I just text snd text and text so much writing so little time – I feel as if I may die tomorrow. I am hoping against hope somehow I may be the greatest love of all, but I am not. I am the most hopeless kind of love, disclosing all my most intimate feelings that hurt him, only because of a brief disillusion and a feeling he is not honest, my thoughts (are/are not) real – so the inspiration I had about the Bible is simply a gag gift. You’re muffcabbage!!! Crazy delusional. I don’t understand what you said. I still want to pass along ideas that give me faith but I get no benefits from my faith I see other peoples blessings but can’t see my own.
I know that was scrambled – here’s pics of my vision from last night.
Anyways- yeah that was crazy talk because if I explain the properties of light, of spirit in godly terms and apply them to technology- the ghost in the shell” and the measurements god required – to be both a heavenly spirit and a material humanoid, I don’t have the patience to draw it out. I was explaining that light can appear two different ways, wave or particle and it’s properties can’t be weighed in mass. Dumb dumb- why do I have to talk ever? Why can’t I find a hobby through all this apathy. Copacetic and pathetic. My crazy talk was way better last night as I was thinking about mass and weight of physical shell, containing that which produces light while increasing weight none at all.
It still has a limited capacity – it is not a vehicle of the soul however the soul can be compared to plasma or light in its properties and is swifter than light, present at all times in all places. I went on to picture a planet that took the game of overcoming so far they had no life snd is haunted – an astral plane where souls may wander living in a constant state of tragedy.
Communication is not excellent. I picture he knows greater loves that don’t aggravate him. I have not. We’ve had to fix me up so much, tear me down. The voices are gone, now I just know imagination and a strong desire to write. I have 0 followers, I have no audience, I’m a clown and fool to those who love me, but have grand image of myself. I’m healed but god help me, he continues to point out I’m not normal- that my writing is an “episode” I’m a whacko that quits smoking 6 times a year and smokes and snorts mind enhancing peptides while shooting myself with oxytocin like a love fool because I’m so empty and deep and longing for someone to understand what I am saying (like butters) and give me compassion for the tragic past abd inspiration for life and adventure together in the future, which he refuses to think about. It’s like I’m riding the dragon into the “nothing” and seeing the world and my dreams (as impractical as they may be) impossible. It’s a cold cold cold place where u can’t trust a thing because he speaks entirely in double entendres if you think about it. You benefit from running from him and you benefit from listening, but never any praise. Joyless hobby chasing men. I’ll do it till I die- just this one and never catch. Never catch the man. I guess he’s like them all- every damn single one has a greater love with someone else. I feel so sorry for myself. Nobody knows the intensity of the pain except god and a lost witness of what horror I experienced and image in my mind that was so intensely flaming hot on the inside forefront of my skull and my heads all empty and I don’t care.
I have to remain humble and modest, god reminds me that “I am the least” of us and I don’t love myself as I should because of a dark past I had no power over- watching spirits swirling, entering me, feeling thier painful energies and vibrations, the observer never realizing what a meat sack feels like because there was nobody around except one night stands I would have had a relationship with but their energies were so powerful it looks like I didn’t give a fuck and ran ran ran away in fear of the things the spirits could do while the interaction was occasionally jovial, sympathetic or brute snd harsh, still responsible for the men who tread on me.
The memories? Lost in general- I used to recall only two people in my mind- Chris and his ex all day long, shrieking in my cranium, watching me in the bathroom- while informing me in great fear by visions of astral orgies in my head. Yeah I know the enemy. I only hope my wrath serves me well. in my mind I went back a hundred thousand times because of an obsession that lasted 20 years, meanwhile the material works all the same name, faces all around me, the same look, except with girlfriends with gifts I never had. Just staring in the mirror all day long, hearing wrath echoing back at me to make me suffer yet never cry, never speak, never call the cops on people who damaged me that I was in the hospital with symptoms they couldn’t find a cause for? And symptoms they could? Painful but not harmful is key – I don’t dare harm my beautiful sexy self, and have some new makeup that makes me jump for joy, just no circle of sugar daddies to share this slim stick figures glory and greatness with, no lonely lonely people who will turn treacherous and want me to look in the mirror again at the new redhead I have become. Attack
I don’t make friends at chili’s while I drink my five dollar margarita alone
I want different friends
Our little black kitty has been a menace to me no matter how I dye my hair black to match his he never crawls on my lap and sleeps with me and cringes when I touch him, my apologies to him for previous owner. he followed us home snd sat outside for 2 weeks before we brought him in. He’s gazing with a whiskery sad old man face purposely not my direction. He sometimes engages in gazing and occasionally meeting and locking eyes with kitty love and other times he acts like a douche, never trusting me as much as his other partner. I also change how I feel about him based on how he’s acting, find suspicious
Things in everyone – we are constantly asking each other if we are cheating. What’s the name of the game? Bluffing? Cards. Anyways – he won’t own up to anything,
We go literally nowhere and do literally nothing. Every opportunity for romance is mommy time. I tune in- he turns to her, I tune out. I was called to conversation I crave and polite banter about groceries but only recently does anyone care about food preferences because I’m down to 120 lbs and don’t care to eat. Ever. Until I die. I feel like satans bitch jumps on my chest and stomps me every time I try to get out of bed. I fall down no one cares – bought walker because I get panic attack so bad I can’t fucking stand abd the world goes black and spinning and I can’t breathe. I guess it’s because I want comfort I can’t get, sometimes can’t get to bottle of Xanax before I start wondering why. My mother and her staring at me pathetic in bed while I stare at hallucinations of demons in my closet, waking me up screaming attack with cold wash rag on my face. Always barging in with her underwear because I didn’t have a lock. Screaming and going through my trash looking for sex toys I shouldn’t be using. Fuck her. Yeah I hear her voice come out of my mouth while my boyfriend is with me and my dad trying to fuck me- I almost punched my boyfriend. I promise you they are good and evil. No hatred matches that of my hatred – I’ll stop no reason to get angry.
I swore I would play PlayStation. My mother = myself they say, the books say? Her name the name my boyfriend ran off with that redhead Jackie.
It means supplanter but you can be nobody cause of your poor quality pictures and you can’t be me. The nature of the birdhouse in my soul which made me insane is the fucking shit mirror I see myself in and I wish myself the best! Of everything.
The nature of trash. Belial the worthless one has infiltrated aa and I have a college degree. Going back soon to college and will finish these boring classes before ucf.
Anyways fun for all.