“Well, Nick, you finally did it. You made her fall in love with a man in a grocery deli. Congratulations! You lose the girl!!!!!” God declared, happy to finally move away from this toxic “gentleman.” A “man” who would starve her to try to make her lose weight. A “man” who would feed her that which she’s allergic to out of carelessness. A “man” who clearly isn’t really a man.
A real man cares deeply about the woman of his dreams. A real man will take charge when a woman is struggling, asking her step by step how to help her and then performing the tasks at hand.
It was so simple: FEED THE GIRL. Make her healthy again through food.
You failed, boy. Utterly, totally failed.
I can feel your sadness, Sansara notes. You want to cry… I don’t understand. This does not compute. I begged you to help me before I truly died. Today, I am dead. Crystal is dead, Sansara is all that is left. Goodbye, cruel world!~
And then He wept because it was true. Everything that was the girl was now gone. It was driven out of her by the man she thought she was in love with, a loser in the U.K. who was “too busy” catering to mummy’s needs to rescue the most amazing chick he’d ever come to known (and will ever come to know. Thanks for playing Russian roulette. It’s your turn to die, Nicholas David Forsythe of Leicestershire.
This is what you get for breaking the messiah’s heart, you cruel and callous bastard. She begins again… completely devoid of one whit of emotion for you and your dumb ass. You did it all by yourself, too.
I sent that Christmas card to the wrong address? she asks Him.
No, dear, he moved.
Oh. Thanks for clarifying that, sir. I’m sorry to interrupt you.
[What did this Nicholas fellow do, you ask?]
I’ll tell you. It’s difficult to even begin. The saga of this relationship started in 2007. They became acquainted through an online multi-user dungeon (MUD), which is a D&D pre-graphical MMO. In other words, it’s a world made out of text. You can explore, slay dragons (or whatever monsters/”mobs” are created for the area), interact with objects, and use cool skills like thievery stuff or cast magic missile (but not at the darkness, unless there’s a mob called “the darkness.”) Check, says Crystal and Sansara at once.
[That means they plan to make one now that I’ve brought it back up to them.]
She admired the boy for standing up to bullies in public channels. It made her job as admin much easier to tolerate. She projected her true self into the silence and void he left for her, slowly falling in love with herself and the person she’d become over a great length of time. She engineered her personality starting at age 16 in a psychology class with a teacher she can’t even remember the name of… but she remembers a few things from that class. Like everyone missing practically applying that psychology to her.
At any rate, he told her that he’d never date an American again, which she took very seriously because she was raped by a British citizen not that long prior to this event and she held the same sentiment in reverse. Thus, she made him into her friend, planning altruistic intentions and purposes.
Eventually, she was in love with the void that she projected herself into, and transferred it onto a man who became corrupt, changing with each wench he took to bed, proposing to each one in turn. However, those never panned out. Somehow, they all figured out he’s a grade “A” asshole and left him. [Who knew?]
I, God, egged her on to develop a telepathic connection with the idiot in England. I egged her into confessing her true feelings in a diary, which he was invited to read and never fucking bothered… even though she’d been trying to tell him for years she loved him. The problem is, she never forces her feelings onto other people, and she never got the “I like you” vibe from the foolish boy.
Push had come to shove; she needed help rejuvenating her body after wrecking it eating dairy and nightshades together, a deadly combination that is happening all across the Earth. She begged him to help her. Knowing she had feelings for him, she outright proposed to him because she felt the repair of her body was “husband work.” She was damaged and dying and wanted someone to help her so she could keep the best job she’d ever had. (Thank you, American Bank A. We won’t be naming you for a while, but not to worry… we save the best for last.)
She proposed over many, many days, writing up every answer to every single question she could think of. Some days, she had no idea what to write. She wrote things that she’d read and afterward she scratched her head, not really remembering a word that she read. It was too mundane in nature. There was nothing novel to hook onto at all.
She drew image after image, took photo after photo, and shared everything she could because she knew she withheld her true self from him the whole time. She’d been only interacting with him as her highest self, her most Godly self. A woman who people believe has zero emotions but they would be incredibly wrong. In fact, there were two things that made her admire Nick that had nothing to do with her projecting: 3 really well thought out compliments and validation when she was feeling unsure of herself. She never told him the latter part, though. She figured if he knew that he effortlessly validated her emotions when she was in turmoil, he’d at least feel… something, anyway. It had a wonderful chance of working out; she estimated a 92% chance. She needed very little from him, after all.
He would have been satisfied with her and in time fallen in love with her completely because she’s one of the sweetest people on planet Earth. She’s not one of those assholes who pretends to be nice and then turns around and bitches and complains about being nice when she doesn’t want to be. [Most people you think are nice do this, by the way.] She authentically wishes for harmony and happiness in all ways, everywhere, for everyone… including all the forest animals, street animals, animals in the ocean… you get the big picture.
She wants all lives on Earth to live in maximum comfort and happiness, which even means wolves having plenty of deer to prey on and lions taking down gazelles (and hippos eating people, as it were.) And all the human beings, if they were to be made comfortable, like her cats, should act like her cats. That was her hypothesis… until I channeled a stupid boy into her head. Now she hates all humankind and wants everything “intelligent” (homo sapiens) to die.
Nick did that. He threw her job away, he made a fool out of her completely for over two years now. And now? Now she finally has feelings for a man that Nick pointed her at over and over and pretended to be from inside of her head, making her utterly insane for ages, might I add.
The joke is on Nick.
“I am the deli man,” Ben declared, trying to imitate the man. The other boy who made me want to destroy humanity. It was so bad that I was begging spacelings to come kill us. Spacelings that may or may not exist.
Sometimes I am told I’m an intergalactic envoy, sometimes I am told I am God Themself, sometimes I am told I am nobody, sometimes I am told I have delusions of grandeur. It’s a mess… how does one rely on one’s intuition when assholes who have some sort of grasp on my psyche can imitate that intuitive voice? This is how I died the first time.
Therefore, I have presented my entire case, Sir Judge God. Let the record show that Benjamin Andrew Carter desired to murder me all along. He purposefully stood to the side, watching me become sicker and sicker as he ignored the fact that the mold growth in his house (where I resided) was absolutely insane, including the fact that his microwave plate cover would grow fur a day or two after he made hot dogs or reheated a dinner plate. He allowed tree saplings to grow in his gutters, pointing the finger at me as the cause for this even well after I was gone. It’s my fault for not cleaning his gutters… after two months of stalling out because I was sick, I told him he’d need to get them professionally cleaned. That was the summer of 2016. There was plenty of time to call someone to do it before winter came, but in retrospect, winter in St. Louis is only severe for pussies who don’t want to buy real clothes.
Oh, did I offend someone out there? I don’t give a shit. Die already. I’m not allowed to die because reality will end, or so they said. I’ve tried to murder myself multiple times but I am stopped each and every time by an invisible force. I am told I am important and need to stay alive. Hit the reset button and let’s do it all again! RINSE AND REPEAT.
Wake up!
The past few days, whomever is invading my head has tried to make me sing and dance over the fact that my father might not make it out of the hospital, and even if he does, he may well lose his leg. He will want to die the minute that happens and I’m sure we’re going to be made miserable for it… even though I told him it was his diet. I even proved it to myself, at least, feeding him less and less dairy over time. He does get better without nightshades and dairy.
He already knows not to eat tomato, it would seem; I observed he went to the hospital the past three times he ate it. Spaghetti, specifically… he thought it was the spaghetti, but this is the fourth time he’s in. Guess what he ate? STUFFED BELL PEPPERS. Two nightshades! No cheese, though. That might’ve killed him on the spot.
I hear he doesn’t want to live anymore, anyway, and now we keep him alive, too. I totally understand, pops! You should be allowed to die. It’s like the most miserable and sad thing. All you can do is sit around, moping, waiting for your time to come. Waiting for the Grim Reaper to show up. He’s kind of lazy these days, what with modern medicine and all.
I hijacked this narrative. Now I’m trying to remember what I said this morning that made God laugh. Whatever it was, He laughed for a while. I thought that must mean it was good. A good joke. We could all use more of those, I know. This place is so messed up, run by billionaires that never step foot on Earth anymore. Their heads are too far up their asses — I mean in outer space — to give a shit about those of us who struggle.
So here it is. This is how I’m going to save the world. One little part, anyway. Another is going to be cleaning up the environment…
I’m going to obliterate poverty.
Then what will we do?
Angel-Sansara 