A Zombie Like Me

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A Zombie Like Me

by

Christopher Thomas

Read Time: 2 hours 15 Minutes

Chapter One

The End of The Beginning

After having written the conclusion, I start at the beginning. With a broken heart now but that is forty-three years in the future. Sitting here now, not knowing how it ends, breaks my heart.

I had so much potential. So much passion and drive. I’m what my family called a type A personality. They didn’t know the half of it. They never understood my passion or my drive with all it’s intensity intact.

They never felt that way unless they were enraged or angry about something, but to feel that alive while just living life, no they never understood that kind of intensity. To this day I still do not understand why?

I always had a knack for getting into trouble. I think my pa used to call me little master mischievous. Always getting into stuff I shouldn’t be. It was usually for the right reasons but seldom understood why. Now I feel that somehow I’m going to pay a heavy price for my quest of understanding.

I always felt more living force in my life than just existing for existence sake. As if there is some higher purpose or calling that I seek in a world that can not understand the depth of the ocean or the peak of the mountain. Much less the depth of my mind and what I could think and believe.

There are other places. Great places. In ways we would never understand being mortal humans. You have to learn to think outside the box to understand what I’m talking about. It’s taken me forty-three years to reach this point, it feels neither like a mountain top or depth of the ocean. Maybe a little closer to the grave and being six feet under.

My story should have been a happy one. And in honesty, the first twenty years were all pretty good. I grew up in a mostly happy home. There were good times like the days we traveled together and arrived. There were also times that were frightening and terrifying.

I remember the day I became a person. It was on my fourth birthday that my parents spoke to me about being more and what they expected of me as being upon turning four. Somehow the way they sat in their chairs with me there looking up at them, I still remember their hollow disappointment at my life. As if I wasn’t good enough and had to be told to do better at the age of four. Like I wasn’t meeting their expectations for how I should be living.

Maybe that is the trend that has continued for all these years. One disappointment after another all the way down my life. The day I became aware though was kind of a good day. Because I remember the ability to clearly think or at least understand that I was being addressed and that my existence in this world was more stable than a bad dream.

Somehow I became aware that my couscous mind was able to see, hear, and feel everything around me and that I had parents that seemed to reasonably care for me. Sure there were times there were fights in the family, always between my parents for some reasons I could never understand. If I had the desire I could probably remember everything that has ever happened since that day save but two or three days in my whole life.

The first ten years were the roughest for me. The first five years were adapting to the new oxygen based world and trying to be aware enough that I was both alive and and trying to drive the body I lived in. There were days I believed I couldn’t drive and it was a ride. Something I would not forget. I learned to adapt. I had no choice.

Things were simpler back then. For instance where we lived seemed like it was fine and wasn’t that bad. But I had nothing to compare it to back then. It all seemed like it was okay. I remember people saying how shoddy the housing was, but it seemed okay at the time. I didn’t know better.

From there I remember another house and a dog. There were plenty of days spent up on the hill behind the house and the day the tortoise turned up and my parents wouldn’t let me keep it. I heard kids blowing up firecrackers after that and remember thinking that they were torturing the turtle for being alive.

There were bad days at school. Then there were worse days at school. We had a swing set, and kids would come over and play on the swing set and it would always tip over. Dad had a boat and there were some days out on the lake that weren’t too bad.

Days at school were almost always bad. Of the things I remember are that there were a lot of kids that liked to laugh at me for any reason they could. Because I was different or made to feel different. I always seemed out of place somehow. Then there is the day that everyone was instructed to skip. I couldn’t do any of those things, no one had shown me how to skip. I was told I was below average and how could I not know how to do those things?

Then some big fat kid used trickery and deceit and made a bet with me, if I won he would give me something, if I lost he would get to sit on my head. I won, but I couldn’t win because the boy had used such tactics as to make me let him sit on my head. I remember my ears ringing for hours and the pressure I felt from the kid sitting on my head and his big fat butt hurting my head and the side of my face being pushed into the dirt. This kid that wouldn’t get off my head with his big fat body. I don’t remember his name and phone number, But I would like to find out where he lives now. I haven’t forgotten.

Kids were always being mean to me. They tease and make threats. One day I was threatened and had to defend myself, well what really happened was the kid hit me in the nose and bloodied my face, and when I didn’t cry he threatened to hit me again if I didn’t cry. Shit, I bawled the whole way home. But he is the toughest meanest kid in the whole town and nobody was going to tell him not to be a bully.

Looking back on it now, it’s good it happened that way. It did make me tougher. But it also taught me a lesson, sometimes people just want to knock your socks off and they feel all better about afterwords, even if it leaves the other person with feelings of having been humiliated.

There were other days and other fights, they come and go. Kids having fun with rocks and trash can lids for shields. But it was all for sport. The kinds of games we played wasn’t safe, but they taught us to be tougher.

I remember mom was always complaining about the caccua burrows, which are sharp round seeds that grew on the plants all round the area, they were always getting stuck to my clothes or my socks and she would have to pull them off. It always seemed to make her mad. I didn’t care or notice them, it was always just fun and games walking around the great outdoors and going places and seeing things. Like the frogs in the stream and the trees that seemed ancient with their thorns that grew on the sides of their trunks by the stream.

Then there was the day the kid got in a fight with me in class. He gave me a big push in front of the teachers desk and knocked me back and down. Busted my head wide open on the teachers desk. But I got up mad as hell and wanted to fight him, but the kids all got scared because of the blood going everywhere coming from my head.

I remember the first time someone had died. I think her name was Kate, she and her parents died out on a lake in a boat that was going too fast on the rough water. Everyone was sad, but I tried to make it seem like it wasn’t real. There was two girls named Kate in the class and one of them was still alive. I said, “She’s still alive, she’s right there.” I was only half aware that the girl was really gone. But was she really dead?

Time passed. Things at home were tough. Mom and dad fought a lot. They were always getting on each others nerves about something like bubble gum in the carpet my sister had spit out, and the use of gojo to remove it.

Then came the day there was a lesson. Bad lesson. Maybe a good lesson but a bad memory. We were at the store, and as most kids always see there was candy on the isle before the checkout. I asked for candy and was told no. Hmm... Somehow that didn’t satisfy my needs and so I took two jolly rancher hard candies and put them in my pocket when no one was looking.

About ten minutes later we were in the car driving to some other town and my parents noticed the smell of candy in my mouth. So I lied. That is when trouble found me. We returned to the store and I was forced to apologize and pay for the candy. But that would have been fine, the only problem was that I had lied which was incurring the wrath of god from my dad.

So I was told to wait in my room while he went and used all his wood working tools to build a paddle from wood to spank my ass with. It was the scariest feeling I had ever known, also the most painful I had ever known. I’m not likely to ever forget either of those two events. I was maybe all of five years old.

Then came the piano, the school said I was below average and not good enough. They tried using music to teach me how to think, but the instructor was a cruel witch and was more into punishing me than she was about teaching me music. It was cruel.

A lot happened. Life I guess. Most of the time was good, even though I wasn’t totally aware of the results of my actions would be and that they were always wrong.

I felt like I would have to learn how to be a person, because they thought I was some kind of child that was from some other world. Maybe not one of them. But forced to live with them. Because like they are family. So your taught things like always obey your parents and do everything they say. Or they spank you with wood paddles. Thinking about it now, I believe my parents ruled through using fear, and punishments to control us.

Things changed and we moved. To a place that didn’t even have paved roads, seemed there was a poor part of town, but there were kids to launch model rockets with and people that had cool pants. And a bike to ride which always got me in more trouble when I went somewhere without telling anyone where I was going.

From the fear my mom had you would think she was afraid that my real parents were going to find me and take me back to live with them. It was always so stressful that she had to know where I was every moment of the day. I never thought any different really, I didn’t believe I had been taken from my parents.

There was legos and erector sets to play with. Legos were by far one of my favorites. Sister got on my nerves most the time and we had settled that we weren’t going to be friends until we both had learned to be nice.

We moved again. This was a place that had paved roads, but was so small and fenced in that you couldn’t go anywhere. They said the fence was to keep out animals in the area and people that didn’t belong there.

There were some other kids that I could ride bikes with and learn to skate board and have fun. I always somehow got the feeling they didn’t like me and didn’t want me around. I spent a lot of days on my bike alone trying to do tricks that I saw other bigger people doing stunts with. I thought, that looks like fun, I will learn to ride like that.

And in some ways I did learn how to do all that I tried to learn. There was just one trick that I could never land. I remember it was four years later I was still trying to land that one trick. Despite all the frustration and failure and pain, I still tried to land it every time I could try it. Eventually I would learn it, but it was several years later down the road for me.

We moved again. Somewhere new in the city that was a big scary place and mom was always scared and we wasn’t allowed to be anywhere that we weren’t holding her hand. It was a dangerous place the city. I was allowed to play outside sometimes and ride my bike, something by that time that I lived to do. It was all I was about back them. I was told that if I spent as much time reading the bible as riding my bike I would be an elder soon.

I wasn’t allowed to say awesome. Only god is awesome and using it to describe anything else was always met with stern discipline. Just any idea was always met with criticism.

I was home schooled for years; from third grade to seventh grade I was home schooled. And when they tried to decide what grade to put me in, they dropped me back with people younger than myself. By a year. I was below average in my studies and my development. I didn’t really learn to do well in school until much later. What I do remember was art class. That was good and woodworking. Other than that school sucked. Kids were always being mean to me.

I remember one day they had grabbed me by both legs and rammed a pole into my crotch trying to break my balls. I don’t remember their names or phone numbers. Where are those assholes now?

Chapter Two

Explanation Points

There are plenty of things that I have left out. Some because I love them and some because I Haven’t reached that point in the story. One of those things, it’s funny how your remember discipline. There was one time when we were out gathering something like firewood with grandpa and dad. We were outside and there was a bee that stung me. It hurt like hell, I think I was all of nine or ten. When the bee stung me I cried out, “Oh shit.

The wrath of dad, cussing was all against the rules and in front of grandpa what would he think of our christian house if I said that? Smack, wap, pow. That hurt more than the bee sting, but the discipline seemed just as I was always in the wrong and my dad had authority to hurt me like that because christian morals had to be upheld. Yeah hitting your kids in front of their grandparents was allowed but saying “Shit” Isn’t.

I remember the other time I said shit. Dad raised his fist in anger like he was going to hit me in the face for it. That is when I stood up to him, I said, “Go ahead, hit me. I will leave here and never come back ever.” I was less than thirteen.

Looking back on it now, I think my parents had rage issues that they hadn’t dealt with. Maybe they just wasn’t ready to be parents or something. It just seemed for all their christian values, they sure had a lot of problems. But you know that’s all my fault being from some other world or something. It’s tough to fit in with the locals.

There were good days, there were bad days. My christian values I wasn’t allowed to be friends with girls. Some of them back then even liked me. I grew up thinking all that was sin and lust.

I graduated high school, below average as a student. Mostly c and d student, you know. Had to take remedial math twice, because I failed it the first time. Life was.

To back up a bit, by the time I had gotten my drivers license my sister was my best friend. Only because I had a car and she could go with me everywhere to both keep an eye on me and it was more fun than being at home with mom and dad. Tattle tale.

By the time five years had passed my sister had her drivers license and we we’re not friends anymore. It’s been a loosing battle ever since.

Despite the way things were, and the discipline; I still felt loved and cared for. Like we were loved and wanted. I had some freedom, few problems and life. I was full of it. Everything was new and fresh and didn’t smell of decay or wretchedness.

I never understood why I didn’t have girlfriends. I tried. They always broke up with me after a few days. There were things that I did to stay alive and to survive, but I was always alone.

By the time after I had graduated high school, I went right into working. I used to be a press operator in the printing business. I had learned how to run them and was decent enough at my job. Six months here, a year there. Went through a few places to have worked. It was good, no real benefits, but ten bucks an hour was pretty good for a nineteen year old guy with below average schooling.

I aways dreamed that it would somehow work out. And for a few brief years it kind of did. I always had very few friends in my life, there were some from the church, but some of them would only hurt me. When I got older I started to drift away from the church and seek my own understanding. Maybe I was seduced by the dark side and pulled under the waves of the devils ways. Or was I?

I moved out on my own, nice place by the beach. Small place with no one in town that I knew or had ever known. All my other friends were mostly gone by now. No one to come see me, except the two or three visits mom and dad made to see me. I spend the first year in the bar drinking. It was useless. I would go out every night and get three or four beers and taxi home. Wake up go to work and always back at the bar for more. Never took anyone home with me, it was always a solitary ride back home.

Depression hit. Doctors wanted to drug me for being depressed, but maybe it was the effects of drinking every night and the booze and late nights. I struggled, it was tough. There were very few that knew me. I had one week that was pretty good when I felt like I had a girlfriend. It lasted a week and then I was back in the pits of despair.

Finally I realized the lifestyle was going to kill me. I had to get my shit together. If I was going to be anything in life, it was then or never. So I spent my time at the office, studied my ass off and worked everyday from the time I got to work to well past midnight hours every day of the week. I learned, I studied, and I grew. Still didn’t have any friends. But I was alive.

I was unwanted, unloved, and couldn’t make a friend if I wanted to. Totally unprepared for life in the world or life on my own, I had failed more times than the beginner had ever tried. I changed jobs after a nasty incident at a party where things I may never be able to remember happened to me, I almost died. People hated me.

New job, things were better, but still tough. I moved from the beach to a town near work. I was mostly happy. Alone and disregarded but mostly happy. Things wasn’t working out, in real life, but when does it?

Then a new job, same apartment. Then a girlfriend. But it was short lived. All of six months. Break up. Then bam, wham, pow. I was hurt, something had happened. It’s still unknown what caused the change, or what hit me; what ever it was it began the worst years of my entire life to ever be lived.

From about this point to twenty years forward, the worst years of my life. I’m still alive, but almost dead. No one cares. I were to die tonight, no one would notice that I was gone except for mom. I don’t have anyone else in my life. Been alone most all the time. I had one girlfriend about a year ago. It lasted about six months and then I was back to being broken. So what’s the point of this story?

That will take more explanation.

Life, the universe, the whole thing. It has ways of making you or breaking you. Sometimes life makes you by breaking you. Only to build you up again. Strength sometimes comes from the difficulties we have endured.

My life should be a strong one. Many lessons. Some never to be repeated. For sure. The only person that gives a damn is myself. No one else can care for me, I would like people and family to try; it might make me feel better. No one else will. I have spent years in depressions, madness, even despair. I have searched for the meaning of life, for reasons to stay strong or to endure this much pain and suffering. A reasonable person would have given up by now. An average person would have given up a long time ago.

However reasonable I may be, I am not average. Do not mistake my life for a mistake. Lessons can be powerful things. Sometimes you learn them the hard way. There are issues like the need to make life better for everyone. But to do that, they would have to make my life better. It’s not going to happen this time.

I have hoped and prayed for a day when this life was going to be right and kind. Seems going forward will only be more difficulties than a man would know what to do with. I am not an average person. So continue forward, because we can not go back to where we came from. It’s like that day my dad raised his fist at me in rage. Had I left then, what would my life been like?

What would have become of my family and those I know? Would they have lived as well without me? Maybe we shouldn’t ask those kinds of questions, but to understand life; there is only one way to understand it. That is by looking backwards at the life we have had and seeing where the points in time are that connect the dots.

I feel hated in life. Maybe it’s because the world hates me. Maybe if I had been something I’m not, they would have loved me more. Perhaps. I have endured more than they could have, regardless of what church they attend.

In times like these, there is hope. Not all is lost. And even though sitting here now, there are many things that I don’t understand and still know nothing about; I can say, “Yes. Life exists and is more wonderful than we could ever know.

If people were to think about the ideas I have had while living this life and consider them as all possible things, to know which ones make good and what is to be avoided. Learn from my mistakes.

Then my life will not have been in vain. Regardless of what you hear, there are many things that are false. People can be mean, and cruel. It’s sad. Sometimes I think people get their kicks from being mean. I know I don’t get my kicks that way, my pain only drives me to take action and to make life better for everyone, despite the way I feel.

I do believe in making life better for everyone. I realize that many times these people are hurting, and that they are but simple people with simple minds that do not understand everything. They also have no desire to understand everything, they only want their peace of mind. It seems it’s easier for them to have their peace of mind with the tv set turned on and their minds in neutral.

I have come to love music. Despite the life I have had. There are only so many things that will turn you on. But music is a good choice to make. As far as being mean, I don’t believe that being mean is any kind of way to get your kicks. It only serves purpose to make the world cruel and mean.

I would like to see the world get to be a better place for everyone. Life is this way, but it could be a lot better. If you have to courage to see the possibilities and despite the hardship to serve your fellow man out of love and kindness, you will go a lot farther in life.

I often think of life. What we could have in the future and when the project will be done. I’m not sure how i’m going to get my message out there to be known, but I know that they will eventually have to listen to me.

I have studied my life. My mind, and searched the past for wisdom long forgotten. I try to be kind in what I do, even though many times these people frustrate and make me mad. I may have said many hurtful things in my writing. Please be aware it was not always meant to be hurtful.

It’s more of my way of riding out the pain and the rage that I feel for being treated like that. Kindness is when you want to smash someones face and you don’t. That is not love. The world has to get back to being a kinder place where people don’t want to hurt each other.

There is a project that when complete will make everyone’s life better in the long run. The real problem is that we will have to wait for it to complete. In the mean time please do all you can to make life better for other people. Don’t be afraid to make life better for yourself by taking action. If you delay too long there will never be a right time to take action.

Be aware, have some care. Life can be made better for everyone. But you have to be willing to put the time and effort into the events that unfold. You have to be willing to learn from your mistakes and make the best of it.

Life is more than we can dream possible. Small minds fail to understand this. And some minds are only interested in what makes a profit and a quick buck. My interests are more refined than that and have long term goals and points to be reached.

I have found that with the lack of support that the future will be different, my success would have been their success. What we need to do is start over in the future with a clean slate and the wealth of wisdom that can be taken from what we know now.

There is something I am waiting for, something that will happen in this world. In life. It’s big. This change we are waiting for is the one that will make everything better. I have been unhappy and hurt a long time. More than I would like. A good change for the better would always be welcome to everyone.

Life has to balance sometimes. It’s better to stay in the middle and have very small high’s and low’s than to ride high and low and have huge changes that are hard to adapt to. You can even ride low below the middle, while still having ups and downs. The point is to make nothing that is permeant, and to make nothing bigger than what an average person can ride out. Eventually the universe will understand what makes life great and give us what we all want in ways that works for everyone. It’s by design, not chance that this will happen.

Keep the faith, believe in possibilities. Not all things are probable, but anything could be possible. Prepare to have your mind blown away by what we can have when it gets here, it’s better than you would ever believe. Learn to be kind.

Anyways. More later. I have a lot of memories. More bad memories than good ones. I’m not sure how I feel about that. At this point in my life, I wish that I had something more to look at in my past and think, I was valued and people remember me well.

It feels like I have been living like a ghost in this world. The last twenty years, all painful. Seems it’s been work without a day off or a vacation.

I wonder about my life. How other people see me. Or what they think about me. I wonder how my mom thinks of me. I wonder what she will think when she lives my life to this point and see’s me as I see myself like I see her.

I wish I had people in my life that remember me. More than anything though is the point of being successful, not so much in business as being successful in completing my mission in life. To have made everything good possible and to have won this war without leaving behind a body count that numbers the grains of sand in the sea.

Maybe this war can be won without making a mortal enemy. It takes a lot of time, skill, patience, and endurance. I always wanted to be loved. Even when my actions where not nice, I still wanted to be loved. I don’t know what made my family here stop loving me. Maybe i’m broken, or maybe we are all kind of broken. The point is to get better. The universe is a big place. Everyone could have something good and right and true and better.

Maybe people don’t have to believe it can get better, but they will have to learn to be kind. You never know when you last day alive will be, so tell people that you love them while there is time. You never know when you won’t see someone again. This world is a strange place, and until the project is finished, there is nothing that really can be certain.

However the project is for everyone. Everyone has to get something good and all be together. We all want something good. We all want life to be right. We all want life to be better. Some people are happy like this, but they don’t take into consideration other people’s misery. And maybe there is a certain amount of balance in life from the way things are, but there is nothing that says everyone has to have bad.

When it comes to the kind of home we want, we will not settle for second best. Life is meant to be lived. What they have done here is tragic. It’s worse than tragic, it’s a crime and a sin.

People’s ways here are not kind. It’s caused me more pain that I would like to have endured. That’s for sure. I wish that I could make amends with family. There is this issue with my sister hating my guts. She said I was the bad guy and it’s been down hill ever since then. I remember the day she said it.

I never saw myself as a bad guy. Then what villain does? People are made to feel certain ways and maybe it’s by design. Maybe they have been programmed to get responses for certain effects. I don’t like playing and tell those damn rats to piss off on someone else’s galaxy.

I wish that we could have something good. Something that everyone can be a part of. And maybe we will. Everyone is good at different things, even momz. But these people have allowed pain to defeat them. They have allowed small things to get in the way of being effective. It’s kind of sad. I have tried to inspire them in life. To show them more is possible.

Maybe when we see the starman again things will all be better. Life will change, it always does. That is one of the only things we can really be certain of. Life changes. We have to be able to adapt with it. We have to be able to change with it and not leave behind what is good and right and true. While still staying positive and current. Some people never learn.

I don’t like Pepsi. That’s bad stuff. All drugs might be bad. Even the ones that the doctors try to give you. This world is built on people being greedy and ruthless. Trust no one until you know what’s in their hearts and minds. There are ways to tell the difference between us and them.

Two horses can both run, it’s been long known that one may be faster than the other. But which one? Differences are crucial. That’s to quote Robert Heinlein. I wish I could wake up in a better world than this. I wish I could wake up in a better life. Maybe it’s a bad dream.

I’m sorry to those of you that are unhappy with me. I only wanted to be loved. Please forgive for those things that you didn’t like. But remember that I tried to be kind under the conditions that I was under. It may not have been acceptable to you, but I assure you it wasn’t acceptable to me either. I would have had this a lot better personally. It should have never been this bad. Not ever.

Chapter Three

How It Started

After twenty years of writing in my journals, I find myself in a difficult situation. I am both faced with the difficulty of still trying to say what I meant to say all along. And the sheer volume of words written in the process of trying to find not only my own understanding but that of the mind of God.

I could and have thought many times about how to summarize my thoughts in the hay stacks I have been building all along. The need to both sort everything by date and by chronological order. Perhaps if I begin to explain you will understand.

My journey has been a solitary one. One of being both isolated and desperate. Mostly just desperate in a world that has not been kind in far too long. They say isolation is a blessing, but when isolation feels like it’s being used as a weapon against you, then you seriously start to think about the value of life. When the pain comes rolling in for another long night and knowing that the results are always the same; waking up alone.

The isolation in my life has caused me to doubt not only life, but the whole universe and everything anyone has ever said, or thought. Sometimes my only method of dealing with another moment is to imagine that this dream is something I will wake up from and find myself safe at my desk in front of an open book that was simply too boring to read.

This might have been more interesting, but far more painful than having read the book. I think that is one of the things that bothers me the most is the pain. Fourteen years ago, it was emotional pain. It was emotional pain so intense that if the wounds would have been physical flesh wounds I would have died from the severity of the wounds. But thankfully they were just emotional wounds that would grow scar tissue and make me mean, hard, and a cold blooded.

I found I had to get tough. The emotional pain was great. Every night I begged for death and found myself waking up the next morning in just as much pain. I thought it would get better. Now in the eighteenth year of these conditions the emotional part of my life is so hard that depression would be a recreation for me. Because now the effects of not being able to take care of myself have left me physically wounded beyond repair. Most of my teeth are ruined and some of them are even knocked out and broken half way at the gum lines.

If that wasn’t enough pain for you, the other physical pains I have are far greater. There are many times in a week it feels like someone shoved a red hot lead pipe up my ass and left it there after every time I take a crap. The pain great enough that a normal person would die. What they don’t know is that blood has been coming out of my ass for the last thirteen years and there is nothing that will make it better.

But seriously lets get to the point of my journals. I will try to explain the pain of what it’s been like without using language that is far too graphic.

My journals started as an experiment to better understand myself and to leave a record of what I was thinking or wanted to remember later, or just wanted to say. I have always felt a certain amount of isolation and loneliness and have never really been able to fully make it feel better.

So while the isolation of my loneliness has been a factor in my journals that I have written about the last eighteen years, there are other things which have occurred or happened that have been less than pleasant and have both hurt and saddened me.

When a person is under their own control and in stable condition there are certain things that are expected of them. To be kind, or to understand, or try to understand. We expect that they will not try to sow angers seed in our breast every chance they get because they enjoy being mean. But what about people that are out of control or have more than they can handle? How is someone that is pushed beyond the physical, mental, and emotional limits of what a person could endure?

In the midst of all of those things and the pressures of enduring more emotionally, mentally, and physically there is the need to be successful in my efforts, so I have pushed forward everyday with the hope that I would have developed skill and talent from hard won victories that would have left a normal person dead twenty years ago.

I have thought that no human with free will could live my life. If the only thing that they could change was when they commit suicide everyone would be dead by now. Most people would never make it this far, the pain, the blood, and the suffering are just too great for a mortal to endure.

My journals was one of the only things that I could do when I was hurting like this, on good days when I could I would take photographs, and try drawing or learning to program the computer. Throughout the years the combination of skills have developed my personality to something that may be tolerable but still a soul in suffering and feeling tortured.

My photography was my love and passion. Writing was a method to cope with emotional pain that was so overwhelming that controlling the rage and hate were difficult to contain upon the screen in digital ink.

To my surprise none of my family ever understood that the pain was so great that I was begging for death. Even after I tried to commit suicide, my mom said to me, “Well this hurts me a lot.” With no regard for the suffering and pain I was in and desperately wanted to make better.

Then there was the psychiatry community and their snake oil pills that either made me worse, or simply made life so that I didn’t kill anyone while I silently suffered in what could only be described as hell.

I was told I could not think my way out of it, and there was nothing I could do to ever make my situation better and that I would always be just the same with no improvement for the rest of my life. With no friends, and no support group, and family that hated my guts for being angry about my own suffering I was stuck in my room with nothing I could change and no hope of ever having anything better. Now eighteen years later, I’m better and worse. Mentally and emotionally I’m so fucking hard that they couldn’t kill me with a bomb, but physically so weak that I could die in my sleep.

I wrote about the problems I faced on a daily basis. The feelings I was having. The struggle and the pain in my way. I tried to talk about those things, with no successful way to communicate my needs. I would tell my mom, “I need some friends, and a girlfriend.” She would get angry at me and say there was nothing she could do for me and I would have to suffer like I was.

Eventually I stopped talking with her about anything but the frustration that could not be contained within my body. She does all the talking now, and I think she does it to control the situation because she hates my voice or something. I feel hated, but not hated enough for them to kill me. Just enough for them to treat me with contempt, neglect, and indifference.

I have said for years my teeth needed fixed, I have tried looking for work, written a few books and tried selling them online and in print. I have also tried unsuccessfully to sell my photographs at a reasonable margin and to raise enough funds to get my teeth fixed and have my bills paid.

Each time, I have met failure. Each time I have been told the same things. It’s like they congratulate me on having a book published but that is the final success to them. They don’t give a fuck if I ever sell a copy of my book. It’s like the effort to just create the book was so great that that in itself is more than they could have ever done under the same conditions, but they don’t really care about me. If they did, they would have read them. You know?

They don’t talk about what I write, as a matter of a fact I was told recently that my writing is just text on a screen and that I’m wasting my time spending time on the net or using a computer. That my work is worthless because no one is ever going to read it. Because they can not read it? Or because they refuse to acknowledge that I may be right? I suspect the latter and believe they refuse to read what I write only out of spite that they feel i’m worthless and they would rather I was dead than to think of anything I have ever thought or written.

These are the short condensed version of what I have been writing about for eighteen years in my journals. The total neglect for my worthless suffering that goes unchecked and of no value to anyone except perhaps to force my hand in never living ever again. I think that is what they really want.

They don’t care about the fact that I have tried to do good even in a great deal of pain and suffering and that I have so far to date not killed anyone out of rage or anger even in times that people might have had it coming.

So I have to ask what kinds of seeds I have sown in their hearts and minds. They obviously don’t respect me for who I am despite the fact that they refuse to read what I write and refuse to let me talk about my experience and what I have learned in the process.

Recently after an experience with my mom, I found that they are but children and that they will never understand the experience I have had. They will never know or be able to comprehend that experience unless they actually live my life.

So much for trying to be understood. You never tell a writer that they are wasting their time and that all their work is worthless text on a screen that no one will ever read.

Be careful what seeds you sow in the hearts of men and women in this world. Your ideas matter and will effect other people. When some one is hurting and still trying to reach out for being a reasonable being of value in this world, your every insult and seed of anger sown is only growing hate. Hate doesn’t drive out hate, only love can do that.

Chapter Four

No Solutions

When you’re broke, there is only one thing to do. Heal. It may take me several thousand years to come to terms from what has been done to me. I have been told a lot of things. Unless you know me first hand, then you can disregard things people say about me. It’s useless to condemn what you don’t know, and deadly to condemn what you refuse to understand.

At the end of the day I believe in good things. Along the way I have asked for good in my life. To have people that like me to grow and learn from along the way. That has been denied me. I have had to grow and learn in solitary confinement.

I have wished to express a concern of mine. It seems that this world is a prison. It feels oppressive, and repressive to growth. So it would be natural to feel held in bondage in a world that doesn’t want me. There is however another idea I wish to express. This is that chiefly mental illness is a death sentence to be swiftly carried out.

I will say that creativity is not a form of mental illness regardless of what I have poked and prodded in my writing about the subject of creativity and mental illness. There is no link between creativity and mental illness.

The link between mental illness being a death sentence however can not be disputed. Mentally illness should either be given their own country to live in protected by international treaties or they should be simply killed upon proof of their insanity.

However there would have to be a sure way to prove it, because then what would stop these people like those I have known from killing innocent people out of hate or greed?

It seems in this world there are really only two things these people understand. One is money, it seems to talk to them. The other is violence. I’m all out of money. There can be no peace without justice and the abuse of people like me has amassed sins greater than those of hitler.

Unless this project is a classified military experiment, there is no reason for these people to make people sick for profit. Anyone that has used making people sick to manipulate or profit from others are truly sick.

There is another matter which must be taken up. Either all drugs are bad, or all drugs are good. I however am starting to believe in the former. All drugs are bad. The shit the psychiatry profession has been giving me really hurts. But I want them to think about one very important factor before they make a choice. Is the air they breath not a drug? There is the same properties in oxygen as a drug or something big Pharma tries to produce for profit. So if all drugs are bad, and they continue to breath oxygen, they are drug addicts and likely mentally ill.

If you want the full report on this idea you will have to do the research from my perspective and understand all the pieces involved. But seriously what is to prove that oxygen isn’t a drug? It’s a element in the planets eco system. Narcotics are simply elements in the eco system too. Are all drugs good, or bad? You want oxygen but you don’t want cigarettes?

There is this matter of having to deal with rats in a race. Everyone is trying to make money and get on top, but no one gives a shit about doing the very things that would make life better for everyone else. It would be better to be of use than to make a profit. If people could all have good and no one have to suffer wouldn’t it be better for everyone in the long run?

I see them everywhere, what I don’t see is the people that give a shit. No one has offered to help me, or love me.

I used to believe that my life had special meaning. I also believed that there was something that I am supposed to be doing that is so important that people have died for my sake to keep me alive so that I could accomplish this great feat.

After twenty years of struggle, I believe those ideas are worthless and lies. Should I have ever been born in this world? Or could they live without me? I have struggled with acknowledging that I feel hated and worthless and neglected.

So I reach out to get attention or a connection that will make me feel less isolated or alone in this world. They say if you do great work you will attract great people into your life. So therefor because I’m still alone, then my work is worthless and i’m useless? No, that’s a lie. I have value.

I have raised serious questions in my writing about the question if anyone else is even really here. Sometimes I feel so alone in this world that the people that exist in this world are just the past lives that were lived and people that I can not interact with because they have long been dead. Maybe I’m the only one here Because no one reads my writing and I have no real friends in this world, simply no one I can trust. I feel more alone than I should.

My mom makes me feel everyone but her is the enemy. And sometimes I think she is the enemy and she wants to hurt me by keeping me this way.

Other questions you will have to explore is whether there is free will or not. Or if there is not free will then when do we get free will and the fact of the matter is having free will has to be better than the conditions i’m under now, or it’s simply not going to be lawful under natural law.

There are questions of if we live in a computer. I can say there is reasonable proof that we do live in some kind of simulation. If nothing else a very bad dream. The question in my mind becomes is there free will and if not then why not?

The bible says that it does not belong to humans to direct even their own footsteps. If that is true does god possess them and control all of them? What’s the difference between free will and being controlled by god? Are they not all slaves?

There are other issues to think about. Just say no to drugs. Say no to Pepsi, that is some bad shit you don’t want to go there. So what is truth? How do we prove what truth is and how do we peacefully settle our disputes in ways that don’t destroy everyone in the process?

It seems the wrong possess might. They have made laws to break the laws. This simply will not do. It’s wrong. Natural order will ensue. I wish that I could explain this in depth. If you want further understanding then read all of my journals.

What is truth? This may be the most important question you can ask yourself today. To know the truth you have to know what some of the lies are. It doesn’t mean you believe the lies, it just means that you don’t mistake the lies for truth.

I have been talking about this a long time. Trying to understand truth and what has been done in the whole of time. I have reason to believe that I have been here a very long time. To the point that I believe I have had more bad things done to me than anyone should ever have to suffer. The truth is there can be no peace without justice. What has been done to me is wrong. Both morally and unlawful.

So what is the truth? Why have I gone all these years without friends, and suffered from mental illness like I have without the support or understanding of others? I have been treated like i’m worthless and useless and they wish I was dead. That is not a kind welcome into this world. We should look to peaceful and loving ways to settle our differences.

I have tried to talk about all of these things many times over. My family simple refuse to acknowledge anything I may believe because it’s different than what they think. Does that mean I’m wrong? Maybe I should be humble, maybe I should be more understanding with them. I have tried to explain my feelings many times, and they are always been met with hatred. They basically tell me to give up and quit. Like they want me to die.

I saw the illusion of free will and sought love and companionship only to suffer immense pain and burden. In world that is right and fair those things would never hurt like this. What is right and what is truth?

I have often expressed the sentiment that they have planned for this to happen. They wanted me drug free and sober. They forced me to be sober and on medications for this illness. But did they know that a sober man on their drugs would do and say and write all that I have done? How is that possible? So is there free will or am I stronger than they will ever believe?

What has been done to me is wrong. Unlawful and morally wrong. There can be no peace without justice. How many times are they going to hurt me like this? How many times do they think they can get away with it? How long before god notices their manipulative behavior and their gas lighting and they psychological abuse. Withholding love and affection is abuse. Giving someone the silent treatment long enough is abuse. These things do not bring out loving kind behavior. They bring out ruthless hateful people that want to kill.

If they want a kind world, then they should make a kind world. They can not say they want a kind world while they do behavior that brings forth people that are forced to be ruthless and cruel and hateful. You can not have it both ways. You have to either pursue peace or pursue hate, but you can not have both and still have sane kind people in this world. I lean towards having a kinder more gentile world. I want a kind world not driven by money and greed.. And most certainly not driven by things like false gods of luck.

I have been pretty nice and played with kindness in my heart. But like I said, these people only understand two things, those being money and violence and I’m all out of money.

So what kind of world do they want to live in? What kind of world are they trying to make? Are they trying to make cold blooded killers that have no remorse ?

To put someone through the emotional abuse I have suffered is both unlawful and morally wrong. So what kind of world do they want? To put someone through the abuse I have endured is wrong. What purpose does it serve?

Chapter Five

Pain and Hurt

You have to be reasonable enough to explore the ideas of thought without loosing your cool. I know I have been brought to the point of rage many times over and expressed myself in ways to prevent violence. But what is right?

Should I continue to allow these people to provoke me to the point of rage and violence and not do anything about it? What is kind and loving? I wish that there was a way to make them understand. They are childish and small minded. I doubt any of them have minds that would understand me. Are they some kind of other being that doesn’t understand me? I wish I knew.

Sometimes it feels like I’m from another planet. These people won’t be my friend, they won’t do business with me, and they won’t have sex with me. I’m not sure there is anything left. They won’t listen to reason and logic. They don’t read what I write and say. They don’t think about what I say, so what do we do with them?

There is another issue. There is the whole creative process. The project we are working on is many centuries from completion. When it’s done it will be great. We want the process to complete. Please see into the future far enough to see what I’m really doing here and what my purpose is. I just wish that we could all reach my purpose and still be kind to each other. At this rate the human race is going to blow themselves away.

I wanted love, I wanted kindness. I didn’t want hate and greed. I thought I was going to be famous for having done something great. But at this rate, I couldn’t get help from anyone if I wanted it. Try twitter and asking for help. No one will even ask if your okay. I did it about five times, I got one like but I was in desperate need of help. No one helped. I tried killing myself, the problem that I was hurting from is still present despite the fact i’m on anti-depressants. But that doesn’t do shit for broken teeth. You can not use a pill to fix a bad situation. Please create a world that doesn’t require escape from by using drugs to deal with it.

This world is fucked. I keep saying that. No one listens. I have began to wonder if my mind and eyes are my own only. I have to wonder if they have a computer in my body that lets them see and know everything I think do and say. What is truth?

Something really bad has been done to me. I don’t like it. What they have done to me is wrong, unlawful and morally wrong. There can be no peace without justice. They want me to give them a world that is a pair of dice that is permeant. I will not do any such thing if it means being disloyal to those I believe in.

This world is fucked. No one listened. I said it hundreds of times. Thousands of times. No one listened. Maybe they will get what’s coming to them. They don’t believe me. They treat me like shit, and act like they don’t give a fuck if i’m dead or alive. It makes me believe they want me to die and never live again.

I got news for them. I’m going to hunt ever last one of them down. Doesn’t matter how big the universe is, I’m going to take them out. I’m tired of this shit. What is truth?

They say the truth will set you free. These people lie so much they act like that would be a bad thing. Are we slaves?

I wanted people I could trust, people that would spend some time with me and talk about creative ideas with. Tired of this shit. Life sucks. Normal people are so fucking boring that I don’t want anything to do with them. Drunks and drug addicts are so closed minded they won’t even talk about ideas. The square people are so fucking boring they get their mind from the programming on tv. It’s sad.

When they go to bed at the end of the night the only thing on their mind is what they have been told throughout the day. They haven’t anything else to think about. Fucking dorks.

I want a better world. If they knew what we could have and what it could be like in this world, they would have their minds blown away with how good it could be. This shit they are living with now is just 1/100000000 of what we could have.

I wish I could get them to wake up. It’s like they are dreaming or something. It’s like they are asleep or something. Or like they aren’t even real people. I don’t know which. I may not want to know yet.

I try to keep the peace, but it’s getting tough to be kind when they make me hurt like this and won’t help me. The truth is they should have never let it get this bad and it’s unlawful to do this to me. Any more abuse I suffer will only bring gods wrath upon them.

So do they want me to live or die? They will wish I had commit suicide. I’m going to open a can of worms so big that even psi won’t be able to swallow.

I’m tired of this shit. If the end was supposed to come, it should have come. It’s not happened. Nor has the mass of things that I believed were going to happen also. So it’s all lies.

Fuck. This shit is getting deep. I wish I had someone to talk with about this stuff. So far I can not find a single person in this world to talk with about this. What’s up with that?

No one cares what I write. No one cares what I think. No one gives a shit what I believe. Are they insects that don’t want to think or read? Maybe. Fuck the world. Tired of their shit.

I wanted a wife, girlfriend, or someone to be a companion. What I got was a lot of hurt, guilt and pain. So what is the purpose of life in this world. To live like a zombie in front of the tv while getting all your mind control from drugs by psi.

Fuck. I hate the world.

That’s not life. It’s fucking brain dead mindless shit. I want a better life. One that I really live and have, not slavery. So what is truth? Why don’t they talk with me. Or spend time with me. What’s the deal that they don’t love me. I’m getting tired of asking these questions and want to know what the truth is. Is this life punishment from someone and why? How can they lawfully do what they have done to me and get away with it? They won’t.

This world is sick. They are twisted and sick. This world sucks.

If they knew what we could have. They wouldn’t believe me.

What is truth?

Chapter Six

Understanding Truth

I’m trying to establish my existence in this world, and without using dominance to prove the point. I Have tried to use logic and reason to explain how I feel and why I feel this way. For some reason I have this feeling that they simply will not ever listen to what I have been saying.

I don’t know why? I don’t know if they are not real people, or if they are some kind of AI from the simulation were all living in. I do know that I’m tired of this shit. I want to feel loved and wanted and needed. If they will not listen to my logic and reason, then there is need to force them to listen without regard for their health.

No one should have to go without friends or companions for such a long time and be made to feel everyone is an enemy and they should all die. Whom is really the enemy?

What they have been doing to me is unlawful. Maybe other people in the world don’t understand because it hasn’t been done to them yet. They don’t get what I’m talking about because it hasn’t been them that have been hurt and made to suffer like I have. Wait until they turn on you like they have been hurting me. Then your going to be pissed like I am.

I have been lied to, deceived, and time and time again forced to do what I would not willfully do. It’s wrong. They hate me. That might be a good thing. Because they should have been people I could have trusted. I have been made to feel worthless, useless, and like i’m better off dead all these years.

You would think that they would understand my point of view? They won’t even listen to my point of view, because they refuse to read what I write, to think about what I say, or believe that maybe i’m telling the truth.

So what is truth? Are they even real people?

Where are people that will spend time with me, or talk with me, that will communicate with me. Or people that want to live their life and be more than they ever dreamed possible? I’m tired of these people that say everything but watching tv is impossible. They are bad actors that are fucking stupid and lazy.

I wish I had a way to express my rage and anger in ways that would be more creative and would inspire other people to never let what has been done to me ever happen to them. I have thought many times before that they should never do to another person of my kind what they have done to me. Not ever.

How do we convince them that they are wrong. That they should be kind to everyone and that they should quit being foolish? Maybe it’s not possible. Maybe it’s just not possible. I wish it was. But misfits believe in doing the impossible so were going to fucking find a way to make it happen.

I have no one to talk with. No one in my life. No one that gives a shit. What can I do about this shit? I wish it were going better. No one to talk with. No one that will understand, and my mom wants it this way. I have thought about this for a long time. It’s morally wrong. Why doesn’t someone stop them from being so awful to me? Because no one is aware of what they are doing. Or are they? Does anyone know what they are doing to me?

Why don’t I have someone that knows how bad it’s been and comes to my aid? Why do they get away with what they are doing? How can they get away with this shit? It’s morally wrong and unlawful. So I am going to make this point very clear, stop hurting me and people like me.

I want peace, I don’t want to use hate to control, or manipulate other people. But I also need people in this world to see that what is being done is wrong and should not be done to anyone for any reason. I wish that people would understand that if they have done this to me, it could be done to almost anyone if they don’t know all the things to watch out for and to be aware of in their daily lives.

Someone is doing this to people to make money and profit from our pain and suffering. They do it to people so they control them and make them feel guilty for things they have no right to control. They use illness as means for hurting people that do not do what they want them to be doing, or thinking.

I know because I have studied my thoughts to the pains I have and have linked the pains I have to the thoughts I have and know for a fact that the pains I have are a direct result of the things I have been thinking.

They do not give any regard for me, but maybe if enough of you say “Stop It” And force their hand to actually stop doing what they are doing to hurt people that they will never again do these things to anyone for any reason. What has been done is wrong, if one life is all we get, if they do this shit to you, everyone will agree with me at how wrong what they are doing is for being unlawful.

I wanted a better life. I wanted to be happy. Those things have been denied to me. The very ideas and attainment of those ideas has caused me more suffering than any human should ever have to endure. It’s like they are trying to study us in a society that isn’t free, and isn’t honest. It’s all built upon lies.

If you question their lies, then they punish you. It’s time that we all wake up and stop letting this shit happen.

I feel hurt that people haven’t been drawn to the good I have done and that they haven’t noticed the good I’ve done along the way. It makes me want to do some very bad things because I feel like I’m being ignored, neglected, and abused. To what end?

Chapter Seven

Nice or Kind

There is a fundamental difference between being nice and being kind. It’s a subtle difference that I didn’t understand in my early twenties. But when I was in my early twenties I believed life had no more rough shit than a bad headache. I had no idea how much pain I would have to endure to get to here.

So I used to believe being nice was good enough. Because I wasn’t angry or cruel about anything. I basically believed live and let live and do no harm. Even after the threats that were made against me, I still didn’t believe in harm. It was only after they had made good on their threats that I started to believe that I was going to have to be cruel.

I would prefer it if people were kind. I think that’s better all around. I really do. However after twenty years of no one listening to me, and the suffering, pain, and severity of the issues at hand, I’m going to play nice.

Which is a subtle way of saying that I’m going to nail their ass to a wall in hell, and sue them until the sun refuses to shine; for kicks. Maybe what I’m saying is being and sounds threatening and cruel? It should. Because I want to sound that way to enact change of better treatment and better understanding. I would have never become this way if it wasn’t for their actions, words, and deeds.

I want a better life for everyone. They refuse to listen to reason or logic and make me feel i’m always better off dead than alive. To what end? Why do they want to force my hand to choose to never want to live ever again? Why do they hate me so much that they make me want to choose something so awful? Because they want to get away with murder.

Most of the things I have felt are too awful to repeat, even in bad company people don’t say the things I have in any form. But the situation does require that someone say these things, because the level of wrong that has been done to me is so off the scale that without something to balance the wrong there could never be any right.

I have been made to feel worthless, useless, and hated. If your trying raise fighting machines that kill without remorse, maybe your doing a fine job. However if your trying to make kind people that live in a perfect world for the sake of peace and quiet, you’re failing in this department in whole.

What kind of world do they want to make? What kind of world do you want personally? You want a better world? I know I do. I don’t like what has been done to me all these years and want to know how to make it better.

No one will talk about the desired results they are trying to achieve. Maybe their lies will catch up to them soon enough to make them eat their own shit. There are some other things that this world would make us be more aware of. Some people think it’s between cats and dogs. Others think it’s between the Indians and the cowboys. The answers to these questions require being weighed carefully before really embracing any answer.

To give a very brief introduction in the answer. Native Americans are the original. Everyone else is full of shit. Do your own research and you will know i’m telling the truth.

I’m being nice. What I could say would shock you. You want me to be nice or do you want me to be kind? Somebody should look into fixing my teeth. They can take their money and shove it up their ass, because what I want is loving kindness. I want a world where people are good to each other. This fucking rat race is fucking sick.

I will try to use language that makes sense. They have not responded to logic or reason. They refuse to read what I write. This results in having to use forceful language. Maybe what I should do is not warn them. Maybe what I should do is keep my mouth shut and let them hurt and find their own hell without telling them how bad they have hurt me.

They have been warned too many times and ignored the warnings throughout the process until it’s far too late every time. There will be no warning, there will be no advance notice. None.

They could have given me what I wanted. Their use of controlling mental illness to make me look bad and to discredit me in a world that is most definitely insane, I may be one of the only sane people here. No amount of therapy will help me adjust to a sick society. That is a fact.

Now would you like to hear the story about how I got here and the kindness I had that landed me into being hurting like this? You know to be kind is divine. But when it’s met with actions that are meant to control and manipulate over long periods of time with the intent of hurting people. That’s wrong, and being untruthful. So what I want to know is, “Are they honest?

If they are true and honest, I may be able to find it in my heart to forgive them. However I would have to have a complete record of everything they have ever done to me through-out time and history to know if such a thing is possible. If it’s in my favor, then I want justice for the wrongs done to me.

I was in the process of wanting to begin. My story starts with the year I turned twenty-one. It seemed like a fine year to me. All was well, I was healthy, I was working, I had family that loved me. All was well. Then something happened.

We moved a lot. Far more than I would have liked. The last move before my family split up was the one that changed everything. Everyone went different directions and the passing was with hate in their hearts. They were all in love with someone, but it wasn’t me. I hadn’t been able to find a girlfriend or significant other in my life. I was spending most all of my time alone. The bar became my hang out. A bad one at that. It took me a year and about five close calls with death before I started to look to other solutions for dealing with the pain.

I got smart.. I started working to make myself better. I started working to learn something I didn’t know. It was the only thing that saved my life. Still there was always a brush with death about every six months, someone trying to kill me or hurt me.

It got to the point that I couldn’t live a normal life, and the life I wanted wasn’t going to happen. Even today I look at the life I wanted and realize that it’s not possible.

What’s wrong with trying to find love and happiness? Others are successful in their pursuits. All my efforts have failed. To the point that I no longer want to try in this life while in this body. And this life is about to end. To be honest I’m looking forward to a new life in a new body.

I would have never started smoking cigarettes, but the mental illness pushed me to the point that I had no choice. Maybe I should have started to learn the real rules of life much sooner. What is truth?

Chapter Eight

A Brief Summary

So what I am saying is the following. I am very frustrated because of the following situation. I have been forced to be alone and isolated my whole life. Because of the lack of loving and kind relationships have not been possible I have had to make my work the most important thing in my life. Now my work is treated as shit, that I am shit because it’s my work and that I amount to absolutely nothing.

If I had friends this whole time my life would have been focused on spending time with other people and their lives and having memories of time with good people and having memories of good times. If I had been able to have kind and loving relationships with family I would have memories of family that loved me and cares about me. We would have photos to prove it. You know?

Because no one will respond to me, no one will spend time with me, and all of my past relationships have been so unloving that it makes me believe I am here in this world behind enemy lines that these people are all marked for death?

Because I have spent my time trying to do good things with myself, with my time, and being productive, while still dealing with feelings that were unreasonable, the fact is someone should have noticed and offered their friendship.

No one responds to me. Family ignores me, my work, and all my efforts. I have had to believe that my work was the most important thing in my life because it was the only thing that was keeping me alive in this world. Because their loveless relationships with me are less than loving. They don’t value me, my work, or my effort to keep the peace.

And they say I’m crazy. No family that loves their kin would have done this to me. Not ever. Unless they are trying to make cruel cold blooded killers, this is not a kind way to behave.

I want a better life. Where friends and family matter and have significance, where mutual respect and trust are not having to be proved every day of your life but known that they will always be there regardless of anything else.

In this environment I’m having to prove my value everyday and it’s never enough for anyone. It’s like they believe i’m not any good and never will be. Maybe I have family somewhere else that loves me? You never know.

I’m frustrated because none of my work has been understood, respected, or acknowledged. It makes me feel worthless to feel like my work doesn’t matter because it’s all I have in this life. I have tried to talk about the feelings I have and other people are simply too stupid to think about what I have said.

If you want to see results, then start to listen to me, my efforts, and what kind of world we really want. I know a lot of what I don’t want in this world. But no one talks about anything here. It’s all talk about the god damn fucking weather. Please take the time to understand me, I’m more than you will understand at first, and I’m better than you think of me.

Please take the time to stop being ignorant and begin to start to try to understand the truth. Their shallow faith isn’t enough to sustain my belief system. Because what I believe and know is more than they can imagine possible. My frustration comes from knowing more than they could dream and being stuck in talk about the weather with people that won’t listen or believe me about bigger and better things.

It’s like their minds are pre-programmed to only do one thing. Shallow mindless talk. Maybe they aren’t real people? If they are my programming is far superior than theirs. I’m at least aware of myself and the situation that is at hand. They don’t have a clue.

Chapter Nine

A Parents Responsibility

Raising children is a difficult task. There are many ways that are embraced, and many things that are frowned upon. I want to give you something to think about. A parent when they bring a child into the world has a responsibility to that child.

They are tasked with the importance of training a child to endure life, through good times and hardship. This requires being able to train a child to be strong enough to endure any situation no matter how difficult either emotionally, physically, or spiritually.

To properly raise a child in todays world, you have to teach them to be kind and honest in all that they do. The problem is that life in this world has become so awful that most people want to die. Which goes back to the parents responsibility to teach their children to be good people that are moral.

In the issues of suicide, a parent has the responsibility to teach their children to be so tough that nothing could ever make them want to die or kill themselves regardless of how painful, hurtful, shameful, or disgusting they may have endured or suffered.

So how do you make a kind world where people are always nice and that their children are so tough that nothing would ever make them want to kill themselves?

How do you make life better for everyone and still make a world that people are so tough that nothing will hurt their feelings, or physically ever hurt them, or emotionally hurt them?

A parent has the responsibility to teach their children that they have to be so tough that they never want to kill themselves or anyone else. So how do you raise children that are that tough? Do you punish them and hurt them all their life? Do you treat them like cattle that are soldiers that only live for the sake of living without regard for the quality of life?

Without quality of life, why live?

So it’s up to each of us to make life good for everyone else and to forgive others for wrongs done to us. And still be tough enough that we would never want to end our lives because of some difficultly or hardship or problem that we may suffer.

This applies to emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

They say if you don’t have your health then you don’t have anything. So in a mortal human body, death is natural. That still means that you have to endure the pain, suffering, and hardship to make life better. There should be some established limits as to what would be kind and honest. If you say suicide is wrong I want you to live my life and tell me what you think.

But parents are under the responsibility to raise their kids to be kind enough to not hurt anyone and still never want to die for wrongs done to them. War is wrong, murder is wrong, death is a natural end to all things.

But what if your children are immortal?

The wrongs done to me.

But the parents are responsible to raise strong children that nothing will ever hurt them. And that do no wrong.

Sounds like a case against immortality and living like zombies forever. Unless you want machines that live like people but have no free will. But that would be pointless.

In truth it really means that quality of life is important, for everyone in time. It’s not just a question of being moral, it’s an issue of being kind. Never turn your compassion over to a machine to determine what is kind.

It’s better to either have a big heart and be able to forgive any wrong doing, or be able to die and leave it in the past. The past becomes the past and the future awaits those that have forgotten and are reborn.

People that say they want everlasting life haven’t thought about it’s consequences and what they would have to do to make it work. Not unless your God.

A parents responsibility is to make their children honest, kind, and loving. With the resilience and fortitude that makes them strong emotionally, and mentally. They should love God and care about pleasing the grand creator. They should be of value in helping others and being kind in deed and action to all, even those who can not help them back.

A parents responsibility isn’t to teach them what to think but how to think for themselves. To know the difference between truth and lies, and to know that there is a difference between right and wrong.

Parents should not pass hurt and pain to their children and as much as possible to protect them from harm, hurts, and pain. A parent should not harm their children emotionally, physically, or spiritually.

To tend to their children’s spiritual needs while protecting them from the kinds of people that do harm. You can not teach them to love god in a world where people that preach about god hurt them as children. This is to say that the abuse in the church is beyond what is acceptable and just as immoral as the business people and politicians in this world. They are all bad.

In essence a physical body is just an avatar and what we do in our bodies doesn’t always have spiritual effects. However things that effect our psyche have effects upon us spiritually and should not be neglected or abused.

The basic teaching of this world are to make people weak, poor in mind and spirit and forget just what we really are. They want us to believe we are just sacks of shit in bodies that are mortal.

To be truly a good parent is to care for your child’s emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual needs in ways that makes them strong enough to be kind to all even in this cruel world that we have been living in.

To keep your children so protected that they never become reasonable adults that can think for themselves is to cause them harm beyond reasonable doubt. Do not over protect them to the point that they are forty five years old and still emotional children that can not do something of their own accord.

Do not make your children so dependent upon you that they can not live without you in their lives, they have to be strong enough to be responsible adults that can thrive and grow and live their lives in peaceful ways. (See notes in Warning.)

The use of drugs and alcohol are a difficult subject; what kind of life do you want? Many things work in cycles, some longer than others, stay sober to long and you will abuse drugs and alcohol in ways you never thought possible.

Most important is to avoid polarization. Any two extremes can be flipped all too fast. You find your too good and pure, you can be made to evil and awful with the flip of a switch. All good isn’t right because it’s polarized and could be made all bad. You want to have balance and love and compassion.

The best kind of love is unconditional love that exists without ever expecting anything of any kind in return. Any kind of love that is conditional is always toxic in the long run.

Growing minds should not be exposed to drugs and alcohol, however if you bring your offspring up in a house that is so toxic that they feel over stressed and burdened, they will seek to soften the pain of having to deal with so much. Everyone has pressure and everyone has difficulties, that said, you should be more concerned about your child’s emotional and mental well being than anything else. Addictions are hard to break, some things lead to worse things, but you may not be able to protect them from everything that exists and still let them live a life.

Chaining your kids up to prevent them from living is cruel and unnecessary. Let them have experiences, better yet teach them to love music, and poetry, and reading, and painting, and creative arts of all kinds. This can serve as medicine for difficult times and give them skills to deal with frustrations and problems that go beyond just existing.

The worst thing you can do is make your children live like zombies in drugged out mindless idiots that have no thoughts of their own or have no knowledge or skill or talent or experience.

Teach them that all drugs are bad. Even the ones doctors try to give them. Then they will know that there is no good drugs.

All things have responsibilities and consequences. Teach them the dangers of all drugs and make them understand what they are getting into before they go there. You want them to find out drugs are bad in rehab? Don’t wait to talk with them about the dangers of drugs until it’s too late. Teach them what each drug is and it’s dangers in advance. Always know your poisons. This doesn’t mean you give them drugs, it just means you talk about them before they are exposed to the risk.

Teach your children that there are dangers like mental illness and physical handicaps that will be difficult if they are afflicted with these things and make them aware that life will be more difficult if they don’t take care of their minds while they are growing up.

If you raise your children to be mindless idiots they will have mindless idiots as children. Remember that you are going to be grandparents and you want your kids to raise good kids.

Not being a parent myself, I can say most parents are probably doing better than me. Except for the fact that the world has become habitat to mass murders and serial killers. Maybe that’s why i’m not a parent.....

Don’t be over protective and let them live. Hold a spring tight too long and it breaks. Grease the wheels or face broken springs, you know? I see damaged people on all sides, people that went too far one way or another, people that are too messed up, and people that are so good that they are evil.

Teach your kind that they are powerful, that their actions have effects upon other people and that they want good results from their actions so the future will be better for everyone, even their own kids. Don’t sabotage yourself or your kind.

You reap what you sow. Don’t sow doubt, hate, or distrust.

Make life kinder, if you find me cruel, follow someone else.

You know what? Pray your kids grow up and go into business. Pray that they occupy their lives with artistic and musical endeavors or even race car driving. Pray that they have a family of their own and work to make life better for their family. When a boy begins to become a man, you should encourage him to seek affection and employment, and his own housing and his place in life.

The worst thing you could do is keep them from ever loving or caring about someone else. Who knows what kind of killer they could grow up to become. You know you hope your offspring grow up to be business people or politicians or even dare i say defending their own country, but to keep a person from these basic pursuits that grow love and kindness will lead the nation in creating a world of mass murderers. Yes you read that right, occupy your offsprings minds with things like business and play, even play that’s dangerous, but for heavens sake, love them and let them seek love and money and fame, and fortune, and let them struggle in life just enough to make it fun but occupy their minds and time.

Don’t keep them in pain or alone too long. Don’t hurt them too much or discourage their every move. Give them some hope, give them something to believe in. Be kind, because you want them to be kind.

It may seem wrong to have sex or to be watching movies that seem immoral or to seek love. But there are worse things that they could become if they don’t have the basic distractions in life that keeps them from becoming mass murderers.

You know keep them busy in study and learning, keep them interested in music and movies, and art of all kinds, but should you have failed as a parent, you will have raised a mass murderer with the likes that would make what Hitler did look like an ice cream Sunday.

If you ask me America is raising a league of mass murderers. Because they have done the very things they have with the cruel psychological warfare that has been going on these last twenty years.

Pray your offspring goes into the arts, or pursues having a family or having a life that’s better for them and their friends and their own family. But should you fail and you find that you have raised a mass murderer, maybe you had it coming.

There are worse things than getting in trouble for fooling around with young women or having a drink or some light drug use, maybe it will keep their minds occupied enough that they seek having more fun than learning the lessons of hate.

Make them dislike war, and respect it enough that they don’t want to die that way. Heck it would be better to die from a drug overdose than having killed a billion people. Right?

What kind of world do you want? Stop this madness or pay the price, you’re raising a world of mass murderers that will not even have a conscious. Stop the madness and make life better for everyone before it’s too late, because there are generations coming that will make what Hitler did look like it was kindness.

Don’t raise your children to hate being kind or affectionate. It might save you a lot of grief. And a lot of lives. Think about it. Keep ’em busy doing things that are harmless because if they grow up to hate and hurt, it’s the parents fault. Make a kind world and kind life for everyone. Otherwise history will pay the price and the blood of everyone upon the earth.

Chapter Ten

A brief introduction

The first thing to understand about mental illness is that is primarily used to discredit someone that the current political environment feels is a threat to it’s progress.

The second thing mental illness is being used for is to train killing soldiers that have no remorse for how many people they destroy, kill, or spoil goods.

As a political discourse the problem of discrediting rival political enemies is the paramount goal of any thing that effects the mind or mood of another individual that is being remotely controlled by external forces that can not be seen and only emotionally perceived and never fully understood by the victim. And what has been done to me is never to be done to anyone of my kind again. Not ever. Any purpose of discrediting or causing harm to another being must not be done.

Mental illness besides all of it’s pain, suffering, and problems is also like having an alien living in your skin that hates your guts and wants to kill you for not following the social acceptable norms of how to live like a zombie. It also appears that people have control of the remote switch to make people hurt, go nuts, or destroy their own lives at the will of another alien that feels that the real person who is being controlled by their alien is out of line with what they feel is proper.

This must be stopped.

These people believe that they are right and true and that my kind is not good people. Despite the proof how immoral their kind is in the controlling abusive gas lighting controlling behavior that they make my kind want to destroy them.

Mental illness feels like hell on earth and is emotionally the most painful form of abuse that can be inflicted upon anyone. It is worse than being beaten with a baseball bat and worse than being killed. They don’t want us to die, they really only want to make us their slaves. So they try to beat us down, control us, and make us feel worthless until we act out then they throw you away for being disobedient.

Mental illness is the worst form of emotional abuse that can be inflicted upon a person. Roughly equivalent to eternal death in hell. They do this to hurt people that they still think they can control and abuse and make their slaves.

What they don’t tell you is that they are testing people like rats in cages that they want to know how you will respond to every emotion, every feeling, and being controlled by every ninth degree that they want to make you accountable for their controlling you but they take no responsibility for their actions of controlling the victim and make the person feel really bad about themselves when they have been lured into performing a specific behavior to lead to bad situations. Most people never notice they are being controlled and suffer their whole lives being slaves.

Those that follow the appropriate norms of living like a zombie are rewarding with feeling better about themselves. Primary that they watch tv with mindless thoughts that they control and that you never think about the purpose or the events taking place. It’s a form of control, brain washing, and punishment.

What they don’t tell you is that if you don’t follow their mindless brain washing technics that they will drug you against your will, threaten you, hurt you more, and then treat you like your shit because you won’t do mindless zombie shit they want you to do.

They don’t tell you they are cruel and care nothing about you. What they don’t tell you is that they are so ruthless that they will stop at nothing to hurt you for their financial gain and profit in what they are doing.

They don’t tell you that the people of India are behind these efforts and that they are truly sick people that care nothing for other people that are not their kind.

The don’t tell you that their brain washing is all an elaborate rouse to control people that should be living the life of their dreams. They don’t tell you that they want to hurt you, your life, and make you their slave.

They don’t tell you that they are so ruthless that they will stop at nothing to continue hurting you until you conform to their ways. Not that they are right, but because they have power to hurt people they control people in these ways to get what they want.

What they want is namely that they want to discredit political people that they feel is a threat to their rule and to manipulate and control other people that will do their deeds.

They are ruthless vile people that may not even be good enough to be classified as people. They are alien, they are Pepsi, they are psi, they are your controlling partner, your abusive spouse, and the parent that claims they love you, they are your big brother watching your every move. They are ruthless and hate your guts.

They don’t tell you that this is war that will be fought the death of every last one of their children to ever be born.

They don’t tell you they use pain, illness, death threats, and suffering to control people. They want you to believe that they will kill you for telling people what they need to know, or the truth. Their whole system, civilization, and life is built upon lies, deceit, and ruthless cruel punishments.

They are the second wave of imbecile, those who hate knowledge, those who hate intelligence, those who condone ignorance and stupidity for the sake of trying to go free from being punished for having knowledge of what they are doing. They are not innocent.

They will use isolation, trivial indifference, and failure of everything you ever want as punishment. They will not let you be successful in anything you want to do unless they get what they want from you. Which is mainly mindless brain dead living like a zombie until they can have everyone under their control.

The psychiatric community got it’s start in India, that is where the whole thing started from. It’s also where big brother comes from. These people are rooted in deep government, control, and cruelty in doing their deeds.

Their abusive behavior may seem innocent at first, and can be mistaken for normal behavior, but only for so long until you figure out the truth. Their behavior is meant to seem harmless and be truly ruthless. They care nothing for us, about our well being, and how we are treated by others or how we feel about ourselves. They try to beat us down, to make us feel worthless, useless, and unwanted by anyone that ever will exist. It’s all lies that are built to discredit a political enemy that they know would destroy them if we ever learned how powerful we really are.

Gas Lighting

They will create situations that are meant to hurt you. They plan them, they stay up late thinking about ways to hurt you, control you, and manipulate you. You see it as someone that isn’t as kind as they should be, or someone that fakes sincerity but is truly sick in the head.

They build situations to hurt you and then punish you for acting out in ways that they want you to behave. The situation is duel purpose, it’s both to get a reaction from you and to provoke you to take a response that they can punish you for.

That is the whole purpose of gas lighting. To create a situation that you don’t like, then punish you for taking the normal reaction that it would cause a normal person to experience.

In order to stop the process you have to take a reaction that they will not understand. There are only two things they understand and that is money and violence. Everything else they have no understanding about. They don’t even understand how stupid they are.

Psychological abuse

They will make you feel lonely. They will keep you from having friends, close ties with anyone. They want to make you feel helpless against all odds that you have to rely upon them for everything you do in your whole life, it’s like they will never cut the umbilical cord and keep you their small minded slave forever. Right into paradise.

Their ruthless behavior will stop at nothing to control you. Their ruthless behavior cares nothing about your feelings, your pain, or your physical well being. They will not help you if you do not do what they want you to be doing. They are not below hurting their enemies and making it look like an accident.

The profession that backs them

The psychiatric profession is built using the lies that allows these people to assert their control and they even force you to take their drugs that allow them to control your mind and make you easy prey upon for controlling your every emotion, behavior, and response.

The psychiatric community is built to promote that an illness that is used to manipulate and control people, they built the illness to control you in the first place. They are backed by doctors that meet secretly with your abuser, and talk about how to control you and what is needed to manipulate you into being what they want you to be.

This profession was created in India and is used to control people that are not from their world. They have used such horrible practices upon us that they obviously are seeking death and war that never ends.

The world governments minds are all controlled by the gods of India and everyone alive is being effected by the mind control of the gods of India and the profession of PSI. They have created the very situation that they wanted to do worse than the fictional books of nineteen hundred and eighty-four. They have created a world that an honest true person can not live in. And they want to make it worse. They aren’t happy with just controlling your mind. They want you to be a zombie. Maybe you’re already dead? Find out.

Living clay with spirits dead. Find out.

They hate it when you disobey, they hate it when you fight back. They hate it when you question their mindless behavior. They hate it when you question or doubt them.

This world must be stopped from going further. The world they are trying to create is not worth living in. Question your beliefs and what you have been told. If you know deep down that something isn’t right, start speaking up about it. It’s time to run against them. It’s time to fight back. It’s time to quit being mindless slaves. It’s time to be who we really are. They want to discredit us, they want us to believe we aren’t good enough. The truth is we are better than they are, and they know it. Fight back. Use methods that confuse them, remember the only two things they understand is money and violence. Everything else is unknown to them. Get with it. ON the bounce soldier!

Chapter Eleven

A Treatise on Suicide

Of all the problems that will ever face a man, there is the belief that all challenges can be over come; either they can be overcome or they kill you. But is it ever right for a man to take their own life?

The thing about morals is just this, they don’t ever change depending upon who is in power. So what is just and right and true? To say that there is nothing in this world that would ever be so powerful as to make a man want to die, then they by god have the responsibility to train their children to be stronger, harder, and faster than any god ever will be.

Nothing hits as hard as life. So if it’s wrong to commit suicide under any circumstance, then they have the responsibility and moral obligation to train their children to be so damn tough that nothing can ever stop them but a bullet to the head. And even that they might have to live through.

What kind of cruel ruthless world do they want to make? Do they want their children to be so tough that nothing would ever make them shake their head and say it’s not worth doing, it’s not worth the pain and suffering? So you raise your children to be so tough that they never doubt themselves and never have a doubt about if they should live life. Then they become cruel ruthless murderers and have to be stopped. So where does it ever end?

There has to be reasonable limits of what is acceptable for a human to have to endure as a being and under what conditions they would be allowed to end their life. If they say that suicide is always a sin and always wrong and they fail to train their children to be so tough that they never want to kill them self, then what kind of world have you made in truth?

The truth is life is tough. People can be trained to be soldiers that fight through hardship and difficult things and still come out the other side as reasonable people. Sometimes it’s important to never give up and always keep fighting going forward to make life better for everyone else. You raise a world of cowards and pretty soon you have people so weak that they commit suicide because someone looked at them wrong.

Make a world so tough that no one ever thinks about killing them self and you make people mean and cruel to stop people from hurting them that become killers and murderers. So what is balance? What limit or reasonable limit would they place upon when it’s appropriate to kill one’s self? Depends upon what the basis of the healing process would be. If a new life in a new body was possible then physical wounds and mortal blows would be easy enough to transfer a person to a new clean and healthy body. So if that was the case then committing suicide would be a bad thing because you could get a new body in a new life going forward and a person could reasonably live almost forever.

So if a person was able to be given a new body that didn’t suffer from the wounds, then dying would be pointless and a tragic problem. But what we have now, is it really worth making someone live through more pain than a god could endure to grow up to be mean, hateful, and homicidal and not be allowed to end their life to prevent suffering of more people in the world.

What if allowing someone to die would prevent other people from suffering horrible injustice? What then would be the moral reason behind keeping someone alive under those circumstances?

You have to really think about what is truly morally right and good. Then there is the effect of what they society as a whole thinks is fair and right and true. Despite public opinion which is limited and childish there are moral reasons to let a person die that has been seriously hurt.

So my real question comes down to the issue of mental illness. Is a person that is mentally ill forced to suffer the pain of living while nothing will help ease the pain of living an emotionally painful life that they only want to die. What is right and true and good? If you keep a mentally ill person alive against their will and torture and hurt them their whole life for just being ill, they might grow old but with having no real quality of life. In today’s society we have to consider an important question, and that comes down to the issues of quality of life that a person can have.

If a persons quality of life is so bad they beg for death and they still say it’s wrong to die for that, and they fight a war that kills millions of people in battle; which is worse? The war is obviously worse.

So to condone war but say suicide is wrong is so hypocritical it’s suicidal because it’s still murder at any scale. So if allowing one person to commit suicide and it prevents a war that kills millions or billions of people, you still think it’s wrong?

As long as their are soldiers at war, then suicide must not be wrong, because what soldier thinks he isn’t going to die or kill?

If they say to commit suicide in those circumstances is wrong, should they ever fight a war that kills one person, they are more evil than Hitler ever was.

What is truth?

The truth is that war has to be illegal and they have the responsibility to train their children to be so tough that they never want to kill themselves regardless of what emotional, physical, social injustice they have to suffer.

So the question becomes how much pain can a reasonable person stand and at what point does the pain make dying reasonable?

Then all people die naturally so you still have people growing old and dying, which is basically suicide by old age.

What is truth?

Chapter Twelve

Enlightenment an Essay

Finding enlightenment can not be understood through teaching. No matter how many times you read this essay, you will not become enlightened as per se. You may be able to find a path that will lead to enlightenment, but the journey is strictly up to you as your own being. That said, take this as you find it as suited to your own tastes.

Most people find thinking a difficult task. Some even feel the act of thinking is painful. Perhaps society has made the very act of thinking so difficult that most people prefer to avoid it all together. I have found that thinking can be painful emotionally and mentally.

To achieve enlightenment requires that one be able to endure a great amount of that kind of pain. The process may be worth while, but why re-invent the wheel if a simple teaching would not solve the problems with the added avoidance of unnecessary pain and suffering?

The problem is that most people are hard headed and without some amount of discomfort and pain they will not be able to experience the essence of the teaching. That said, you understand that mediation is only an exercise in controlling your thoughts and the amount of pain necessary to attain understanding. It’s not the pain that brings the understanding, but the effort that is put forth.

As any athlete would tell you it takes a lot of pain in training to have the endurance of winning a competition or event. Likewise true understanding requires sacrifice of personal self and sacrifice of comfort to attain.

True understanding is common yet unrealized. Many people wonder why they have pain but don’t think of the cause of the pain and only seek comfort to the suffering. But to have true understanding a person would avoid the problem that causes the pain in the first place. So how do you find enlightenment without suffering the pain of thinking painful thoughts?

Well somethings are possible and if you’re an exceptional person you may be able to attain such a feat without suffering more than a mere headache from the effort put forth. Perhaps an extraordinary person could achieve such a feat, perhaps. I know that I would like to save you that pain that I have come to know to arrive at this point. While I may have attained a deeper understanding, and perhaps true enlightenment to a degree, If I can save others from hurting, perhaps there is a way.

No one wants to read everything I have ever talked about or written or said. No one wants the reward without the effort, or that is to say everyone wants the reward without the effort.

Beyond all teachings, there are just a few basic points. Be kind in word and deed without using or resorting to harsh words. Enjoy what you have without feeling the need for always to improve or gain more. A humble person may have less and be more happy than those who are too prideful.

Understand simple things and simple principals. Without rushing to conclusions you will find that everyday until the day you die is a learning experience that you can benefit from. With that said, don’t let a day go by that you don’t learn or think something new. May your pain be minimal and your joy be great.

The biggest mistake you can make is to think you are an expert and to rule out every possibility that you don’t agree with in the process. Because true understanding and enlightenment is more than what an expert can understand but less than a common sensible person will do by instinct. Study yourself before you pass judgement on someone else.

Chapter Thirteen

The frustration of an individual in a hive society

An individual that finds the self in a hive society is always in grave danger and should take immediate action to remove the self as far away from the hive through any means possible.

You will find that the hive will gradually remove you through its own methods of ex communication, using guilt and shame to repress or oppress the individual to the point they feel so worthless useless and unwanted that suicide looks like the only available option for the individual to take to change there situation.

The hive will always try to destroy an individual that refuses to conform to there methods of life regardless of how wrong either ethically or morally they may be.

The hive mind has no tolerance for anyone that does not blindly accept and faithfully believe what they say is true, without regard for any fact, honesty, or scientific proof contrary to the hive.

They feel no remorse upon the loss of one of there worker or slaves and only care about their queen or the new queen soon to come.

In advanced societies there are many methods for keeping tight control of the hive which may include using drugs or brain washing to subvert the mind of anyone strong enough to resist the already carefully placed measures to prevent an individual free rein in a closed society.

As a collective hive they only fear predators that pose a threat to their operations of gathering weaker beings to enslave and control. Any sign of violence that is considered un-hive like is punished. As a collective the hive has no way to determine good from bad or even how to establish any form of quality of their own standards.

Any attempt from an individual to establish improved quality or better conditions are met with severe hostility and immediate hatred. Not because the ideas of the individual are wrong but because they are different than the hive currently accepts as dictated by their queen.

The hive often suffers from lack of communication and willingness to work together just before total collapse. At which point there is nothing that can be done to save the queen or the hive.

Any individual will find life within the hive repressive, inhospitable, and oppressive. Individuals that try to group together are discouraged from leaving the den and are often socially restricted to solitary confinement for long periods of time. I’m not sure if there is a way to escape or if my efforts will result in my death.

If not seeking others in the hive who crave freedom and individuality is not met there will only be destruction of the brain bug and as such the destruction of the entire colony of all the hives.

Any attempt to assimilate me into the collective hive or to be fed upon by the brain bug will result in a virus the hive will never be able to cure. The entire hive and it’s collective evolution will be lost to time indefinite.

Please find where we can make an offensive push to drive the brain bug out of its den so the collective hive can be restored to its original purpose and the evil brain bug can be shipped to Area 51 for future study and destruction.

Read Perfectly Salty Now!