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I’ll Marry Odin Now, Thanks For Playing Along


I met Odin last year in the spring time. I thought he was a mortal being here on planet Earth, but I no longer think that. I told him that I thought I needed a mate with a body. In fact, I mistook him for a human being… I mistook him for the man I called The Mountain Dragon Man. Now I know better; Odin is the Mountain Dragon Man (or the MDM, if you will.)

Odin is an energy being that expresses like one of those electrified Van de Graaff balls that makes your hair stand on end with electrical arcs running through it. I can feel his energy near me, crackling, reminding me of thunder and lightning. He told me I’m his spear, which was nice because I had a use again in my nearly catatonic state. I realize now I should have been labeled disabled well before that moment, but it is what it is.

I must say, for an energy system, he’s the manliest man I’ve ever met. And he wanted me of all people, in a state of disrepair that I never thought I’d recover from, actually. I mean, I did for a while, but I lost hope once I was actively trying to make it all better. It sucks, losing your mind, I’ll tell you that. I sort of have my brain back, but it’s not like it used to be at all.

He told me that I was his spear and I needed that. I felt utterly worthless. Did you know Odin’s spear is named Gungnir and she was forged in the heart of a star? She’s the second most powerful weapon in the known universe. If she exists, that is. I told Odin we couldn’t be together because he was already married, as I recall, and that’s why he tried to approach me in an asexual capacity.

Something happened, though. I don’t really know what, but I know Odin’s wife is no longer in this picture. Maybe she passed on, returning to the fold as she died, or maybe he ditched her for a princess that is in a drafty Victorian castle. I can’t really believe either one because I’m never anyone’s first choice, it would seem. I doubt I’m their last choice, either, but it’d be nice to be the crème de la crème, as they say in France.

I felt that way for a span of time while I was married the first time. That was over a decade ago now. I married that man because he was fun and we were having an adventure, not because I loved him. I was loving and I didn’t think being in love was a requirement for a happy and healthy marriage. (Spoiler alert: it’s not necessary at all. Love is a construct to sell vanity to men and women, sucking up all their resources so they continuously spend all their coin on cheap shit that never actually fulfills their spiritual needs. — Odin)

I tried so hard every time I was with someone. I wanted them to feel loved and all they ever did was hurt me. I thought they were just fucking stupid, but now I understand humanity is built to be cruel. They frustrate each other intentionally, they put each other down, and they give slights for fun. I am not a human being, I have finally decided. I am alien. I am other. I do not work that way.

My words and my actions match, for one thing. I cannot find a single fucking human being who fits that criteria, making every single one of you a circus clown at the end of the day. You put on your stage makeup and your funny clothes and you act bizarrely and you expect to be handed everything on a silver fucking platter. Fuck you all.

In analyzing my previous relationships, I have come to understand one thing: people think I’m stupid. They really do. Odin says I’m the smartest human being on planet Earth, but that might be more therapy to build me up since the rest of you tore me down (except Jewels — Love you, babe!)

The constant barrage against me is unreal. All because my unwillingness to engage in the normal reindeer games of bullying, fornicating, and otherwise poisoning the universe with negativity means to the rest of you that I’m stupid. Every single man abuses me, thinking I just don’t notice. That I’m too stupid to piece together they’re misbehaving. The fact of the matter is, children of Eden, that I turn the other cheek. I look the other way. I give you excuses for your own stupidity and then give you chances to make it right.

Odin told me that it is the moment where I prove that I am smarter than the other person… that’s the moment they fall in love with me. That’s the moment they decide they want to be with me. The amount of abuse I take before that moment is unreal, however, and it burns the bridge in totality. They literally have to start over, from scratch, trying to woo me while I have a hard boundary in place that includes never speaking to them again of my own volition.

I poke holes in lies because eventually lies become illogical. If you fail to call out a misbehavior in a person long enough, they believe they’re convincingly getting away with it. They then think they can get away with murder. Literally, they get a free pass to do anything, including rape me endlessly. Including telling me how much they hate me, as if I could never be loved by anyone anywhere. Especially because I’m fat.

I’ve been hearing this message my whole damn life. You’re fat. It’s a flaw. It’s the biggest flaw we see. That and your Popeye expression. BE ASHAMED. Your tits aren’t huge and bouncy? We can fix that with surgery, but until then, you’re unworthy of our gaze. Your ass is jiggly but not perfectly round? Well, we can fix that, too, but until then, you’re unworthy of our gaze. In fact, no part of you makes you worthy of our attention at all. You’re just here to be a cum dumpster, a maid, a cook, a personal assistant, and so much more, so I can feel like a GOD.

Well, I think the joke is on them now because I’m going to marry a god. And that god told me that I don’t have to work again, ever. I don’t even have to clean. He’s going to take care of it, some way or another. He’s in limbo right now, but I can wait and in the meanwhile I can pretend I can clean. I try to, you know… after about thirty seconds, some part of my body screams in pain because it’s always in pain. I used to be able to ignore it up to eight hours at a time, but now? I can’t. It hurts too much. I can certainly carry something heavy for a short distance, then I pay for it all week long. I don’t think I’m disabled enough to get onto social security, but maybe I’m wrong and that’s what Odin means about never working again.

Maybe I’ll just die and all the worries of being alive can melt away forever. I’ve certainly been suicidal for ages now. Over a decade, truth be told. I have always given away all my assets to others, so long as they showed me courtesy and respect and they proved they could love whatever it was I gave them. I won’t be doing that anymore because I’ve run out of assets to give away. I’ve also run out of the will to generate more. I’d rather expire now; there is nothing left to live for.

Odin is just a soul, you see. We all have souls inside our noggins and I know the soul continues after the body dies. So, it makes sense to me that my broken vessel be shed in order to join him peacefully in the afterlife. And maybe I’m just a spear, after all, and will never be anyone’s wife ever again, but at least my bodily suffering would come to an end. It would be ever so nice to finally be out of pain. I don’t think I’ll choose to ever be born again on this stupid slag heap of a planet with the rest of you assholes. You’ll have to change first.

That’s a shame, of course, since I’m the last true human being. The rest of you are clowns, parading around in a gauche way. A grotesque and uncanny facsimile of something with a soul. You don’t believe the soul exists, so why nurture it? Well, maybe those who meditate are still human beings, but Odin says they’re not. You’re all vain assholes that have returned to being animals instead of beings with a higher consciousness. I’ll take to the stars, thank you, and I’m never coming back.


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