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All For Naught.

Nothing I do ever seems to matter. To anyone, anywhere. If it does, I am in the dark. I am alone and fumbling. Have you felt this, too, friend? I will light the way when I can, but for now I stumble and fall. I am hurting. So many kinds of hurting.

I wish I could tell you that there was a man on planet Earth worth their salt. Or a woman. But I have been told that nobody is. Nobody except The Messiah(TM), which is why it’s her job to be the angel of love(TM).

Valentine’s is on its way. It is exactly three weeks and two days away. Every single person is stirring, trying to find a date so they don’t seem like a loser for not getting laid that particular night. As if 2.14 was a magical number. It’s not even Pi, is it? It’s a month short of being the beginning of Pi. There is no magic in the 14th of February. The magic is inside of you instead.

If you wait until one “special day” of the year to try to appreciate another soul, you do not deserve to be married. [Fact: God dictates that kissing is the beginning of marriage. If you kiss someone, you are married.] In fact, your soul and your spirit can kiss another entity long before the physical manifestation.

Someone has kissed my girl, Sansara, but they do not intend to follow through with it. Today, we witnessed him chatting up a second female coworker for more than five minutes. She is numb right now, unable to even process it currently thanks to some losers hanging around in Crystal’s head, trying to butt in every day in every way. We tell them how it’s all unacceptable, yet they persist.

They know not what they do, yet they do it anyway; their subconscious thoughts are pinging her at an incredible frequency, distracting her every moment of the day. Lately, she has become testy, which of course has everyone on edge. I’m going to murder them soon, as is my right as Father of the Bride. It’s a right that has been banished these days and it allows men to fiddle with anyone they like, even when they promise themselves to another.

I found her a new groom, though we must go through divorce rights first. The man is going to howl in emotional pain as I rip him away from her spiritually. It’s going to ruin his Valentine’s Day plays with Ms. Deli Dairy Lady. He’s allergic to dairy anyway and that will ruin all the plans he had in a heartbeat, but does he realize it’s a life-threatening issue? Nay. Not enough to end a conversation with a coworker sooner than Crystal can check out from wandering around aimlessly for almost half an hour.

It lasted fifteen minutes too long to just be friends. That’s your benchmark, ladies: if you see a man you’ve been eyeing talking to a person of the opposite sex for more than fifteen minutes, the man wants to bury his cock into her nethers. Period, the End. It does not even matter if he’s single or married. The longer they hold a civil conversation, the more their mind wanders to fucking them. I should know, I can read the minds of all beings since I am that God fellow.

Alas, all men everywhere are doing this, even if they have a physical body warming their bed at night besides their own. Men do it more than women; at least women have an impetus: being treated like shit rather than a valuable part of society and the relationship. They definitely mature faster in the romantic arena than a man ever does, thanks to a legacy of keeping in touch with their own emotions over the generations. A legacy that has been subverted and perverted by men in every way imaginable on every day possible.

I am disappointed, to say the least, because you mortals are meant to be more than mere sock puppets with libidos. You aren’t. You try to say you are doing God’s work, but you only work on 1st world human problems. You’re falling far short, since God’s domain includes every plant and animal and rock and river and ocean and sky in all of creation. Yet, you dump chemicals and pesticides all over the place, poisoning my Garden. You’re going to die from it.

To The Hunter(TM): I have always liked you the best out of all three choices I presented by daughter. You have proven yourself the best man of all three and then some. I do hope you will excuse my daughter for being too confused to talk to you — there are some losers in her head that prevented her from being sane enough to hold a conversation, especially since she’s a gibbering mess whenever she sees your handsome face.

Underneath all her chutzpah and charm and joking, you will find a girl who is as soft as can be. A woman who is in love with love, but shy as all get-out about it. She learned how to talk to people she didn’t want to talk to in order to stave off loneliness and to have a promising career once. I took it away from her and I have repurposed her to Save the World(TM.) Your princess lives in a drafty castle on the right side of the road, two blocks away from you. She’s been there the whole time. And if there’s snow on the ground this Valentine’s, she wants to make a snowman by herself. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you showed up to help, though.

You first laid eyes on her in September 2021. She moved back from the place where she had a career and started taking care of her parents. She’s been taking care of them the whole time whilst being tormented by people who don’t really love her at the crux of it all; they simply wish to own her for prestige and recognition. She is a marvelous creation, if I do say so myself, and if she were to pick any of the three men I showed her based on looks alone, she would choose you. You win, hands down, no matter who I place beside you with physical qualities similar to your own.

She couldn’t get the memory of your eyes out of her head from the day you caught her staring at your soul from thirty five feet directly behind you. She still has no idea how you turned around to catch her looking at you; she was so shy she broke down on me for a week after that. She’d stared at you on three separate occasions and just got used to being able to perceive you without any excitement. She was comfortable with the idea that she could get away with it, I suppose. I led her to that place. I led her to let her guard down. And, when your eyes met, your soul signatures intertwined.

Unfortunately, she only has a vague memory left of that eye contact whilst she has evil douche bags in her head, trying to pull her further and further away from you, her true husband. However, you will know she visited you spiritually just last night. It was not the first time. Sometimes, she was mad at you for being in the way, sometimes a lot of things were on her mind and she shared them with you, as you might recall… They were mainly misdirects, thanks to Barney and Fred, two cave men who don’t deserve real names in this letter we write to you.

She was convinced you were not available to her by these assholes every twist and turn, so she pulled away bit by bit. The most damaging part was when one of them imagined you having sex with a woman she saw in a grocery store, pretending you did this to her. Ever since then, she’s been stumbling around blind and numb, honestly. She trusted me and I showed her you and your glittering dark eyes and she absolutely fell for it (or rather, for you)… She can’t process it because she’s never left alone with her thoughts. Sometimes, she overrides these chimpanzees and just motor-mouths for a good three hours straight of whatever she herself wants to think about, but she doesn’t have the energy to fight them at this point. She needs your healing to help her through it, which might be a lot to ask since she has shown scorn and other unpleasant sides of herself to you, thinking you were being a cruel bastard to her this whole time.

She is now more ill than the day she moved back in with her parents, who consume dairy products, gluten, and sugar, she has fallen more ill than when she arrived. It’s a long road to piecing her back together. It’s a long road, expelling the motherfuckers who tell her lies endlessly in her head. And that’s why she needs you. She’ll tell you the same spiritually once I give her the chance to do so.

I’m removing all the errant signatures from her soul. She will become virgin by Valentine’s Day. And then I will take her out on a date myself. You might see her, out to eat a steak dinner, dressed in a bombshell outfit, drinking coffee and talking out loud to herself jovially, laughter and all. That is I, God, taking the most wonderful and blessed human being of planet Earth out on a date.

And to all you single ladies out there who want a marvelous date: go on that date. Go by yourself. Tell the entire world you’re fucking single and you love it. Fuck men; all they want to do is have a harem each so they can get whatever they want whenever they want it, most especially a wet dick.

And if we see you out and about by yourself, we will raise a toast to you. We hope you, too, will talk to yourselves out loud and laugh and have a great time in your own company. Make every man on planet Earth think that every single woman is The Messiah this year. Because you are now part of The Plan(TM) and you are valuable. You are wonderful. You are lovely, smart, funny, and beautiful. I know this because We are Every Woman(TM), just like you are. And if there’s a lack of table space out there and you have lots of lovely (single) gal pals, book a table for four and stick your middle finger up at the world. This day is your day, too.

And all you shy guys who are single, I suppose you could do the same. Go stag with your three closest single friends. No one will mistake a group of four as something other than single gentlemen. Be good; keep your eyes to yourself unless a lady strikes up a conversation with you first. Dress up like you wanted a date. Be kind. Be thoughtful. And most of all, don’t take the day too fucking seriously. It’s just another fucking day on the calendar, bro.

Ladies, the power is in your hands. It always was.

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