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Asshole Tax

The man with grey eyes is on my brain today. After at least one week of reprieve, I am now hearing him all over again inside my mind. I wish the things I heard were reality, but I’m sure they’re not. Why would a man I’ve never held a conversation with think about me? Especially when he no longer seems to be employed at the place which I frequent.

I’m just confused, I know.

Here’s why:

  1. I don’t think of him or anyone when I’m alone. I watch shows, clean, and think about my cats, make food for the fam.
  2. Memories pop up unbidden in the middle of watching television shows, movies, window shopping online, and so on. There are someone’s eyes on me all the time, it seems like.
  3. I don’t like fantasy, I like facts… I would never make up shit someone else is thinking just to glorify myself. I know I am a useless, ordinary human being and it doesn’t particularly bother me. Except the part where God won’t let me die.
  4. I don’t argue with myself about liking someone. I either do or I don’t. I don’t have discussions about it.
  5. I don’t guess what the future brings. I determine the potential futures of this particular moment and I choose one.
  6. I don’t make up likes/dislikes for people. See #3.
  7. I don’t think anyone anywhere gives a shit about me.

So why is he on my brain all fucking day today? I want to stab the culprit in the breast, one swift and agonizing stroke that bleeds them out quickly. I want it to cease. I want the fantasizing to stop.

You’d think if it was my brain doing it, we’d just stop.

Now, if it is that man thinking about me, all is forgiven, but I don’t trust it. I have these creature voices in my head that I call The Loki. Misleading bullshit that keeps me from piercing the target in the very centre every time I am close to striking. Interpret that however you will; I mean to say, I create a plan of what I wish to do in my head and then try to execute it.

For example, I’ve gone to the store in the past, intent on doing the easiest thing I could to share a modicum of being interested in that man… a smile. I planned to smile. Nefarious, right? Then, some asshole attacks me on the way to the store, putting me in the foulest mood, making me scream and scowl in the car to mar it. To prevent it. To make sure I don’t do it. Then, by the time I see him, I’m talked out of wanting to smile at him.

I call that one Nicholas Forsythe of Leicestershire, England. I murder him daily in my imagination, hoping he can feel it. He begins a new battle each and every day. “Sigh. I miss talking to her.” And then, because I don’t care about him anymore, he starts getting jealous and envious and stupid, attacking me until I have feelings about his stupidity and narrow-minded foolishness. I can tell you right now that the Nick in my head is nothing like the Nick that used to be in my heart!

I foolishly attempted to psychically connect to this douche bag, thinking he was a nice guy. Nope. He’s a womanizer, a cheater, and a scoundrel. He flirted with me for a decade and then, in the middle of it, randomly, told me once: I’m engaged! <– The one and only exclamation mark this man ever used in written communique. I died.

No, literally. I died.

The person who I used to be is no more. All because that asshole flirted with me while married in his heart to some other woman. Liz, as far as I know, because that’s the name of the woman he spoke to me a few years after that, once I’d distanced myself appropriately from him and his love. I hurt myself carrying on a friendship with that lout. And then what? I was dying in 2020, while he was single, but he wasn’t trying to actually court me or woo me. (Oh, did you date him in 2020? Guess what? He asked me if I wanted children in spring and then he suggested we meet in October. If this coincided with your relationship, dear woman, you were raped.)

God tells me, as I sip my roasted dandelion root tea, which is a pleasantly spicy and herbal taste to me today but the last time I had it was utter crap, that he only ever flirted with me while he was with another woman.

Ladies, I apologize now. I never knew. He never, ever mentioned anyone but a Liz to me and I believe that was 2018. I did not throw myself at him. Around December of 2018, 2019, and 2020, I tried to explain I loved him. However, it was not a romantic declaration of love. You could only call it that if you were hoping it to be one, at least not until I thought for sure he was single in 2020.

I begged him to come help me not die in early 2021 and since I knew my heart well enough, I proposed to him. I’m sorry if this coincided with some other arrangement for I did not know. I had no idea, no inkling, no insight. He was asking me marriage and meetup questions, how could I know? I thought he was a noble man… but God has disabused me of this notion, which is why we began therapy right then and there.

I got the proposal out of my system. The whole time, he was angry at me for not answering in October about meeting on American or UK soil. I was dying, unable to eat anything but apples and pears, which I explained to him in a million word letter that I wrote in my diary. I drew 120 images to try to communicate everything I could to go along with those million words and even put it to music so it wouldn’t be incredibly spammy. He never replied, not even to my OBVIOUS MARRIAGE PROPOSAL VIDEO ON FEBRUARY 14, 2021.

After that and the million words, God decided I’d done enough explaining and ripped me away from that feeling, fooling me into thinking I had telepathy with Nick. That went on for ages; we even planned a wedding together. [Lady, you should open up every IM in his Discord. You’ll find one full of links and images of me. Asshole even kept all the evidence.] In fact, I started a video call with the bastard because he’d convinced me (on my side of reality) that he was going to prove to his friends we were psychically linked by doing yoga in tandem with me without a single audio cue from two different countries.

God made me feel uncomfortable, telling me someone was watching me on camera that wasn’t supposed to be there, so I sat in a modified child pose on the floor, chanting inside my head how I wanted to be alone with that fool. The internet cut out after the fifteenth time I said it. The video call ended. Later, I learned it was his girlfriend, whom he told me was his friend’s sister. That’s not how you introduce your fucking girlfriend, bonehead. I can’t even remember how many times we started writing a smutty romance novel and he kept interjecting some gym rat bimbo named Bella, trying to have two women. I’m completely monogamous, tyvm, no deal.

I had to reboot my modem to get back online for work, actually. I had zero internet troubles prior to that point, but occasionally after that, the internet would cut out entirely here and there, so maybe it’s just a coincidence. I’m not convinced it is; I am fairly certain that God can wreak havoc on our communication systems at will. In fact, he hates 5G and 4G because it is poisoning the air waves for the animals (and us, but screw humanity, we dug the grave we’re going to lie in.)

Then, God convinced me Nicholas was going to fly to the States no fewer than five times in 2021. Each time, it drove me further away from trusting him as lie after lie was uncovered. I am embarrassed, really, but not as embarrassed I am about the idea that I distracted him from a woman he’d committed to. I’m always on the side of love. In fact, God calls me his little angel of love because of this. I love love. No matter if it’s for me or not. I respect the union of two people because I want other people to respect my future union.

However, the Loki I call Nicholas does not respect my future union with Wolf Eyes. I want to murder him again and again. It’s been over for longer than one year and nine months, you asshole. STOP THINKING ABOUT BANGING ME. Why the fuck are you feeling lonely now? Did your dumb ass get dumped again? Get the fuck away from me or I’ll be forced to come up with a psychic attack you will regret.

Or at least die trying.

A lesser me would be smashing herself in the head, frustrated beyond belief. I did that many times, thanks to the Nick Loki hanging around. He rises up to try to drive me away from Wolf Eyes every time. In fact, look at who we’re talking about right now instead of the man I’m curious about? Narcissistic CREEP! I will call God’s Fire down on you any day now! Angels were never meant to be pacifists and you have cured me of my desire to be a pacifist, so prepare for real war, bitch!

My sword is not yet on fire, but give me time.

I hurt myself no fewer than fifteen times over this asshole tormenting me endlessly. “Let me control you and make you this way or that way instead of the way you actually are. It’s the only way I’ll love you.” That isn’t love, lady friend. That’s hatred. He’s making you contort into a pretzel shape and it hurts. I know it hurts, I have been there so many times. He’s confusing dominance with control. Most people do, sadly.

I will disabuse you of these notions, denizens of Urth. Yeah, I know, shake your head and tsk just because you don’t know how to spell it. God said it’s spelled with a U, get over it. Or die, meet your maker, and argue with Him then, right before He toasts your ass in Hell for being a shitty person. You think it’s funny now, but just wait. [Doesn’t she know that threat was so last century?] She does, actually. She hates me telling her to use it.

Wow, you got this far, spaceling. Congratulations! You’re not dead yet! We’re so proud of you. Now go clean up that fucking ocean before we come and do it for you… and I guarantee you that you won’t like it because we’ll destroy at least 7 billion of you idiots. [Donate here.]

What’s wrong? Don’t know what’s going on? Neither does she. Now you’re starting to truly get to a point where you might empathize with her. Maybe you’re not… but you’ll be joining her shortly, receiving our brain waves inside your own brains. We used her brain to understand what will kill you and what won’t. She volunteered to be the first test subject after begging us to kill you all indiscriminately. We determined, fortunately for you, that a few of you get to live. About 2.2 billion of you, to be more exact. I guess those fancy little cities of yours will soon be much smaller. Many things will be destroyed if we don’t swoop in and help you recycle them, so I suppose all those sky rises in Manhattan are going to get recycled. We hate you for building them to begin with instead of simply murdering more of yourselves and limiting your population as would be responsible as a truly enlightened species, leaving room for your furry, scaly, and leathery skinned neighbors.


I can tell you until I’m blue in the face, as y’all put it, but it’s never going to change anything. Perhaps Elon Musk dying within 60 days is going to wake you up. I’m predicting it right now because I’m the one who’s going to kill him.

Me, God. A guy in the sky. The Supreme Being of Righteousness.

I told him to fix Solar City to stop killing things. He’s not going to because he’s a psychopath. His one and only mission is to rinse and repeat the rape of Gaia on Mars. Why not Venus? Because it has a little bit of a mess to clean up from the last time you set foot on it? It’s a lot closer to this planet, you know. And you absolutely have the technology to fix it up. And it absolutely has water that’s not even frozen. And maybe even life where you’d least expect it. In fact, Sansara is there. The real Sansara. The woman who started this diary with Crystal, her mental host on Urth. Our host. The Lord of Hosts. Or, if you prefer, we can keep spelling it as Earth, but you’re calling Gaia dirt when you do that and I protest. It’s unrighteous.

Tesla will crash and burn the moment Musk dies. As much as you all watch him do stuff and yammer and yaw about how horrible he is, he’s a genius that has you in his shirt pocket. All of you. I love him despite his learning disability: his lack of empathy.

SpaceX will no longer exist after selling out, going public, and nothing great getting done. In fact, you will not be reaching the stars without my blessing. Do you think I’m going to let you destroy another planet? You’ve destroyed two. I’m going to break my own mold… I’ve decided that you human beings are too stupid for fifteen chances and I agree with my Super Scientist Crystal now: three strikes and you’re out. I punish you each and every time you repeat that same mistake. In this specific case, I’m being preemptive because I know what you will do once you get to Mars. Terraforming, rape, rape, rape, rape. When the sun expands, Mars will explode with its own life if you just leave it the fuck alone, children.

Empirical evidence shows me that the odds of you learning anything if I give you more than five chances to learn from your life situations is very low. You’re all too thick to learn from the pattern of reality that exists all around you. And Crystal? The woman who has an average intellect? She broke the code. She can bend reality to her every whim.

It’s a good thing for all of you all that she wants is a clean Gaia covered in forests. And true love. And to be kept like a little kitten.

Her version of keeping a cat, mind you. She’ll get cried at by a cat and go through every single thing her cats might want to try to pacify them: scooping litter again, feeding them treats, giving them catnip, chin scritches, holding them and walking them around for thirty minutes, sitting down even though she was cleaning and giving them a lap. The rest of you are basically monsters. You don’t even look your pets in the eyes. You keep them alive well past their prime when they’d be better off dying around age 12. Here’s a novel idea: how about you stop caging animals and convincing yourselves that they’re happy eating out of your civilized dishes? 99% of all animals on planet Urth are unhappy. The other 1% are newborns.

I trained Crystal all over again and I’ve deleted her desire to keep pets. She wants to, instead, turn a house into a cat house by adding cat flaps and putting out fresh water and mouse food. The only reason you hurting and suffering fools want pets is that you’ve been raped and you lack the language to communicate it effectively. YOU WERE RAPED. Now, you rape little animals, pretending it’s a kindness, a favor, a blessing. Fuck you all.

All of you who have pets and kids, you’re dying soon. Children traumatize pets. Period, the end. You raped the children, bulldozing their boundaries because you’re the adult! Euthanize one or the other and get it over with. You veterinarians pretending to give a shit by having some little farm you can tote all these traumatized animals to in order to force them to live together: you die. You veterinarians that lost your hearts when you got bit one too many times: you die. Anyone who strikes animals: you die. Anyone who runs over animals: you die. See a pattern yet? Remember that whole “the meek shall inherit the Urth” thing? Anyone who kills my goddamn bees DIES. And those of you who do it with a smile? You’ll see later. I won’t bother explaining. 🙂

I might forgive you a tiny shred of all the terrible things you’ve done if you focus all the ill will in your heart on the man torturing my daughter: Nicholas Forsythe of Leicestershire, England.

— God

You done, bro? Crystal asks God. There is no response, so it must be true.

This happens to me all day, every day. I’ll be off in La La Land, thinking about how we could clean up Venus and go there instead of Mars or the show I just binge watched 2-3 episodes of or even a novel I’m reading or so many ideas. I haven’t been able to spend time solo in forever so I have no good examples anymore. I am never alone. Ever. Not even when I’m physically nowhere near another human being.

I’ve tried to murder myself because the only time I’m at peace is when I’m truly alone. I’m not allowed to do that because I’m the messenger. I don’t want this job. Someone else, quick, die of starvation and malnutrition so he can attack you instead of me! No takers? Damn.

There are reasons I know God exists, though. It’s not just a random voice in my head. He knows the future, for one thing, by knowing everything about the present probably… but still!

Do you think I just randomly desire a shower at 2:00 pm when my comfort level never changed and then he takes his sweet ol’ time getting me my ritual wake up coffee, taking care of me until I roll into the grocery store a couple hours later, completely unsuspecting until I come eye to eye with Wolf Eyes, the Grey-Eyed Deli Man? That man doesn’t even know where he’ll be from moment to moment, yet somehow I have made eye contact with him over 15 times. Many of them were days and days in a row, too. What are the fucking odds? I ran into him/crossed his path 5 times minimum in the last few weeks before he stopped being there.

But it’s more than that, okay?

God gives me physical therapy. (And psychotherapy.)

By the time he’s finished giving me physical therapy, I will no longer be an invalid. My T5 and L4 vertebrae were subluxated, my hip bones were displaced, and my left ankle/knee/hip were failing to line up. We’re close to fixing all this and one more thing:

There’s an x-ray of my neck proving it was straight about fifteen years ago. It’s no longer straight. In fact, my chiropractor will likely proclaim this to be a miracle.

I have proof he fixed me if I get one more x-ray.

But do you want it? Hell no. That means He’s real. That means his message is real. That means what I’ve said in this diary is real. It also means you’re reincarnated over and over again, which you can find out more about in past life regression therapy. If you don’t believe, don’t waste your money. Those of you who do: go on, go see a hypnotist. Not believing means resisting the therapy and it fails. Period, the end. [I picked this up from God, I guess.]

He doesn’t actually want a cult of sheep going through the motions for the sake of escaping Hell. He doesn’t want to be worshiped at all. He doesn’t give a shit if you tithed your entire life to a House of God. You are worshiping Ba’al when you attend any facility with a crucifix. They pulled a switcheroo and they even put it in the Bible and you missed it. It’s in Samuel.

Samuel 1:3: …And the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, the priests of the LORD, were there. [So Eli’s sons are priests of the LORD! Spelled out 100% here.]
Samuel 1:11: …the child did minister unto the LORD before Eli the priest. [Priest of what? it does NOT specifically say priest of God where it does otherwise.]
Samuel 2:12: …the sons of Eli were the sons of Belial [Wiki]; they knew not the LORD. [It is unclear if Eli knows the Lord or not. There is nothing declaring Eli as a priest of the LORD directly. Plus, we’ve just destroyed the integrity of Samuel 1:3.]
Samuel 2:13-2:16 are about animal sacrifices, which God never asked for. He asked us to sacrifice our lesser crops for the beasts and the birds.
Samuel 2:22: Now Eli was very old, and heard all that his sons did unto all Israel; and how they lay with the women that assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation.
Samuel 2:24: …ye make the LORD’S people to transgress. [As in, not my people.]
Samuel 2:27: …a man of God [came] unto Eli…
Samuel 2:29: Wherefore kick ye at my sacrifice and at mine offering, which I have commanded in my habitation; and honourest thy sons above me, to make yourselves fat with the chiefest of all the offerings of Israel, my people? [it continues through to Samuel 2:36, where God warns Eli that his temple will be burnt to the ground and his family will be slain for failing to be Godly.]

Perhaps I misread it, but is this not contradictory at the very least, that Eli’s sons are first declared priests and then sons of Belial and ultimately awful, sinful things? (Belial, Ba’al, Bel, and Belus are the same entity, according to what God told me.)

P.S. We’re both disgusted to read Elkanah had two wives. Partly because he didn’t… his brother’s wife and kids were under his roof (Peninnah.) It was customary to take care of women within your own household (they were called wives, apparently, whether or not you were wed) should your siblings pass away and leave behind a brood. It was a farming community, who can say no to extra farm hands?

According to God, Samuel is Hannah’s only child, thank you very much. “All this breeder bullshit in the Bible is heinous.” Not to mention the constant polygamy and misogyny. It’s almost like this is the birth place of the iniquity which is spoken about all within the text!

No wonder most Christians are massive hypocrites.

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