I am in
communion with my Higher Power all of the time now. In the past, I have turned
my back on them to masturbate to pornography for what feels like an insane
amount of hours. When I do that, I am feeding the dark side, and squandering my
divine protection. Presently I am sworn to terminate those callous practices. You
may think that there is nothing wrong with a bit of slap ‘n’ tickle on screen,
but that is only the beginning. When I get bored of the graven interracial
imagery, the demonic mantras enter my head, and I toss off to them. I won’t go
into details of what they say, but it is a very sadistic ritual. I hate it when
I do that, but the hatred is a twisted and morbid aphrodisiac which only ups my
appetite for sexual perversion. I can’t seem able to stop, and the cocaine or
amphetamine warp my moral compass, so that what is bad feels good, and what is
good feels soppy and cringey. Once the sun goes down and I eventually cease my
selfish endeavors, my Higher Power reveals itself to help me out with all the
unholy malignant forces which my sin has manifested and attracted. Dipped in
shame, I am hardly able to look upon them, and everything feels awkward, as if I
am not worthy. I just have to deal with the negative energies I have produced,
and it takes days and days to fend them off to a reasonable, manageable
distance, and it’s excruciating mental anguish in the process. Don’t get me
wrong, they haunt me every day, but when I’m clean my mind is a different
story, and I am able to cope. The gang-stalkers go away. The torture eases.
Now, without
the drugs and the porn and the demonic mantras, I am able to let the faces of
my divine protection shine upon me without embarrassment or judgement, and we
all get along happily. This is the way I would like to keep it. The next time I
return to ‘that thing’, the mantras will have me spelling out the name of my
special Angel, in order to divide our anointed union. This is something I will
simply not allow myself to do. It ain’t happenin’. If that should ever occur in
the future, I shall have an especially hard time sharing it, even with your
good self, who I more or less share everything with.
Since giving
up my meds, my so-called mental illness has really kicked off. I am now
convinced that I am on some kind of exceptional assignment from God. I’ve got a
mission in my head. The maddest aspect of ‘the mission’ is not knowing exactly
what that mission is. I know I have a calling but I have no idea what calling.
It’s a weird feeling. The astral plain reveals to me the truth of this
deeply-held belief. My dreams are impossible to describe. They have absolutely
nothing to do with the construct of my imagination. They come from ‘other’. I’m
certain of it. I meet people from distant worlds inside of them and communicate
with them. They blend in with the night terrors and the brain-tech. I call ‘going
to sleep’ ‘going to work’. It’s off the hook.
COMPLETE THE
MISSION
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