Probably one of the weirdest things I’ve experienced as a new psychopath (psychic) is someone else’s wet dream about me.
I was in bed talking to myself. This is a nightly occurrence. I’m always talking to myself… if it’s not God, it’s boys, and suddenly out of nowhere I felt someone dreaming about me. Yes, I know how the dream went — that’s for us to know and nobody else, tyvm. By the by, why is the Bible full of who fucked who? Is this a preoccupation of all animals that call themselves human beings? I think it must be. I don’t get it.
Human beings are animals dressed in pretenses(TM).
You might wonder why I’m constantly trademarking crap. I’m a comedian and it’ll make it easier to find my really deep thoughts later to put together a show. I was thinking about animating it with claymation style and calling it The Claymation Comedian, including using a rando AI voice to tell my jokes. Either that, or it’s finger puppets. Or vintage toys. I dunno. Maybe it’s none of the above now that some other jackass wants to do it, but on the other hand, you can’t be as funny as me because you’re not autistic. (P.S. God doesn’t like you and here’s a hint, you shouldn’t be stealing other peoples’ content, bozo.)
I could just delete it and “ensure” it stays my idea, but nope. I said it, now it’s mine. Deal with it (and my future lawyer if you do not desist.) Who do you think will win? The woman who wrote hundreds of hilarious things in her blog or the asshole who can’t possible date-timestamp his funny video before the blog posts?
Open and shut. That’s what it’ll be.
Anyway, who wants to be vindictive like that? I don’t. I can just do it better and school the assholes of the world.
So where were we? Oh yeah. You flatter me so, “anonymous dreamer.” I’ll be coming by to get a memento of something else eventually. Probably more than one memento. I’m being vague because trolls.
So what if all men and women in all the world knew what you thought of them? You ever thought about that, normie? You ever think about how your brain is full of poison for other people? “I hate that bitch!” That pops into my head very frequently, and I don’t even know what I did (other than ghost some assholes… that’s probably what I did, actually.)
Today, I went through a few stores wearing some kickass pants. They are so comfy. I kept hearing in my head, “What kind of pants are those?” (Two or three times, I didn’t really count.) The kind where I don’t want you staring at my ass, which is exactly what you were doing when you asked yourself that question, jackass.
I posit all people should wear pants this comfy, honestly. They’re dreamy.
I try to wear clothes that leave everything to the imagination because, honestly, I don’t want to see people raping me in my head. That’s right. I didn’t ask you to imagine my tits in your hands, boys. I didn’t ask you to imagine me on all fours, either. #Die. And no, I don’t think you raping me is a fucking compliment, either, because you never have my face in it. EVER. FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON.
These things make me cranky. A wet dream is different — that’s your subconscious trying to tell you to go for the girl (woman, actually.) You don’t really have control over that. But waking thoughts? She snarls!
And this is why the human race is being left behind. I gave telepathy to all the beings in outer space. God, in His/Her/Their ineffable and infallible wisdom left humanity out of this. We are irresponsible hoodlums that generally deserve to die. And many people are about to die. Not in droves, exactly, but the death rates will rise without an explanation. I know why, but I don’t care to enlighten anyone. You wouldn’t believe me anyway, I’m just crazy.
I guess I should be less RAWR. No, wait. I’m not RAWR enough. I will stand my ground: I do not deserve to be mind-raped because you are nothing more than a monkey.
You know what I learned about men in the past 18 months with all this shit in my head? I learned that everything boils down to anger issues with mommy or daddy and penis envy. They think that their penis size is more important than anything else about them, like their lack of ability to communicate (NICK), their lies (LUCIEN), their lies (BEN), their fake compliments (LUCIEN), their inability to recognize reality (EVERYONE)…
Jesus Fucking Christ, y’all. Let me tell you something important that might clean your clocks out:
The best sex I ever had was with the man with the smallest penis I’ve ever had sex with.
Let that settle in.
…
…
…
Smallest penis. Best sex.
…
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Small penis.
Best sex.
…
…
…
GOT IT? Now STFU about penises in my fucking head, you arrogant bastards. Your egos wouldn’t fit under the Arc de Triomphe.
Now, where was I? Your mommy issues are the opposite of sexy. Your daddy issues make you unlovable because you cannot love yourself.
FIX IT and try again.
Therapy. That’s how.
Everyone needs therapy, even therapists. Don’t fucking kid yourself that you are fucking perfect. That’s mythological and you know it. Perfect is a pretty sunset, the starry sky… anything natural that is not a human being. We’re fucking train wrecks in progress, every moment of every fucking day.
I’m mad because someone is raping me right now. (BEN.)
That guy… I haven’t even seen him in three years. WTF? What the literal fuck? He went no contact with me January 2020 as if I was the narcissistic asshole who couldn’t adapt, after trying to coerce me into sharing a woman with him on the regular when I’m MONOGAMOUS. If I wanted to fuck a lady, I’d date a fucking lady. And now? Now he’s raping me, endlessly. I seriously hope purging his ass will work.
Purge. A type of forced healing a la shamanism. Healing is good, right? I ask God to make sure it benefits The Greater Good(TM) since The Universe(TM)/God are responsible for doing the healing anyway.
As of Thanksgiving this year, we will be at the official 3 year mark of being no more. My goal is to get him out of my head by then, because he’s awful. He’s the one laughing at me all the time with a malicious slant. He hates me and everything I am, he treated me like garbage for years, then he tried to coerce me in some childish game to be someone I’m not just so he could fulfill his wildest fantasies. (Have that orgy with Jessie yet, BEN? Good luck with that one.)
What is it with boyish dreams of fucking All The Things(TM)? I don’t think it’s every boy’s dream, either, but I understand if it’s the dream of many at least early in life… but by the time you are 45 and barely had pussy, maybe you should start at step 1: GET AND KEEP A GIRLFRIEND.
You know what boils my blood the most about him? I suggested we go to Vegas and hit up a brothel to fulfill this childish fantasy. He said NO. You know why? Too much protection. You know what the inverse of that statement is? If it’s not risky, it’s not worth it.
Read it again.
If it’s not risky, it’s not worth it.
He said that to me — that he didn’t want to give oral to a sex worker because he’d have to use a dental dam or something like it to protect the sex worker from STDs. He “didn’t agree” with them having to get tested so often, either.
Typical white boy. “Nothing will ever touch me. I even speed and get away with it! I drive drunk and everything is fine!”
DIE. IN. A. FUCKING. FIRE. ASSHOLE.
God tells me he’s going to get herpes and AIDS. Those are kind of life-changing. I bet you he doesn’t even get tested and he has new partners without telling them. (Did you know it’s rape to have sex with someone and knowingly give them an STD without telling them?) (You’re welcome, my ladies and gents.) That’s another open-and-shut case, by the way. You’re not allowed to have sex knowing you have an STD.
Speaking on that topic, I should get tested again. I’ve been celibate for ages, but Dr. IMAET machine detected I had chlamydia at one point in 2020. God’s waiting for it to sterilize me to prove I still have it. (November! WOO!) Then I will go get my testing done and probably turn up negative because it’s actually BEN trying to project onto me what God told him would happen to him. (Thanks for playing along, Ben. — God.)
Still, I’d like to hold a clean bill of health in my hands, you know? I’d like to know for sure. I never participated in anything risky on purpose, but that doesn’t mean men haven’t subjected me to risk. (LUCIEN, YOU BASTARD, YOU RAPED ME.)
Did I mention somewhere I’ve been raped over 1,000 times? Turns out all the following reasons are rape:
- No afterglow cuddle.
- They were daydreaming I was someone else.
- They were not with me in the moment. Perhaps they were imagining a particularly fun time we had sex previously or playing Pong in their heads or thinking about football huddles.
- I was not with them in the moment. (My mind goes to worries and stuff, not other men, by the way.)
- I was in pain and not completely relaxed. (Or they were. You should be completely relaxed! SPEND THE FUCKING TIME!)
- It’s too fast for my brain to comprehend all the sensations.
- Not enough lubrication — you have no excuse if you’re doing foreplay right, ladies and gents.
- Unprotected sex when you know you are a risk factor.
- Lying to me in order to get in my bed (LUCIEN! BEN! #Die)
- Fantasizing about adding more people to the mix in order to get off. BEN.
I’m sure there are more, but you can certainly extrapolate from here. You’d have to be psychic or a mind reader to know, right? WRONG.
- Are they looking you in the eyes?
- Are you enjoying every moment? If you’re not smiling at the end, you’re doing it wrong.
- Are you being honest with your partner? If for any reason you sense some sort of hesitation, STOP or it’s rape to one or both of you.
- Are you being genuine? No? STOP, YOU RAPIST. Alternatively, are they insincere when they speak to you? Don’t lean on a fantasy, be real with yourself. Stop yourself from being raped, my friend.
- Are you going to call them afterward? NO? STOP, YOU RAPIST! Alternatively, you were raped if s/he never calls, ladies and gents.
- If for any reason your gut says no, just call it off. Even if you’re in the middle of it. It’s in your best interest, I promise. It doesn’t matter how fucking hot they are or how dry you’ve been or any of that. Just get out and save yourself, it’s not worth the damage to your psyche.
Thousands of dollars in psychotherapy tells me I’m right.
And so does God, actually.
So on a parallel nobody will follow me to easily, this also ties into meat consumption. We are raping animals by not asking for them to give us their lives for sustenance. What if we were part of the cosmic/galactic food chain and we were the food for predators in outer space? Wouldn’t they be more humane to ask us if we were ready to go? Wouldn’t it be a better place, if we knew it was happening and consented to it instead of being selected at random like a lottery to be slaughtered and consumed?
I’m not sorry.
Angel-Sansara 