I regard ‘sharing’ my experience of resilience, strength and hope in drug counselling meetings as ‘apology’ these days. I’ve always had an interest in apology, watching shows like The Big Questions on a Sunday morning. I’d tune into any debate on the box, be it Kilroy or Esther Ransom or Vanessa Feltz. But what I really preferred were the big religiosity hitters, like Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, and William Lane Craig, to name but a few. I adore a good old-fashioned argument between diplomatic intellectuals, I think it’s dead interesting. It’s hysterical if one of them loses their rag.
I once saw an apologist pull another apologist’s trousers down live on air.
Before my meeting this morning, I got a touch violent myself in the canteen room. I accused a group of people of stalking me. Well, I didn’t quite accuse, I asked. Sorry, but it seems like the whole unruly town is in on my collapse. So I’ve started asking a few honest questions to people I don’t wholly trust. But when they look at me as if I’m daft, or pretend to not know what I’m talking about, I tend to get angry with them. I get locked up when I am peaceful, for nothing more than manning a BBQ, so you can imagine the panic in people I incur when I’m ready to throw my weight about.
I was huffing and puffing before, I was ready to batter someone. Some imbecile wound me up by expecting a handshake. When I refused, he followed me around with an extended palm, unable to accept that I didn’t want to shake with him. Then he ran away and grassed on me for getting aggressive. Everyone I know is a snitch round here. Weird thing is, they’re proud of it. That’s why I’m not scared, and why I feel extremely capable at the moment.
I’m Brave Against –
>other criminal hoodlums
>the corrupt police force
>invisible numpty evil spirits
I’m brave against them because I
belong to Christ. I have been persecuted, I am meek with entitled inheritance,
I am Heavenly bound, and I, most importantly, am a bloody and violent Angel of
wrath (if I want to be).
You should see my rap sheet. Arson, fighting, harassment, weapons, drugs…not proud, but it weren’t my fault. I was young and stupid and being led astray by negative forces. I’m not exulting these deeds but I’m far from ashamed, for they are honest reactions to being raised in modern society. What chance did I have, snatched away as a child? And now being oppressed sadistically by lonely bored maniacs every minute of the day! Go way!
I have a history of violence, and now that I am certain that I belong to God, after much recent doubt, I’ve been thinking about embracing that homicidal unpredictability again, to protect myself and to rout out the snakes. I’ve been a self-professed pacifist for nearly twenty years, so my hands have been tied behind my back all this time.
My brother says that there is a difference between being non-violent, and being harmless. Harmless can’t fight, even if they are provoked.
Still, even as a pacifist, I’ve been arrested for battery. Lol. All I did was break some stalker’s mobile phone as he was walking his Afghan Hound in the local park. I was at my wit’s end. I wrapped my arm around his girlfriend and she pressed charges too. You may not know this, but battery constitutes laying a single finger on another person. Yep, touching their shoulder pleasantly in greeting can be classed as assault. And it was. With me.
I wouldn’t be surprised if someone asked me for a light and then reported me for starting uncontrolled fires on their cigarette. I’ve been done for only marginally worse.
I have a twistedly wickedly streak like most people, only mine is suppressed deep down because of my moralistic convictions. I’ve been considering utilising all my wrath on someone, because the guilty are lining up in front of me with nothing but more sticks and stones to bring me down with. They don’t realise that they are useless agents of the dark one being used as collateral when I go full retard on them with wrestling moves. As I intend to do soon because I’m losing my mind.
You, by simply been here and reading this, help keep me sane. So thank you, if your intentions are pure.
That’s why I kicked off in the canteen earlier. I’d been hearing their voices in my head all night, and next morning there they all are engaged in small talk, as if they are all my friends, doing me favours by telling me the football scores. I was warned not to approach ‘real’ people if you are hearing their voice in your head, it’s probably not them, this new wave of neural weapon can imitate strangers easily, damned if I know about it, I just want to exert my anger over someone at the moment, any excuse’ll do, I’ll be honest about it, because I’m not training in the gym, and getting pent up feelings.
I’ve been thinking about the mentality about being a torpedo, and ‘smashing somone on sight’, (SOS). I reckon I’d be quite efficient at it. Three punches, three kicks, then I’d walk away. I’m fair. I don’t stamp on heads unless they have particularly upset me, although I would in certain circumstances, because 13 years of non-touch torture has me virtually foaming at the mouth for someone’s blood. Question is, whose? Anyone’s while I’m in this mood, straight up. I know this line of venture sounds horrible, but you should see the lengths I’m been driven to.
It would be nice though, wouldn’t it, to exact revenge on one of these impossible-to-describe dirt lords who drive good honest innocent people to the unimaginable despair of induced suicide through years and years of malicious covert harassment? It’s decided. The next person in the street who jangles their keys within earshot is getting thrashed up. Can’t wait to unload some hurting bombs. Their ancestors will feel them, like being kissed by the express train.
This may sound bizarre, but somebody once broke into my apartment and hurt a baby on my bed as I half-dozed on the sofa in the adjacent living room. I was frozen with fear at the time, there was an armed psycho in my home, I almost left. If that occurred now I’d investigate the intruder and dismantle him, no problem. That’s the difference these days between being a hapless victim of evil or a righteous fist of the Good Mighty Lord. I once ran from danger, now I charge into the fray. To live, and also to die, on this chosen, eventful day…
Kismet, synchronicity, zef side and all the rest of it.
I don’t think I’ll lose control, I’m too reasonable, I despise violence, plus I can express all kinds of furiousness through a practiced, measured vocal range in apology. Words can hurt just like a slap with a wet slipper. You should see me in class rip these fakers a new one. People attend apology sessions just to shut me up. For years I’ve let them get away with it.
But now the dream is over, and the monster is awake…
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