the emperor has no clothes
Like, the only way my life makes any sense is to accept the christian premise of a dimension which exists solely for the punishment of an individual and exists only for that individual.
like why have I never had a decent view? I crave them. I spend most of my life in my cell. Instead I have to leave and walk somewhere. Well, the simulation of a long view is too expensive to run it all the hours I am awake. Which is most of them.
Whether I roll with the premise that I will be rescued because I'm only being hardened for important spirit work, or that I am pointlessly striving in a dimension made purely to extend and fine tune suffering, either way, it can't be proven. If I roll with atheism, nothing matters and it's all just temporary frustration in a meat sack. I mean, the only one where it's worth even feeling is the first one, and I have to conclude it's bullshit.
Where's the lottery ticket or the contact from away?
The dog died. Sure, the angel to help me make it through until the estate cleared is dead now. Cancer was eating her the whole time we were together. All I have are the bitter words of my sister saying there's nothing for me and it's all up to her to decide over what there might be left. I just haven't any motivation. To do anything but wait for death. Even eating is optional and what I eat seems irrelevant. I'm going to feel like shit regardless. Because it's actual hell. Nothing is real. Everyone I interact with is a demon. Dan is a demon in charge of me. Let him struggle, the fucker. He was my first clue, years ago, that I might be in literal hell.
yesterday I had to see someone with both legs disintegrating into rotten meat under him. Freshly bleeding. and he's living in a wheelchair on the concrete.
Like I said, it's literal hell. I just wanted to ride through the park and had to see that.
Walk in the woods, see litter and grafitti. Turn on the internet/tv and see conflict, violence, hate and despair. Literal hell.
When I see things that aren't awful, it's just part of the game. Like the torturers of old had to stop and let the victim rest or have a sip of water, and when the victim just accepted that his world was pain and screaming, and began to disassociate, they would take him out of the dungeon, put him in a bed, feed him, play music, and so forth. Once the victim was refreshed, back we go to hell.
That's all the pauses are, you see. that's all the magical portends and premonitions and pretty flowers represent. I don't remember what I did in life, I guess that fine tunes the misery, but I don't even fucking care.
Clearly I have no agency and my choices and actions are irrelevant. it's all in the control of the torturer so fuck him, I quit. Everything is now optional. If I feel like it, ok, if I don't, fuck it. this is down to the level of sleeping, eating, cleaning or leaving this bus or looking at or speaking to anyone. I went shopping and came back with cookies and noodles. I don't want anything else. I don't like chewing, my teeth are broken and sore. I can't digest, my bowels are impacted. I'm always nauseous now. the hernia always hurts.
Let hell figure it out, I don't care. I'll suffer no matter how much effort I spend.
But there will be no free dental. No surgery without housing, and no chance even in hell of me being allowed to stay in communal housing past 6 months. I know how it goes. If I stay away from everyone, that's the reason they bully me. If I try and socialize, then THAT is the reason. If i switch, then that is twice the reason. The bullying then creates conflict for everyone and the solution is to remove me. Even though I clearly have been very well behaved the entire time. I just cry constantly and they're tired of it.
If I can't manage a bully then I should not be allowed to exist, it would seem.
which makes sense in hell. only in hell, though.
Was any part of my memory real?
Probably not. My childhood was way too shitty.