal.

They needed a trigger to make the crazy man “healthy.” The nurse became that trigger.


Corruption Everywhere

The nurse realized the full scale of corruption: police, politics, religion, healthcare, organized crime, intelligence services—all colluding with the crazy family. There was no friends left unaligned.

She was isolated, helpless in a hostile place. Anyone who knew the story was automatically one of them.


Today

Today, on the street, he walked disguised as another persona: jeans, clean coat, curly wig like his brother, sunglasses, hands rigid but out of pockets. Calm but anxious, secure, free, full of new tricks.

Finally: He was in charge—controlling others, putting down those beneath him, deciding who gets crumbs, who gets access.
HE BROKE THE NURSE!

The nurse smiled at her brokenness, pitying a society where crazies and organized crime overpower genuine souls.


The Witch

She remembered the old occult lady in the coffee shop:

“What would you do if you were a witch?”

“I would make a better world,” she thought. Because if God allows this to happen to good people… maybe it is not God, but Evil.

Perhaps being a witch and saving God from Evil is the only path left.

Someone must stand for God and normality, because Evil and craziness are allowed to rule—and if they do, humanity is destroyed.

They smiled… and, for some unknown reason, an image came to her mind of a remote Nordic rural place—Sweden, Norway. And the witch said:

“I am not dead!”
“And you know it!”

The nurse kept walking, knowing… as long as craziness and Evil are allowed to rule, humanity will be destroyed.

Someone must fight for God, for normality, and for justice.


This story is about madness, corruption, courage, and the courage to see the truth.

A Sandwich, a Symphony, and Sunshine

There he is—Panama hat tilted just right, white T-shirt with a palm tree that looks like it survived the laundry wars, a cellphone stuffed in his chest pocket, and (wait for it)… a sandwich sticking out of his pants pocket. Stylish, right?

Oh, and the soundtrack? A violin playing from his phone like he’s got a personal orchestra following him around.

He’s got an old white mustache, the kind that smells exactly like Dad’s did. A big panza that he wears proudly—no belt, no shame, just pure belly confidence. His ankles peek out like they’re enjoying the sun too. Black sunglasses complete the look. Basically: Latino James Bond… if James Bond loved sandwiches.

He sits there, eating, listening to music, totally zen. Meanwhile, I’m staring like, “Who IS this guy?!”

Earlier he was speaking Spanish with an old man in the store. Then he strolled over to me like always—like nothing in life is too heavy. Even HER overseas cancer feels lighter around him. She laughs, she planed, because that’s what normal people do. Laugh and plan.

The violin keeps playing. The sandwich gets smaller. My smile gets bigger.

I don’t know what an overture is—maybe this is one? Whatever, I’m just a tired girl trying to make sense of life. But seriously… who is this man? Hi hands are incredible elegant!

I MET these hands gestures BEFORE!

He doesn’t even bother with a belt. Just belly and vibes.

Sandwich with pesto, elegant, music, and class.

He looks so much like Dad it almost hurts, but in the sweetest way.

And then—plot twist—he gives his last bite of sandwich to a bird. “That’s all,” he says.

Like some old-school movie hero. I love this man!

Maybe he’s gay, maybe not. Who cares? He’s elegant, kind, funny, and normal. No dirty tricks, no politics, no games. Just an old man enjoying sunshine with a sandwich and a symphony. And me!

Hands folded over his big belly, shades on, violin still playing. The world needs more people like him.

Love you, old man. Never change.

Now tell me… what’s the name of that symphony?

Two Asian a man and a woman (Chinese) came up, and one of them took a picture of me in the background of their single-shot photo. My old man got upset—he tossed his napkin into the trash and walked away.

I don’t like these spy-like actions intruding into my real life.
Go to hell—and target them, not my real, genuine life!

Let my oldy live his life! And me too!!

What Love Is—and What It Definitely Is Not

🏚️ When My Mother Came to Visit…

It was 2004. My mother stepped into my home for the first time in years. What she saw wasn’t the life she imagined for her daughter.

A child clung to my leg. My husband lounged on the couch, glued to the TV. And I—once a happy, free-spirited girl—stood in silence, surrounded by the shadows of poverty and exhaustion.

Her heart broke.
Because she realized something painful: I had become her. An unhappy wife with a disrespectful husband and a love story that had turned into survival mode.


💔 The Moment the Truth Fell Out

My mother didn’t have to wait long for confirmation. From his own mouth, my husband said:

“I never loved your daughter.”

He said it casually, like he was talking about the weather.
And just like that, everything I had given up—my home, my job, my country—was dismissed with one cold sentence.


🧳 The Price of Blind Devotion

I had followed this man to a country that saw me as an outsider from day one.

A country that claimed to be the “pearl of socialism,” but functioned like a corrupt old machine—you needed to belong to a gang, a church, or a political group to have a chance.

As a nurse? I had no chance unless I played dirty. And I wouldn’t.


Even their RN licensing exams were sold to “insiders.”

I was never meant to belong.
And worst of all?
My own husband didn’t believe in me either.


😤 The Reality Behind “Love”

Years passed.
I worked thousands of night shifts to keep our family afloat. He watched movies. Played games. Saved his money. Used mine.

And then, the harsh lesson hit me:

LOVE DOESN’T EXIST.


At least not the kind people talk about in movies.

Because what they call “love” often looks more like a transaction:

  • A man wants sex, comfort, and service.
  • A woman wants connection, respect, and partnership.
  • One gives. The other takes.
    And the giving one burns out.

👏 Let’s Redefine Love

Let me be clear.

Love is not blind. It’s just poorly advertised.

So, here’s what I’ve learned:


❌ WHAT LOVE IS NOT:

  • It’s not screaming just to be heard.
  • It’s not one person doing the emotional, financial, and physical labor.
  • It’s not carrying someone’s mental illness while they ignore yours or worst triggering yours.
  • It’s not surviving with someone who keeps you small.
  • It’s not sacrificing yourself to keep someone else comfortable.

✅ WHAT LOVE ACTUALLY IS:

  • It’s mutual effort, not martyrdom.
  • It’s respect and communication, not gaslighting.
  • It’s shared responsibilities, not financial leeching.
  • It’s boundaries and emotional maturity, not control.
  • It’s support, not silence.

If you’re doing everything and getting nothing?
That’s not love. That’s emotional slavery.


💡 Final Thought: Trust Souls, Not Feelings

No more crazy. No more saviors in disguise.
No more countries or systems or relationships that chew up good people and spit them out.

I’ve made peace with the truth:
Love isn’t some dreamy fairytale—it’s a partnership.
And if the souls don’t match, the story will never work.


✨ Moral of the Story:

You are not unlovable.
You were just too powerful for the wrong love.
Don’t shrink for anyone.
And don’t confuse attention with affection.
You deserve better.

What happens with my VILLA? ;) LOL


DMV Diaries: Love, Lies & Expired Licenses

Stories keep you surviving — in society, in relationships, and in the craziness around us. Sometimes survival itself is easier than surviving them.

Never, ever get into a relationship without chemistry and love. It will not work. No matter how hard you try, it won’t work.

Doesn’t matter what plans you made in your mind, what your parents told you, or how much you once fell in love with that piece of shit.
It won’t matter.

A relationship that works needs chemistry, love, commitment, communication, and openness — for better or worse.

Otherwise, it’s not a relationship and never will be.

You have options: friends with benefits or a vibrator, lol. 🤷‍♀️

But this is not the story about that.

This story is from yesterday, written today, just to take my mind off a crazy family relationship.



He never loved me. Never respected me. Not him, not his family — only himself.

Today he chose to cough in my face, keep the windows closed, and spread his virus to me. And he succeeded.

Filthy and crazy. And I live like this because… I have no other options yet.

More hell than home.

But now — let’s dream a little.
(In a house full of crazy people and a partner even crazier.)



The story from yesterday… DMV hall.

They refused to change my driving license because I didn’t pay my auto insurances.
Socialism broke me. Broke as hell.

My car Maritza is old and broken too.

There are no jobs here for an “alien” American nurse like me — especially not a wild, outspoken one.

On social assistance, you can’t pay auto insurance.

But without a car, you can’t find a job either.
(Unless you want to become part of organized crime or a CIA/police asset — no thanks!



And then… the story.

She’s maybe 17 or 18. Blonde, curly hair, blue eyes.
A bud of a young girl, blooming this spring like a magnolia flower. 🌸
Boho T-shirt, jeans, boots, curls bouncing everywhere.
She talks fast, every “s” and “r” twisted by a heavy British accent.
She’s a doll. A happy, wild little doll.

Waiting for her boyfriend’s DMV documents.


And about him? Lol.
He’s somewhere between Middle Eastern and Indian.
Skinny, chocolate au lait skin, trying so hard to walk like Salman Khan.
(And doing a good job, judging by her starry eyes.)


He knows how to lead her crazy hippie heart.
Let’s call him Krishna.
Let’s call her Lorelai.
(Why not? It fits, lol.)


And me?
The old, pissed-off “granny” fighting DMV battles without a valid ID.
Already halfway to becoming illegal in the U.S. 😂

This country hates me, but whatever. I survive.

Looking around… 75% of people at DMV were batshit crazy, poor, abused, hopeless.

Hell, baby. No hope here.



Until… I saw them.


A sunshine ray in my tired, old eyes! ☀️

She, sweet and wild.
Her crazy mom calling her non-stop.
“WHERE ARE YOU? GIVE ME THE ADDRESS OF THE DMV!!” (screaming through the phone)


I laughed inside.
Poor mom. How many times did I lie to mine? 😂

We were young and wild too… so in love.

We just married the wrong ones. That’s all.


Will Lorelai follow her heart?

Granny decided to “spy” a little more… 👀 lol.



Mom keeps yelling.

Lorelai sweetly lies: “I don’t have the address!”


I loved her instantly — trying so hard to protect her little young freedom.


And I saw myself in her eyes.
Young. Wild. In love.


Him — young too — buying detergent for his mom. LOL

Me — sitting in a train, pretending to study the “Sleep and Dreams,” the single class I hated.
(That stupid class kept me away from becoming a doctor. One stupid class changed everything.)

You don’t know what you’ve lost until it’s gone forever.



Between the yelling and emotional blackmail… Krishna steps in.


Takes the phone, calms crazy mom down, assuring her Lorelai is safe.

(And I laughed watching it.)


Back in our day, no cell phones. No GPS. No tracking.
Love was free.

You could hold hands on a train between two cities — no one knew where you were, or what you were doing.

We lied better too, lol. 😂


Finally, crazy mom stopped.



And then… therapist mode activated.


I walked over.
Mother. Daughter. Granny.
All parts of me, speaking at once.


“Listen… all mothers are crazy,” I said, laughing.

Because it’s true.
We love our kids too much.
We are scared. Anxious.
We want to protect them from our mistakes and theirs.
We want them to live, to dream, to be safe.

To know the difference between good and bad before it’s too late.

Because if you don’t, you end up like us — trapped in miserable relationships, living miserable lives.



Lorelai laughed.
Because she knew I was right.


But she was so in love.
And her mom didn’t understand.

So I told her:


“You must start building BOUNDARIES.
Explain clearly what you want.
And if they don’t listen?
Learn to COMMUNICATE better, not lie.

Live FREE.
Find EMOTIONAL SUPPORT from those who truly care.
Not everyone gets that.
Some of us never had it.”



And I went back home.

Where a 25-year nightmare relationship coughed in my face.
Refused to clean his own piss off the floor and f/u with the doctor.
Refused to do laundry.
Refused to even open the window.

No willingness to communicate. No love. No chemistry. No family.

Some mistakes cannot be repaired.



So Lorelai and Krishna…

LIVE.
Be happy.
Protect each other.


And if one day you want a real family, know what it really means.
Otherwise — let it be a beautiful adventure, no harm!


Because at 18…
There’s no harm in just falling in love with life. ❤️

Tears in Hell

I cried. I cried through my childhood, my teenage years, and even during my marriage, surviving both emotional and physical abuse.

And then I became wild—wild so that no one would ever touch me again. Ever!

But no one taught me that people struggling with mental health issues could destroy you even worse than physical abuse.

Because women, like me, always try to fix someone. And that’s the trap!

No one can truly be fixed. No one can be taken care of .

Mental health struggles can’t be cured—they can be managed, controlled, and balanced, but never cured.

And if you try to fix them, you will lose the battle. Every. Single. Time.

So I cried again. From 2002 to 2007, I cried every single day—worse on Christmas than on any other day. Like today.

Because people with mental health issues are unable to realize what they’re doing.

To them, it’s normal. But their “normality” isn’t normal.

I read hundreds of books. I took hundreds of classes.

And still, I learned this hard truth: people with mental health struggles CAN use and manipulate others—because no one will tells them the truth about THEM own selves!

No one says: “You are mental sick, and if you’re not aware of it, your behavior will hurt and destroy normal people. Or worse—others who are already hurted because of someone like you.”

So I cried.

Until one day, I was saved and FREE in the USA.

But I wasn’t safe. I was still an easy target—still used and abused. Vulnerable people will always remain vulnerable until they become aware of their vulnerabilities.

But today, the cycle of my abuse ended!

No more tears. No more wild responses. No more being manipulated by narcissistic behaviors. No more ignorance of toxic dynamics like triangulation. No more tolerating obsessive or controlling behaviors.

Today, I stood up and spoke out.

This is the truth. This is THE normal—not madness, not chaos, not twisted behaviors.

Like it or not, everyone is free to embrace their own “madness”—but NOT with me. Not around me.

So today, I didn’t cry. I wasn’t wild. I simply said: NO.

No to manipulation. No to madness.

Normality, not Craziness!