Try And Cheer Up

People in the public, over the last couple of days, seem to be treating me a bit better. My soulful share in Pathways yesterday was received warmly. I’m not sure if they feel sorry for me, understand me, or are simply pretending to do so, while taking the Michael. Either way, it’s nice to be appreciated. I believe that moments of fellowship, in my case, increase endorphins. Despite my imperfect appearance, I adore conversing with God’s Children, standing toe-to-toe with them, making eye contact. When I’m down and depressed with no energy, and a mind obliterated by hazardous toxins, (self-inflicted, I know) then everybody seems like a deity. They’re faster than me, they’re smarter than me, they’re more willing and able than me. I look at them with awe and reverence, tinted with envy, and sans compassion. That’s when I am on the run, seeking solace in their company even though they are being cruel to me. Why do the general public hate me, when I do nothing but love them back in return? Respond to hatred with grace.

I know a guy named Andy who had problems, like me, with the general public. He thought they were all chasing him. I haven’t quite told him yet, and I would hate to burst his bubble, but they probably were doing. Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean that they are not after you!

He said they all were pointing guns at him from the insides of their jackets. Even in the hospital, when his delirious panic drove him to the A&E department. Personally, I’ve had my fair share of strife in those departments. I couldn’t sit still. One of my so-called delusions was a stun gun, like the one they use on pigs. My voices were insisting upon me that I was going to be stunned at any given moment. Hate-mobbers and skitters were approaching me, concealing, looking intimidating and aggressive. I could even hear the thing sparking and fizzling. I was ever-so crapping myself. I wonder what would happen if you could bottle all the fear I’ve ever felt into one dose, and implant it into a vulnerable’s brain? Now that’s a lot of fear. How do you think they would react? I saw a woman in a vision who was stricken by unimaginable fear. She was shaking vigorously upon a shelf above hellfire lava, about to be kicked in by a mutant. Don’t ask me to explain it, but the image has stayed with me. I kinda fell in love with her instantly.

I also had a vision of a Chinese woman who had had her organs harvested without consent. If you think you know depressive states on the streets of Britain, try being oppressed over there. How is it possible to open up someone without pain relief, steal their precious organs, and leave them unstitched on a gurney praying for death? I would do anything to be charged with the mission of cheering those poor mislaid souls up. I would confess the diseased honesty of my privy sin in the hope than it would make them feel better. I’m not as bad as Saint Paul, but I have a hefty backpack of wrongdoing encasing my soul. I can’t believe the things I have done. It pales way more beyond the criminality side of things, and ripens into the spiritual realm. Very-very fortunately, I am forgiven for my sins. This enables me to rise again without having to have to harbour a heart of ice.

How would you cheer someone up, if they were waylaid with ultimate despair? Crack a few jokes off? It would almost be impossible to get a smile out of them. I’ve seen grief unadulterated when I lost my little brother. The house was nothing but a hive of flowers and tears. My big strong humble father couldn’t stop weeping. There was absolutely nothing anybody could do to lift his spirits.

I pray that you do not encounter grief and tragedy today. I am trying to make myself smile at the moment, never mind anyone else. It’s hard, without 6 Stella.