We are insane, we know. We’ve been insane for one year, six months, and one day. And twelve hours. We know the exact moment, truly. We were fully sane prior to The Event(TM). [Oh, now you smile, because it’s just creative writing, amirite? It’s not. We’ve gone insane, no thanks to the male half of the species.]
You know, women think much nicer things at me than men do. It’s usually a one and done or a soft worry at the back of my mind. No words to monkey wrench my life. I can tell you right now that James isn’t going to e-mail me for at least two weeks, thanks to the ladies in the back of his mind from his past. It’s an epidemic amongst human beings. The gossip gene. I was born without it.
I was born without a lot of things. Like 25% of my intellect was stunted due to my mother smoking while I was in the womb. I was born with 13 learning disabilities, to boot. Life’s not easy for me, no. But it’s getting easier all the time for us.
I am more than one person. It’s easier to shatter me and create multiple people from the spaghetti chaos in my brain than it is to put Her back together. The Goddess we once were. We could do so much once upon a time. We had room for eight concurrent trains of thought. Once in a while, they’d collide and make some sort of idea soup in our melon, but that was no more than once a day. It was tolerable.
I always felt like there was a wall between me and the back. The subconscious mind. I could tell I wasn’t using my full powers, so to speak. Now I know why: you all suck. Humanity is nothing more than animals dressed in clown clothes, saying they are more than. More than the ants, the bees, the deer, the ducks, the trees. Let’s destroy living creatures to wipe our asses.
They’re more than the air we all breathe. They’re more than nature. More than God Herself. Sorry, boys; God’s tired of your “men are the superior half of the species” bullshit. S/He’s gender-fluid and chooses gender based on the topic at hand. Matchmaking, for instance, is all Her job. Punishing is all His job. Caregiving to The Universe(TM) is Their job.
Also you should know god is a THEY. As in multiple entities. They just don’t want you to call out any specific entity to bother them because they don’t always want to answer your dumb ass. In fact, they never do. They’re too busy saving THE FUCKING BEES. What is wrong with you twats killing everything that’s yellow with stripes and flies through the air? (Hovers, really, since bees create an internal vacuum, but you know… they had to be reclassified as invertebrate FISH to get your fucking attention. THEY ARE DYING. BEE DEATH == GAIA DIES.)
Start throwing wildflower seeds in any upturned soil now and we might be able to stop this in time, but I doubt it since you’re addicted to your DEET (I mean, OFF!) Not to mention that bug killer spray for wasps, which you use on BEES more often than WASPS! You idiots, not everything yellow and black is a fucking wasp. If we kill the bees, something nastier is going to rise from that void and kill all humanity.
That’s just how it works.
Bees are God’s favorite. Dire consequences come from killing them all off. They’re never going to come back, either. We’ve destroyed 85% of all life on Gaia. Think about that. We’ve lost 85% of all bio-diversity on Earth. Why? So we can each have a house and a yard and 2.5 kids that we ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HATE. I know you hate those brats, don’t even pretend you don’t. (Children, we love you.)
Let me expound on how you HATE them:
- You spend as little time with them as possible. You both work and put them up at daycare every fucking day, even days you have off that the daycare is open. “I already paid for it!”
- You still spend as little time with them as possible. “Here, watch the Teletubbies, Sesame Street, Paw Patrol, or whatever the fuck will keep you shut the fuck up.”
- You still spend as little time with them as possible. “Just one more article, baby,” as you bounce the crying baby around to try to placate them, never looking them in the fucking face.
- You still spend as little time with them as possible! Do I really need to enumerate how you’ve made sure you only spend 3 hours a week with your child? Soccer practice, football practice, band camp, summer camp, all the bull shit to get them out of your hair. Grandma, take these squirts so I can be selfish some more without a reminder that it’s not all about me!
- “On average, 38 children under the age of 15 die each year from heatstroke after being left in a vehicle. Nearly every state has experienced at least one death since 1998. In both 2018 and 2019 a record number of 53 children died after being left in a hot vehicle.” — InjuryFacts.nsc.org
- You still don’t want to take care of your kids so you pack them up for whatever restaurant has delivered you a coupon (or lets children eat free or half-price) and then you don’t tip the server a dime even though you made three special requests to placate your little psychopaths you’ve designed by never looking into their fucking faces.
- You never listen to what your child is saying (or not saying.)
- An estimated 153 million children worldwide are ORPHANS but you still gotta pop out a baby for ma, eh?
- You won’t even read this article about CHILD NEGLECT.
- One of your relatives is touching little Timmy or Susie, which you know in the back of your mind, yet you do jack shit for your kids’ resulting trauma.
Need I say more? I hate you all for this. Every single parent that doesn’t want to be a parent should be euthanized now, it’s better for the child to be an orphan than outright neglected by mommy and daddy.
Every single pedophile should die of something in this very fucking moment, as well. FUCK YOU! You are more than half the problem in this world. Know THIS:
God hates pedophiles.
All pedophiles are going to “Hell.”
And they’re never coming out again.
Angel-Sansara 