Yup… I’m listening to my own epic playlist. I have something I could say about each and every song, but we’ll stick to the plot: THE VOICES(TM).
The answer is: because I can. Your brain will catch up in a… hi.
I’m disappointed in my cake that is far too sweet. I had a feeling that would be the case, making frosting with powdered monkfruit since I’m sugar-free. That one is not an allergy, just a mere life-saving preference. Sugar causes cancer, y’all. I know in the USA, we don’t want to believe it, but in Europe they’ve already figured it out and reduced or removed it at large. But here? Check whatever you buy in the store. It most likely has sugar added, even if it’s deli cuts.
I’ve been buying those for my mother here and there, especially when they are priced inexpensively. And, when it strikes me to be extra creepy, stare at a man who has no idea I exist. (It’s only stalking if I follow him home, right?) Actually, I was hoping I wouldn’t go unnoticed, so it’s not stalking at all. It’s neither here nor there; he’s taken, y’all.
They all are. All the “good ones.” That’s a myth they sell us, you know. The only good men (and women) are already married. It’s to make you settle for a shit show. Well, I’m here to tell you a secret: you don’t have to take it anymore. [Twisted Sister – We’re Not Gonna Take It. That’s what the link leads to.] What link, indeed.
You know what sucks? Being too lazy to go get floss to remove whatever I got stuck in between my teeth. I guess I’ll fix that now that it’s been status quo for half an hour.
It was brussel sprouts, wouldn’t you know?
It’s funny how being limited to a handful of vegetables and beef means I get veggies in my teeth.
Anyway, I was telling you how the Kundalini Awakening sucks more than vegetables in my teeth. You see, it wasn’t until I got that third attunement that I started hearing other people in my head. Up until that point, I’d drawn something like 120 drawings to try to explain my life to The Man of My Dreams(TM). It turned out he was not a man at all, more like a child dressed like a man. I had so many drawings, I thought to share them and I was like wait! That’s just going to be spam!
So what do I do? I make a fucking music video, that’s what I do. I didn’t really review it after making it because each piece made utter sense to me, but together it was kind of a chaotic cacophony. It turns out putting images that have words on them to a musical piece with words in it is just a little too much. [Guano Apes – Rain… that’s the music piece. I’m not sharing my story just yet… sorry. Go back to SHY! It’s almost like going to jail in Monopoly. BTW that guy totally had a monocle in the original publication. Stop making up conspiracy theories about the Mandela Effect just because they upgraded the mascot over the years and all the older versions of the game ended up in the trash. Shame on you for throwing out perfectly good games.]
[Or did he?]
God’s been here my entire life, just FYI… I would have called Them my intuition previously. It’s exactly what intuition is: listening to God. That is, if you’re mentally stable. You’ve got to figure out what reality is by getting a PhD in logic. You might have one at the end of this story. I can’t make promises like that.
But BenjaNick and Lucien arrived in late February or early March, sadly. Or if they didn’t, I was being prepared for it nonetheless. God explained The Rules(TM) of telepathy to me and I recall going through a bunch of mental gymnastics. I also recall going through what felt like people trying to interface with me, none of which were Nick… the supposed man of my dreams. He was trying to prove we had telepathy in my narrative and I kept hissing and spitting at anyone not Nick.
I had to keep coming up with mental passwords because people tried to imitate Nick just to get access and force me to read their broken brains instead of his. I remember thinking rather distinctively that all I wanted was to be with my loved one and yet we had to keep playing this stupid fucking game where he just showed me off constantly as some sort of PONY. I AM NOT A SHOW PONY, MOTHERFUCKER.
God explained to me that he can never be with me because he’d get me murdered. And if he didn’t do it around the telepathy, it would be through food I cannot eat because he’s a lazy git. His mom still does his fucking laundry and he’s in his mid thirties. And I thought that thing was the man of my dreams!
She runs away screaming!!!!!
I’ve been taking care of myself since I was eleven. It’s early by most people’s standards, but I like to view it as learning life skills early. I got a head start on adulting! (BTW, do you hate it when you floss and then it still bugs you, like it’s still there?! I DO.)
I get the idea now that he only does the bare minimum to continue to exist.
That. is. not. a. MAN.
That is a child.
Angel-Sansara 