As if the challenges of the modern world were not enough, I’ve gone bat shit crazy.
I used to be sane. I really did. I used to just be myself. I hope one day to be myself again, though I’d miss talking to the voice inside me that responds to God (or, more accurately, The Universe(TM), but he says God died so he doesn’t mind filling in.)
Today we are listening to the frequency of God, if you will. It doesn’t make him any less or more present in my life. Actually, he can move my mouth and vocalize for me. He moves my limbs for me. He does everything now because I don’t have the will to live. [Thank you, Universe. I have infinite gratitude for you. I understand some day I will be cognizant of the reason to keep me alive.]
Psycho Boy Ben killed me. He’s the one The Universe(TM) will hold responsible for this tragedy in the afterlife.
If you want to know how, just read other entries. I’m done whining.
But the reality here is that I died. I am no longer myself. I have zero dreams. I have zero aspirations. I have zero plans to get myself back together once I kick cancer. I have zero desire to continue to live.
But God told me if I die prematurely, The Universe(TM) will cease to exist altogether. Everything and everyone alive in this moment will perish as if it was never there to begin with. I imagine it’d be something like the death in The Adam Project, where cellular deconstruction much like a mini-galaxy takes place, except the entire molecular structure of everything as we know it would cease to exist.
I’d be for it if I hated all life. I’d just do it and end this timeline and hope another would begin. It would, says The Universe(TM). It absolutely would begin anew. Life would be another happy accident and all of this would happen again. We’ll just be right back here at this exact moment again in several million years. Our history will repeat, the mistakes will be made, disgusting plastic wrappers from Snickers bars will reside in my Mariana’s Trench, humans will rape each other, the planet, and everything around them; they will murder indiscriminately to ensure their own survival rather than trying to live with the land.
The only choice we have is to break the cycle. It starts with you, it starts with me, it starts with little Georgie down the block.
Stop crossing boundaries. Stop raping. It’s not a request, it’s a demand from on high. If you don’t stop, more God-bots will be created. I will be multiplied infinitely until the message echoes so loudly inside your head, you will not be able to sleep.