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  1. the feeling that someone or something is unworthy of one’s consideration or respect; contempt.

Maybe this isn’t quite exactly the feeling I am immersed in. It could be disappointment, I suppose.

Is it too much to ask for a singular man to have interest in a singular lady?

Is it too much to ask for True Love(TM)?

I didn’t even ask for True Love, to my knowledge, and yet I’m on a stupid quest involving men. They aren’t really worthy of my time or attention. [Oops, see that disdain peeking out? Wave hello!] I mean, I am the Savior of All Kinds, after all. God has been exceedingly clear on that point. So why do we dilly dally on men?

Shouldn’t I be rescuing kittens out of trees, at the very least?

I did take fern leaves laden with spore and throw them in a shady spot in my yard in hopes of growing wild ferns. The fern leaves came from flower arrangements, which came with a body going into the ground. I disdain this ritual, actually! We bought a steel casket because it is cheaper than wood. STEEL! A non-renewable resource! We dug it out of the ground, we cast it into a final resting place for a bastard who didn’t deserve it, and then we put it in the fucking ground. I swear, one day, I am digging it up and selling it. The old man doesn’t need all that; he wants to be one with the Earth. But to be buried in a cemetery (instead of the back yard, as my mother wishfully pined) meant to buy a concrete chamber, a casket, and more.

I have to write thank you cards because my mother is incapable. She has become some sort of base animal that can’t even drag herself into the shower daily. It began before he died, so I imagine she’s dealing with the grief poorly.

I’m trying.

I’m also dying while trying.

I moved back home, daydreaming of being nursed back to health. Daydreams that weren’t even my own because I know better: these two people known as my parents are essentially slabs of meat without anything between the ears anymore. But it’s not exactly their fault. I know who to blame: the doctors. “Oh, eat a low fat diet! Limit your sodium!” Fat and sodium are necessities for LIFE.

And then they gave him a hand-out encouraging him to drink milk for extra protein.

We are allergic to dairy. The whole fam. I know this for sure now that he’s gone, having spit up blood the whole way while he was ceasing.

I cried in the kitchen while this happened, while the paramedics tried to bring him back to life. We only live two blocks from the fire department, so they were the very first of the first responders. They didn’t do anything they shouldn’t have. They did everything they had the power to do… but his heart stopped while they were trying to talk to him, after he sputtered blood for half an hour.

My parents tried to avoid the ambulance fee, or he might’ve been on life support the second his heart stopped… but instead they resuscitated him for 20 minutes. “Oh, he’s been 20 minutes without a heart beat. He won’t ever be the same.” Have you heard this shit yourself? It’s a lie. Although it’s true that brain damage can and will occur when an event like this happens, it’s not true that they can never be the same person again. This is a truth that God has revealed to me, both in personal testimony of a survivor of 30 minutes deprived of oxygen with zero brain damage and more. It’s on film, my friend! Netflix FTW.

Surviving Death series provides proof lack of oxygen not only factor in brain damage at death.

I stood there in his hospital room, keeping him stable even without oxygen assist, which they assured us he would die basically immediately after he was taken off the machine. He didn’t. I rubbed his feet and his temperature and vitals were on the rise. It wasn’t until it was clear my father would not accept me as the messiah that God took him. He refused to allow me my self-sovereignty. God’s terms were as follows:

Give the girl rule of the household (not your person, just the upkeep and maintenance responsibility) and you will live. There will be no brain damage because her reiki would fix it. It fixed hers, after all, from the incident where she was drowned. On purpose. BY YOU, RICHARD BURGESON. This is your final offer, take it or leave it.

He wanted to live so badly but he didn’t want to agree I was a grown up capable of taking care of the estate. All because he was afraid of me. I died many times in my youth and he was the reason. The cause. Yet, here I am, alive. I don’t personally remember dying, but God remembers everything for me. I don’t know how I deserve such an honor, but only God can decide that.

I bet you’re wondering why I pity a mortal to this degree. It’s not really pity. I love her for reasons of my own, reasons you wouldn’t understand even if I fully enumerated them, but let me give you the top five:

  1. She empathized with me. She realized how much it’s gotta suck to be hailed by a bunch of adults who don’t realize they’re adults and beg me to intervene on their behalf.
  2. She never cursed me once in her life. She loved me, instead, as “The Universe” because that’s all she could accept: an entity without passion or pity, an entity that just was.
  3. She never begged me to help her. I chose to because of that one mere fact alone, actually.
  4. She always tried to find a silver lining in everything and share it with others. She sowed seeds of hope at all times, even if she herself felt hopeless and miserable. She gave at the expense of herself at all times. The most selfless human being to ever exist, actually.
  5. She invented telepathy just because she hates noise. Ironic, since she listens to music 24/7, but that’s just it… she has to stop the music, her way to indirectly love all of humanity, to talk.

I mean, there are a hundred or two reasons to love Crystal Scordias, as anyone who knew her before she died this last time would tell you. Now she’s a new woman; I raised her all over again from scratch. Malnutrition and starvation took who she used to be and reduced her into the Angel of Love(TM). A woman who only wanted to live because she was hopelessly in love with a dickhead from England named Nicholas David Forsythe.

She objects to me using his middle name because he never told her that detail.

Fuck you, Nick. That’s all I have to say to you at this point. You were balls deep in another woman while she was trying to come back to life to marry your stupid ass. She begged you for help, she begged you to come cook something so she could keep her job. So I threw it all away and decided to make her the single most affluent woman on planet Earth. I hope you like dem apples. Especially since Claire just dumped you, two weeks shy of Valentine’s, which I knew was going to happen all along… so now you are stuck remembering Valentine’s alone, which means my girl is going to be on your mind.

She listened to Claire’s e-mail to you as you read it last night. Claire is a very effective communicator and she really appreciates that she has exposed all of Nick’s faults before he even thought to come back to her. Did I mention that Crystal is the most epic eavesdropper there ever was? It’s a good thing she vowed decades ago to use her powers for good. It’s why I keep giving her more, it’s why I keep increasing her abundance, it’s why I continue to build her up into the person who will take over the world. By direct democracy, actually.

Welcome to the New World Order, where your opinion actually counts, and so do your boundaries. (And the boundaries of ye old skunk, the bear over there, the badger in the woods, the dolphins in the sea, the fish in the river, and so on and so forth.) A world where you can choose to cease to exist when you are ready to, not because your body gives out in the most humiliating manner, such as spitting up blood and having a heart attack on top of it.

A world where you can throw yourself a final rites party, rubbing elbows with all your friends and family for the last time, delivering your post-life will to the group yourself. You can have a great Last Supper, eating whatever it is that makes you happiest. In Crystal’s case, it’s probably going to be ice cream. (She cries at me, “No! The cows are in pain giving up that milk! I will not eat that!”) [I meant faux ice cream, dear.] (Oh.)

All the baked goods and sweets you can think of, tons of great coffee (not burnt), and, of course, whatever else she has created that delights her taste buds. She hasn’t made every recipe yet, but she will. It’s part of the NWO (new world order.) That is to say, she’s going to create a food chain of delectable food stuffs that actually nourish your body, heart, and soul. At a price anyone can afford. And all profits go to cleaning up the rivers, the oceans, the rainforests, the forests. If that ever ceases to need assistance, she will then start buying land and restoring it to local natural habitat for animals. DEATH TO GRASS! we cry together!

Like, srsly, did you not know bees are endangered? If they die, humanity is dead. PLANT POLLINATOR PLANTS ALREADY.

All for what? To see miles of emerald green life, carefully cut far too short to be happy. Miserable little blades of plants that were never a dominant life form on this planet, but now is the most abundant plant ever. I’d rather you have mulched gardens, honestly, full of flowers, flowering shrubs, flowering trees. Fruit for the animals if not you. FEED THE FUCKING WORLD ALREADY.

That’s another thing she’ll be doing: in cities where she purchases land, she’ll be creating wild food gardens everywhere she can. Go pick it, but do remember this all comes at a cost. Donate to her Patreon, donate to a charity shop, donate directly to the Pacific Garbage Patch Cleanup. We don’t care where, just give. Give what you can because you are just as fucked as every other human being on planet Earth if that shit does not get cleaned up.

You might have seen unidentified flying objects as of late. That’s right. UFOs. Have you ever? This girl has personally seen something inexplicable and it goes like this:

She was lying in the grass in the ghetto, staring at the sky with her friends. In the early 80s, there was nothing better to do most of the time. That’s when she saw a strange shape in the sky. It appeared to be white. It was somewhat the same silhouette as a hot air balloon… except upside down.

Recreation of strangeness in the sky in the 80s.

This thing was perfectly unmoving in the sky for a good twenty minutes as she stared up at the sky. She’s not the only one who saw it, either. They were making themselves known to her, wouldn’t you know? Once they were certain she’d seen it, it disappeared by going straight in the opposite direction, disappearing like a balloon at what could be called “warp speed.” There was zero noise from it, which you’d expect from breaking the sound barrier quickly like that.

You could call her crazy and you most likely will… until they come down to see her. Just her. Screw the rest of you. She is the Intergalactic Ambassador of planet Earth (though they prefer Urth as the spelling.) In fact, she’s already begun her job… on the dark side of the moon.

I encouraged her to try spirit walking, something she hasn’t done in years now. She unmoored herself and allowed herself to drift, having no particular destination in mind, and then there she was, in pure darkness, having a telepathic conversation with the dark side of the moon. Mariana. If you watch Amazon Prime’s Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind, you’d know that “Buzz” encountered a creature on the moon, a creature that told him to go away, he thought. He had a menacing feeling from it, which they did intend. The audio is out there somewhere, according to Dr. Greer of Project Blue Book.

Or are they just having a conspiracy these days?

I know, skepticism is key, isn’t it? Right. Let us deny the reality of others so that we can stay “sane.” You’re all invalidating rapist bitches and you’re going to die. There, I said it. I hate you and I’m killing you. It’s already happening and you will not be able to stop it. I’m making it slow and humiliating, just like invalidation hurts others. This victim who said she is a victim is less of a victim than this bitch who figured out how to play the system around sexual harassment! Never mind she’s only a victim of her own stupid choices: dressing and acting like a whore. Only Brad Pitt is allowed to tell her she’s hot, y’all. But who is her Brad Pitt? The dude that has zero interest in her because he can see right through her, that’s who.

Eating broccoli for breakfast makes me a winner, right? she asks me randomly while chewing on charred broc.

Absolutely, baby.

But didn’t you know, char causes cancer?!?!

Nay, I think poison causes cancer. Such as smoking, sugar, gluten, and dairy.

Pesticides. Literal poison!

Herbicides, too.

This is my land, cried the white man, just before he sprayed a can of poison on a wasp’s nest. In the afterlife, he will be a wasp that will die that death ten trillion times.

I might still be angry after that, so we’ll play it by ear, mmkay?

Since none of you monkies are worthy of my daughter, I’ve promised her an intergalactic marriage. What do you think? There will be no ceremony because she has zero friends. And she’s frugal and practical and sensible and sees it as a complete fucking waste of resources. Why don’t y’all bring whatever you want to eat (say 35 servings) and make it a pot luck instead? She’s talking to all the people getting married at this moment, of course. If you really enjoy watching people stare at each other wearing clothes they’ll only wear at the altar (WASTEFUL), then by all means, bring them your favorite food in a crock pot and contribute. Any dress over $300 that will never be worn again by anyone is a crime. In fact, that number could be lower. All the flowers murdered for “your big day” will hang over your heads for life, especially if you just throw them in the garbage. If you should do something such as meticulously dry each and every flower and then use the petals in another project, you will at least be honoring the dead, which goes a big way with the Big Wig, wouldn’t you know?

I hate weddings. It’s the same, no matter what happens. Do you? Yes. Do you? Yes. KISS THE BRIDE. REJOICE.

If they were actually that short, I might like them better.

Maybe we should say KISS THE GROOM instead and make it the lady’s choice.

Did you know if you sit around daydreaming about a specific person, thinking about kissing and hugging and all the rest, without their permission, it’s rape?

I kinda know what’s what and I decided that a while ago.

Anyway, I’m going to let the darling child drink a hot coffee. Nice chattin’ with ya, mortals. Oh, and Bandanna Man, if you missed the lesson: It’s not cool. You earned her disdain. You’re pushing her back into auter space without anchor on planet Urth. I’m going to alter her course now. I think instead of flowers, we’ll just have a laser show for the wedding.

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