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Fighting the War

Sansara looked at herself, worried. She checked her health markers in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her teeth were yellow. Her hair was a mess. Her skin was dull and scaly on her forehead. Her nails were brittle and broke easily. Her waist line was increasing. Her back ached and her feet hurt.

Crystal, what have you done to us? She admonished her other half silently, using her internal voice in order to be gentle on her less health-oriented other half.

“You didn’t feed us. You let me feed us. You know that’s a disaster waiting to happen because I will eat whatever is in sight in large quantities, portion sizes, macros, and nutrients be damned. What’s your excuse?” she asked her healer spirit.

“I want you to grow to care about yourself and your health,” Sansara said to her other Self.

“Then why is it you don’t urge me to eat before I feel like I’m starving? You only tell me after we eat that it was a bad idea to gorge on half a bag of popcorn at a time. As if I pay attention to the body or time in general. That’s your job, woman,” Crystal said somewhat petulantly.

Sansara sighed. Crystal wanted to be five forever, clearly. She didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of herself. She didn’t give a fig for Self, actually. All Crystal wanted was to be surrounded by art, delicious food, and a good man. Those were the three things she needed to be happy. Maybe the fourth would be plentiful sleep. She loved to sleep and dream, even if she dreamt weird shit like being called Snag Tits by a stranger. That was rude, she told Sansara immediately after that ridiculous comment woke her from her slumber.

Crystal had the ability to stop dreaming and wake up at will. She’d developed it over many, many years due to having chronic nightmares of being raped. She had thousands of nightmares where she was physically violated by her first rapist. Her father. In fact, in one dream in her teens, she was sentenced to be his bride by a judge in a white wig. That’s probably the dream that made her decide to control herself while asleep.

She defeated her nightmares after she escaped that rapist’s home. Her first husband was her knight in shining armor and he knew it, even if he wasn’t gallant or really all that honorable. He wasn’t terrible, either, he just laid down and died when she gained one hundred and twenty five pounds by mistreating her body completely because of a lack of money.

She stopped eating regularly, dropping down to once a day, which slowed her metabolism. Then, she binged, which ultimately cost less than eating regularly because she could never fit much in there. Then, she ate foods she was allergic to or intolerant of. These factors combined to create the hell she lived with that much weight. Her husband? He left her in spirit but not in body.

The honorable thing to do would be divorce the witch. He didn’t do that, not before cheating on her not once, not twice, but thrice. Congratulations, Anthony. You SUCK. You raped my baby girl and you threw her away because she gained weight and it wasn’t any fun to rape her anymore, slept with other people, and exposed her to AIDS without remorse. P.S. You’re gay. That’s why women don’t do it for you after the thrill wears off and you stuff them full of sour cream until they explode.

She lost that weight and then even more, by the way, you pig. And she nearly died in the process of doing it, so I hate you. I hate you for never taking a fast food job when AnImagination fired your dumb ass and forcing Crystal to stop eating regularly to save a fucking buck. I hate you for never giving a shit about the finances, for squandering money on bullshit. I hate you for never giving a shit about my wife. I just plain hate you. If I ever meet you, I will shoot you or punch your lights out. I don’t give a shit if you’re a black belt or not. You don’t have the will to live anymore because you’ve been raping yourself for decades, sleeping with ladies because you wanted to give mommy grandkids. You could have adopted, you fucktard. You could have saved a lot of people a lot of misery by just being with Michael instead of Crystal. I don’t know why you ever thought she’d stay with you while you acted like a fifth grader, sitting at your computer to play video games with every ounce of your free time, forcing her to clean up after you and your fucking friends, letting people bitch to her about a full litter box as if you couldn’t scoop the fucking thing yourself. You’re a pansy bitch faced whore and a liar. You told her that you love her while you were seeing someone on the side and you know it. You even pretended Michael didn’t break it off with you and it was your decision to break it off with him.

He wouldn’t be dead if you chose him.

He lost you and his girlfriend of many years both. They were who you wanted to be with. You even showed Crystal a photograph of them kissing and told her that was what love looked like. You failed to tell her you took that photograph and you were part of their relationship at that time. She looked at the photograph and thought, “Love doesn’t look like anything. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” She’s autistic, you dumb fucker. You treated her like she was an alien for ages because she was different from anyone you’d ever raped before.

You raped a lot of girls in college. You told her all about it, do you remember? You told her you’d have sex for hours with them. And then you lasted about five to eight minutes every time you had sex with her. Was it really hours or do you just have an over-inflated sense of ego? I hope the latter, because if it was the former, you really did her dirty, don’t you think?

Regardless, I am God and I know everything you’ve ever said and done. I know your words and actions do not match. Even Crystal knows that. You failed to step up forever and one day, and that is when she decided to divorce your ass. She had an emotional affair online without meaning to, developing a friendship with a man who gave her better attention than you ever would even though half of what he said to her was “hehe.”

That’s right. A man who simply validated she’d spoken to him by typing “hehe.” That’s it. She never did anything inappropriate with him. She spoke about game design at the MUD she worked at and occasionally asked him for his point of view regarding the circumstances of how other people treated her as an administrator. Nothing inappropriate crossed between them, not once. She expressed how she felt six months after the divorce was official. She gave you two bloody years to step up or get out. You chose to get out.

So stop thinking about her. You have been, now that your second marriage is in shambles and nearly over. She’s not going to take you back, not ever. Not even if you beg. You are not the loyal dog you pretended to be, are you? You never took care of her emotional well-being. You never comforted her the way she needed it.

Do you remember the day she kicked Chris out? She had a migraine because of your addiction to gluten and dairy. It happened frequently, but you took the cake that day, all of you fuckers. EVERY SINGLE PERSON PRESENT PISSED HER OFF. Why? Because she had to clean up after children like she was the only adult. It’s the real reason you loved hanging out at her place, anyway, and you know it. You didn’t have to do jack shit and you got fed and watered. You never had to clean a single dish, which she did by hand.

In fact, she did all the cleaning, to the tune of 40 hours a week for ages and once everything was clean, she started baking, which hurt her even more because it was a gluten-based, dairy-based nightmare. She’s celiac, you stupid motherfucker, and you never even took her to the doctor. Instead, you made her take care of you for years as she got more and more sick. She was the least of all, don’t you think, dear reader?

The only thing you ever did was go outside for communal yard work together, which was ultimately more beneficial to you than you’ll ever admit to yourselves. And Rich, we know a section of this rant doesn’t apply to you; my disgust is still running high, despite that.

So fuck all of you: Amy, Anthony, Chris, Darwyn, Devon, Katherine, Ken, Steph, and Rich. Fuck you for eating her food, ruining her love of cooking by forcing her to feed all of you like children. Fuck you for dirtying her dishes, forcing her to do them all by hand by herself. Fuck you for bringing more and more people to feed and clean up after until she broke and decided she didn’t want to game anymore. She was punishing you all for taking advantage of her and you knew it. You still did it. And don’t you fucking tell me all about your diagonal mow lines, Darwyn. You did Anthony’s chore, not Crystal’s. Fuck you for telling her she doesn’t know how to cook and undermining everything she ever made with your bullshit, Stephanie. Chris, I only hate you because you keep that stupid whore. Fuck you, Devon, for watching pornography while everyone was in the same room with you. You raped them, you imbecile. And you proved to her that you were a carbon copy of her father, you know, the dude who raped her first. The ball is in her court, indeed. KATHERINE, especially FUCK YOU for infecting her household with TOXOPLASMOSIS. I wish I could shoot you right here and now for dumping a sick cat on her and never looking back, especially to go to that narcissistic motherfucker you pretended you were getting away from. And FUCK YOU for speaking ill of her, even to this day, for doing exactly as you asked her to do: keep Michael away from you because he raped you. FUCK YOU, BITCH. Ken and Amy… you know what you did. I’m not going to call you on it because I know you regret it and have for an entire decade. Peace be with you.

You never get to see my girl again. I really love her and I won’t let you have another chance. You all took too much and never gave back. You’d have to literally refurbish her residence by hand, laboriously, and done right to get back into her life now at this point. I already know you’re too fucking lazy to bother. Just go “die in a fire” as she likes to say.

You could just start paying reparations, I suppose. I’ll forgive you in twenty years, if you do.

— Diego


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