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Nobody’s Good Because I Am Not Good

A Spotify link to Burn the Ships, a song by for KING & COUNTRY.

My cat is using my “pleasantly plump” belly as a pillow. D’awwwwww.

Every so often, I gain some insight into humanity. It peeks through here or there. I believe I am to the point that improper logic is worse than having no logic. It’s how one arrives to a statement such as “Nobody’s good because I am not good.”

We are all flawed. We are born that way. It is part of our immortal struggle. I have something to tell you that will blow your mind:

You don’t have to stay that way.

I grew up, the daughter of a narcissist with schizophrenia paranoia and delusions of grandeur, a Viet Nam war vet with serious chemical sensitivities. I was faced with so much that normal people do not have to deal with. Then, throw in a heaping pile of steaming P.T.S.D. for that poor man and you have a recipe for disaster. He was exposed to Agent Orange, which makes me believe his lung issues (aside from smoking) came from the war. (No, I don’t want any government money for this realization, just to spread awareness of the potentiality of Agent Orange’s role in chemical sensitivity.)

He was also a sex addict with very few ideas of what ordinary boundaries were, possibly thanks to boot camp on top of his schizophrenia. God tells me he expressed this serious illness before the war came, before he was drafted to serve.

I hope Uncle Sam is proud of himself for forcing mentally ill people to shoot Vietnamese children.

I’m a telepath, my friend!


My life is on pause still and it’s agitating me. I’m starting to get restless… and perhaps a little scurvy. Fun fact: strawberries stave off scurvy! I don’t want any more strawberries, but I want a strawberry patch. I’ve been throwing the hulls and what little is left attached to them into the shadiest part of my yard. It’s bound to work, you know! At least one of those seeds will germinate! Unless, of course, they are somehow genetically engineered to fail to grow from seed. (How stupid are we? Let me just fix this food so it never grows back and eradicate the food that does. NOTHING WILL HAPPEN TO THE MASTER SOURCE, I ASSURE YOU!)

God is laughing at genetic engineers right now, plotting to end the world.

He told me last year the world was going to end and I had to have a garden so I could eat, but he might’ve meant my world alone. He’s vague like that. I told him I’m sorry we ruined it for the rest of life on the planet. And he cries every time something like that happens. (Or she… or they… God is quite facetious. Multi-faceted, that is.)

I seem to have almost recovered from mold poisoning / toxicity + extreme leaky gut syndrome + whatever else ailed me. No doctors in sight; those bastards killed me to begin with. Fucking diet bull shit. JUST EAT, YOU NINCOMPOOPS.

I know why we gain weight, but you won’t like knowing the reason. There are about twenty reasons, really, and they are all interconnected, and they suck when the whole system fails and you can barely move anymore. It’s one part vibrations, one part suboptimal unripened produce being picked weeks in advance to sit on a fucking shelf until it looks goodly to you, one part lack of minerals in the soil that’s grown in (or the hydroponics setup — let’s be real), and then of course the wind never brushes against it, the sun never kisses it directly, and it’s covered in poison to kill everything — literally everything — in creation.

I call it creation, but not because of God. It was created. By the Big Bang. Maybe God is the Big Bang and that’s why we can’t figure out why it happened at all? Hm. Anyway, I’m not here to convince you God is God. I’m here to tell you we’re killing ourselves, one step at a time, with insane choices just to keep our planet far overpopulated beyond our wildest dreams.

So just kill yourselves already. I’m not allowed to.

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