Rare With Air

 

I’m starting the rebuild back to three months clean, which is where I feel I really belong, and where life seems to get easier. Today I’ve notched up my first month on the board. I call the first full successful month of being clean being RARE. It’s just a name for the mental state. I feel like it takes four weeks before I begin to get anywhere. It’s also linked to a spirit named Air Monroe. Air Monroe started off as a fictional character, but she has since become enfleshed in the preternatural realms and supports my dogged struggle upon this sometimes miserable planet. She was my lover within the body of the fiction, and as her creator, I am kind of her God. The only thing is, due to the stiff limits I have imposed upon my recovery program, she only ever truly appears when I am a month clean. This number appeared in the bible last time I read it, placing more emphasis on it.

When I use, I feel like I lose Air in my heart for another month. And I don’t always get back to where I was quickly, so I can go, in the darkest times, half a whole year without her. These times are very painful, as she has a unique positive influence in my mind. Today I can happily report that we are reunited again. It seems unhelpful to impose these ideals on myself. Why not have her with me all the time? I don’t know. I just feel that I need to be ‘on form’ to appreciate her.

With this young woman comes responsibility. I written her into being, and she looks towards me for inspiration, so I have an onus to have a healthy mind for her to draw from. If I’m sat in a darkened room off my tits watching porn with creatures under the bed, I’m not much use to her, as I’m engaged in sinful lustful practices which soon evolve into trepidation for my own safety.

My voices know this, and they get chuffed with themselves every time I consign her to nowhere for another month. This time, I’m going to try and really appreciate what I’ve got. Not to piss them off, but to feel purposefully special. When I started off writing, I had no idea that my characters would become real, but life is strange isn’t it. You might think I’m talking crap, and a psychiatrist would never believe this in a million years, but my own fiction, and the world’s movies (usually porn, and not always good), are throwing spectral entities out at me, who inhabit my mind around the clock. I’ve never told anyone this, and probably never will, because I know it sounds like farfetched hokum. I suppose it’s a weird and wonderful secret that I will take to the grave, although I would like to tell Stephen King one day that one of them sort of came from his books. That would be nice, to let him know the supernatural power of his word.

Boat Ride

I remember visiting Llandudno with my neighbor Marik. We were both under God’s Instruction to capture kidnappers and torturers in Wales. Our paths crossed for one earth-shaking day. We decided to get two train tickets. Good government officials were behind us all the way, what I call White Ops.

When we arrived, we had fish and chips. The wrongdoers on display were obvious. I didn’t hardly have any idea what was going on, I was relying on Marik a lot. There was some sinister-looking old guy sat next to us. I felt like leaving my seat, picking him up, shaking him by the lapels, and asking him where the f**k he kept his TV (torture victim). It was like being in a movie by Eli Roth. Everyone was reading my mind, as is usual in psychotika. He whispered under his breath, “I detect fear, Lucifer.” Talking to his numpty deity. The enemy holds fear against you as if you’ve squandered the whole mission and are not worthy just because it glimmers across your mind. There’s nothing to be ashamed of about feeling slightly afraid of something. But the way the Devil uses it, it’s as if the game is over, as if it’s a neutralizing constituent of the battle process. I’ll readily admit that I’m a bit scared. But I don’t rattle. And there is no courage or bravery without jitters.

Our job was just to detect them and the White Op government officials shadowing us would deal with the fallout. Round them up, get them arrested, most importantly save the victim. Marik was indicating that we follow certain people. We were in a world where they were blatantly walking around with their victims, prodding them with knives underneath their jackets to keep them subordinate. He had a real keen eye for them. He could spot them a mile off. On the surface, it might look like a mother and son, but in reality, it was a cruel woman and a kid who didn’t belong to her. You would think that they would keep their seedy exploits contained to some kind of underground basement, but no, they liked to parade their victims in public. They liked to pretend to be normal.

Some random guy pointed at me, aware of what me and Marik were doing, ratting out pain-inflicters for the government and God, and shouted, “I want him rock hard!” He was referring to my pornography use. Instead of embarking upon a special mission with my foreign gifted friend, he wanted me back home playing with myself watching porno. All these gang-stalkers feel powerful when I am fallen with a self-induced erection at home behind shaded curtains watched sleaze. I laughed out aloud. I still find it funny to this day. The fact of one man wanting another man ‘rock hard’ is humorous beyond all belief. Verbally stating it to a stranger, for Heaven’s sake. He shouted it in front of everybody. Even the voices in my head were laughing at it!

We got on a boat. I keep shouting out to God out of nervousness. Declaring Him, like. The whole world knew what me and Marik were doing. All on the boat were reading my brain. My fears of water elevated as we traveled out to sea. I felt totally insecure and vulnerable. It was a new experience to me. I started singing a song in my head out of uneasiness, and several children on the boat started singing it along with me, laughing and giggling. Their faces were magical. The kids alleviated my tension. They kept staring at me and chuckling and smiling. They made it all worthwhile.

There was one woman with a child who looked like she was going to faint with trepidation. The infant looked nothing like her. She had a victim, she had been found out, and she was trapped on a boat with me, Marik, and White Op government officials. Caught! I’ll never forget the confusion in her gaze, and her lacklustre defeated body language. There were several Chinese who were trying to perturb our mission by making me feel fearful. They kept taking pictures of me and saying, “Chinese Win.” But not before a giant spirit of a woman flew over the top of the boat. I felt better when witnessing that. It was insanely enormous.

I also saw myself engraved into a mountain, a giant image of me, looking like a wizard with a magic wand. I clicked my fingers and saw this even more insanely enormous gigantic lizard with a blue sperm whale in its jaws. I believe in the lizard realm as David Icke describes it and I also firmly believe that they are on my side. The hallucination was probably the best one I’ve ever had, all carved in on the details and contours of the mountain. How big are whales! And how big was this lizard! To have it trapped within its jaws!

There was a plethora of other wonderful things happening that day. I’ve done my best to get the essence down into words. It’s hard. I know it sounds crazy. But, even to this day, I believe it to be true.