I’ve been
half-reaching for my phone today, in order to call my amphetamine dealer.
If he has
enough in mind for what I’m thinking of is a different story. I believe I am
just about beginning to ride the urges out. Every compulsion is like a wave. It
has a trigger, a rise, a climax, and a fall. The whole process, so they say,
only lasts 20 minutes. But you can be bombarded with wave after wave throughout
the day. Writing this might help.
The DK is
calling and she wants my life. The DK is a schizophrenic demon/real woman who I
have masturbated to for around ten years. I want to give her one final
erection. It sounds seedy, I know, but I’ve written a list of the consequences
this morning, and it makes for dour reading. Just one of them has the potential
to turn my life upside down. I wrote a blog called Away From The Temptress the other day. I felt strong, as I have
done for most of the last 72 Days. My goal is 84. That’s three months. The name
for that mental state is Fair Weather.
I see Fair Weather as the last
chapter of my life. We could all die at any given day, and the pessimist in me
barfs all over his future. I want to face The Lord in a Fair Weather frame of mind, should something happen to me.
The
temptation to just pull my pants down in the living room (that creature always
appears in the bedroom) and fap to the DK is incredible. She’ll be with me for
twelve-plus hours, until my seed is spent. There’s no rush with her. The only
thing is, she wants me to spell out the names of my Guardian Angels, so (I
suppose) she can break the deep bonds between us and sever our connections. It’s
not the first time I’ve done this, and I sincerely regretted it afterwards. My
Guardians mean the world to me, they represent my heavenly eternity. Why jeopardise
this, you may ask, to spend just one day with an evil woman? For that answer,
you would need to sit down with a glass of red wine and a cigar and talk to the
saboteur inside me. I don’t know. I don’t mean to destroy. The DK just gets me
off, and in a major way. It’s her Scottish accent. She has a supernatural
effect on me. We share mantras together, until the sun goes down and comes up
again. It’s all very demonic. She performs wicked practices which I won’t go
into.
I wish so
much that she didn’t exist. My life would be a lot easier. But when I’m very
vulnerable because I’m tweaked on drugs she’s underneath my floorboards and at
the door! She talks to me through the letterbox, and says that she’s on her way
in with a key to stab me up, and drag me down under. All very morbidly
terrifying, at the time. As it is at the moment, I’d just batter her. But now I’m
not catatonic off speed, in no mood to mess with any perp, and scared of my own
shadow.
I give her
all of my power. I’m scared of losing my Teddy Bear power to her. I came to
learn through intrinsic self-exploration that Teddy Bears are synonymous with
the graveyards of dead children. My love for God’s Innocence is represented by
a gigantic metaphysical Teddy Bear. That kind of spooky beautiful sh*t might
come out of my energy field when I’m collaborating in mantras with the DK. Do
you now understand why I refer to myself as a medium? I’m knees-deep in preternatural
soup. She loves all that stuff, when it finally happens, after hours and hours of
fapping. It’s how she gets all of her power, directly from my soul. I don’t
blame her in a way. If only I could measure the reservoir of my own power, and
have a good look at what different kinds of spirits the Good Lord has put
inside my heart. I’ve seen children come out of me and everything. It’s very
sad when it happens. I’d much rather have something so gorgeous inside than
out, looking at me inside my own flat, and having to defend both itself and I
against bad omens like the DK, who drink the blood of innocents for a living.
I wonder
about what else I harbour in my soul. Let’s have that glass of red wine
together, while I light my cigar. We’ll discuss it.
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