I’ve been eating honey here and there lately, hoping it would cure any ulcers I’ve obtained. I have some, and it does help. I thank the bees every time I squirt some of my raw honey onto food or into a drink. I like them best over nuts, especially since Cheerios are cross-contaminated with cocoa, which I’m allergic to nowadays thanks to Dr. Death and her death diet.
I have dreams of doing things that will entertain this world, the people therein, but there is no use. In twenty years, we are all dead. I might as well go on SSI and just wait. What can I do? Oh, wait. I’m already doing it. I can write to save the bees. The planet. Humankind.
Scratch that… humankind is worthless. We caused this problem. There’s no way in an untouched world the pollinators that are the mother of all life would fail as a complete system world-wide all at once. That’s what’s happening right now. And why? Poison wheat. Give it up, children.
I have. I eat vegetables instead of grains. I think I might need like a handful of grain per day. I prefer oatmeal; the rest really hurts my body. I can tell because when I eat what my body prefers, then I feel good from the inside out. I’ve spent the majority of my life not feeling good on the inside, not understanding it’s because of poison food. Paprika, to start with. On an innocent slice of pizza.
I gotta tell you; I miss pizza. But after not really eating it for years… that feeling goes away. I used to try to put it on slices of zucchini, you know. Mozzarella and olive oil and zesty seasonings. That made it satisfying. But now? Now I know that cheese hurts me, too. Not just me, but the cows. The poor bovines. I will heal them after I’m sure the bees are going to be okay. It could take years, though.
You could help me. It’s actually simpler than you think, too. I’ve come across scientific evidence that if 1% of Earth’s population thinks about a specific goal altogether, it will change how the rest of Earth’s population thinks about it. All I need you to do is think with me. Think about the bees, the bovines, the environment at large. Think about Gaia being reborn into the Eden we all deserve to be part of. A living planet once more, ripe with a plethora of life. Bursting at the seams with untold mysteries.
I need you to believe we save planet Earth from destruction. Because, if you don’t, well… The Destroyers(TM) that I called (quite unintentionally, might I add) are going to arrive and they will do their job without question. But… if we can change the way we think… they would do something else instead. They could help us. They could help us clean up the mess we made instead of lasering us into piles of ashes.
Yeah, that’s the future, even if we save the bees. Because we got it this bad to begin with, like fools. You know, I know I’ve got two bee hives on my property, and I rarely see the bees these days. I hope they’re just not around when I go outside, but that seems unlikely, doesn’t it? I try to heal them every day. I heal the whole house and everything near it to the best of my ability. The problem is that I’m more than half dead still, thanks to that void-lurking imbecile, Nicholas Forsythe of 450 Tennyson Drive. I WILL KILL YOU, BOY, FOR MEDDLING WITH THE CAMPAIGN TO SAVE THE BEES.
Angel-Sansara 