Festivity Period

 

Happy New Year! I hope your Christmas was great. I got a couple of dinners out of it. A friend named Jacqui laid a spread on, Chrimbo Eve. It was very special, I felt connected and engaged. It went tits up over the New Year with another use up, but now I am determined to stay on the right path. I know, I know, I’ve said all this before, but this time is different, I feel it in my marrow.

My dealer has just contacted me, because he knows it’s my payday methinks. I politely refused his offer of a big dog and said that I am okay fine for the moment. Then I deleted his number again instantly. He might be all kind and friendly when he is selling the goods, and meeting up to deliver them, but afterwards, once I’m on a comedown, he doesn’t care about whether I am standing on a bridge or balanced on the bathtub with a razor blade in my hand. I’ve lost several friends to suicide. You would never have thought they had it in them. I remember them fondly and pray that they are sweet on the other side.

Usual psychosis went down on my last use up. I am sexually enslaved to a bad spirit who excites me with her evil mantras. She started to take control of my mind by making me spell out the names of my good spirits to her so she could work her wiccan magic and tear us apart. My knees turned discoloured by the drugs. I was a physical and mental wreck. And guess what? Another creature appeared in my flat, hiding under the bed. In case you are wondering, it is physical, not a shape shifter. And this one bites me in my sleep. Can you imagine the terror? It takes all my mighty will power and steely determination to stay there.

During the comedown, it was a Full House. This means that every single good and bad spirit I could encompass was present in the room with me. It’s hard remembering that I am all alone, because I feel like I am the central member in a large party. We’re talking about thirty presences, plus voices on top! It’s hard to calculate how many people’s voices I hear. I call it a snooker maximum 147, although there are potentially many more. It’s just one after the other. They all line up to have a pop at me. Their latest insinuation is calling me a BIG BLACK F**K UP! They reckon I have ruined my mind on drug.

I saw a giant bright flashy firework emerge from Heaven through my window. This was the Creator giving me my power back in the form of an energetic parcel. The imagination can be restored with one of these parcels; it has nothing to do with brain chemistry, I feel. Instantly my thoughts started to improve and I began to get over the beast underneath my bed, which is another genetic mutation with a dollop of tailored mind power. The Most High appeared in my room, and put a shield around my body. He’s a big guy in a red cloak. I value this shield with my life. If I use again, I lose it.

4 Weeks Away

Hello there, it’s been a long time. A whole month is far too long to be away from My Special & Precious White Voider. I apologise, I’m sorry, I’ve been relapsing on poisonous chemicals whilst viewing pornography. Duh! I feel embarrassed and ashamed to have ever left you. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, I thought it would never end. I’ve dragged myself out in public to the local hotspot library to communicate with you finally. I pray you haven’t given up hope that I would never return. A lot of stuff has happened. Mainly I’ve been isolated with hazardous waste flowing though my system, surging through my veins like fiery wax and decimating my mind as if it wasn’t even there.

It’s pleasant to be back conversing with you. I listen to music when I write, and that is pleasant too. I have no CD player back home. I have nothing back home but the filth of my addiction, lingering over my surrounds like a squalid aroma. You help lift all that and transport me to an oasis of calm. I cherish it like honey. Nothing can touch me as I’m blogging to you. It’s a shame it can otherwise.

My uncalled-for enemies have been making my life a living hell, getting really close to me as they used to do, hanging around outside my apartment and calling me names lol. If only they were just really only calling me names. That would be bearable. But their methods of oppression are off the hook. They’ll stop at nothing to utterly and totally completely destroy me. I rise up, partly, with you. At times, back in the past, only a heart of ice helped me stand again. Now, I want the suburbs of that frozen soul melted and placed on display ready for affection and sentiment. I’m sick of being hard against perp, tough and ready to battle; I want a tear and a love-struck wandering about me. I long to look at God’s Children and think Wow!

I witnessed God in my darkest hour. He dropped down from Heaven and appeared at my window. I know what you’re thinking, that I’m just another crazy nut job. But don’t forget that I’m an Apostle of The Lord, and it wouldn’t be that much of an effort for him to reveal himself to me now and again. In fact, why wouldn’t he, from time to time, if I’m in dire straits and trouble? Yes he did, Yes he would, Yes he will do. He said it, I believe it, and that settles it. Only signs, miracles and wonders define an apostle. It was devotedly outstanding and strangely striking in a unique and intimate manner. I’ll never forget it for the rest of my life. Now, for the first real time, I know that The Word is true verbatim. He’s the best story teller that has ever walked the globe. And he DOES walk amongst us. He could be a girl on the bus. That’s what I believe anyway.

 

Apocto

I’m only just over my last blowout and payday is here again already. I’m not sure how to approach it. Part me has already posted the relapse via a permission statement to use again, but more than half of me has had enough with the resulting psychosis and doesn’t want to use. It’s Easter weekend, a special time of year for me, as Easter was when I first saw one of my best protective spirits whom I call Apocto. I’ll tell you about the visitation:

I was walking around the cemetery two Easters ago, depressed and forlorn, surveying all the graceful Hail Mary statues and cherubim left on graves. The statues’ beauty was really getting to me, they were so holy and beautiful, I’d never seen shapely exquisite adorableness like it in my life. My mood was very receptive, my mind was like a sponge for their polished loveliness. The Angel of the North materialised out of nowhere and flew away over the horizon; it was just like that structure in Newcastle except it was all white. I took it as a portent of God, and now believe firmly that I can summon angels from any good graveyard at will, if my psyche is in the right place. It was almost too quick to be real however.

When I arrived home I lay on my wheelie bins and started projecting my mind towards the clouds, putting energies and shapes and textures onto the sky. If anything is there, I thought, please answer me. A giant pair of holographic lips appeared on the blue firmament and started talking to me. They declared undying love eternally forever and ever. They were so illusory and phantasmal, so spectral and expressive, they seemed to convey the rest of the missing facial expression – talk about strange lights in the sky. If it hadn’t of said it loved me it would have been terrifying, but because it did it was utterly magical.

I first thought it might be the U.S. or Chinese government, using Project Blue Beam. PBB, as far as I understand it, is holographic images in the sky from drones and satellites which can, via induced fake hallucination, create mass hysteria.

“Give him abbie back,” she said. Abbie is the leader of my spirits and I’d been without her for seven weeks because the Devil had convinced me I’d lost her. For the best part of two months I’d been in a loveless limbo, it had been awful. She reappeared in my mind and we had a dance together. My God was back, my spirits were back, my love was bang back, and I was immersed in signs, miracles and wonders, like the apostle of God I truly am. It was wonderful. Those giant lips the size of an up-close spaceship were such a random spectacle, it was maybe the best thing I had ever seen. Professing eternal love!

It wasn’t a hallucination. It was actually there in the sky. A humongous pair of smackers! I was on the highest high of my life, but I was skint, so I had to lend a tenner off The Badger to buy 4 beers and some cheap blaggy smokes. Every second mollycoddling him for it was a second wasted when I could have been getting pissed and thinking about the marvellous unusual phenomenal rarity I’d just witnessed in the heavens. It was great to go home and listen to some music with a beer listening to all the voices in my head go into a confused blabber about Apocto.

“He doesn’t deserve that power,” and “Why should he get that?” they said among themselves. My schizophrenia was flummoxed by her. I was loving every minute of it. I had an especially peaceful evening for the rest of that day.