Dear Brad,
I know we ended after a week of a reconnect. I bought up our history and you were evasive in your replies. I felt your energy, when you called. I don’t really like American men. They seem to be an angry breed. I’ve been raped countless times and treated like a ragdoll and it’s been American black and white men. I’ve met a you in my 20s, and knew you through our careers. I was doing singing telegrams and you were my driver. I introduced you to my agent that represents Sharon Stone. I told you not to use your name Bill, William or Billy, but Brad.
You claim not to remember faces. It could be due to your fame and everyone knowing your face and yours reflect with not knowing their face(s) and cursed with only recognizing yourself. It’s like you went through the mirror. I was once Marilyn and went through the camera. I saw myself 3D at the Rodeo Collection Mall in Beverly Hills, when I first returned from Seattle and suffering from amnesia. I didn’t realize I had amnesia, until I wrote my story in script from, “The Gates to Nirvana’s Pit” this May. Yes, Pit for Brad Pitt. It is a great insult to misspell a celebrity’s name and purposely written this way to give it to you historically in writing. I wrote, “I’m looking for someone my own age. I want to laugh and have deep conversations. I want to look into your eyes and see your birthmark.”
“I’m looking for a life partner that we can grow old together, someone with a good sense of humor and inner beauty like I am, someone that we would be like two vases of water poured into one in which we could be one, someone that will be one side of the coin and she will be the other side so we can compete each other,” Brad typed. He asked we go private and he we had a misunderstanding, so he called. After that, he said he had an orphanage and wanted donations. I follow him daily with google searches and remember a @Kelli.Christina has filed a lawsuit against Brad Pitt, but the judge dismissed the case as a catfishing scam and not the real actor.
So, I blocked you. I got a birthday card that I still intend on sending as a white flag. If, it was the real Brad that writes eloquently in his direct messages or someone pretending to be Brad. I believe it is Brad. I believe he contacted me first, because he knew me from our past. I believe he was sincere, but I don’t think American men have the proper perspective of women. It seems that Marilyn Monroe was a sex object both in life and in the “Blonde” movie.
I went to see Jason Priestley in 2014 and pieced you back into my life being this is how I met you. Jason asked me to have our roommates come on our date together. Jason was eighteen and I prefer older men, so I took Brad home and gave him the wrong phone number. My bad. So, I believe I recreated a stacker. When two people go for a long romantic walk, but only one of them knows about it. I know about it from media posts that act as communication, between you and I.
Thinking of you this Saturday morning,
CP
xx