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How the Mid-Season Finale of Supernatural Made Me Cry

For anyone who has kept up with the tv series, Supernatural, the story of Sam and Dean has spanned eleven seasons. We’ve seen the boys hunt monsters and save people. We’ve seen the hell the boys have been through from not being able to save the people they set out to help to losing the people they love. And all the while, there was this hope that there was an endgame, that everything will be ok.

There are spoilers, so if someone’s not caught up to date or anything, please don’t read forward. If you do continue reading, consider yourself duly warned.

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Sam had been having visions from God every time he prayed. There was even a burning bush, like in the Bible. The visions were telling him that he had to return to the cage with Lucifer. And once there, he would find the answer to getting rid of the Darkness. Sam and Dean screwed up even bigger than normal. They let the Darkness out and now, she’s collecting the souls of mankind and growing stronger with each intake. Sam holds on to the hope that God is still here, that God is still watching and more importantly, that God still cares.

During the mid-season finale, Sam teams up with the King of Hell, Crowley, and his witch mother, Rowena, in a desperate move to call up Lucifer from the cage. Lucifer would know how God locked up the Darkness to begin with. Things obviously went wrong and Lucifer traps Sam in the cage with him. Rowena’s wards on the cage had worn off or something so Lucifer took Sam and wants to test out Sam’s meat suit – to possess him and walk the earth.

Sam still held on to the hope that God had a plan, that God was leading Sam to Lucifer’s cage, and that he was ready to do anything to save billions of lives, even to go back and stay in that cage forever. With Sam in the cage and Rowena’s wards no longer effective, Lucifer taunts Sam with the truth.

Lucifer: “Hey, Sam Winchester, you miss me? I bet you did.” [ Inhales deeply, exhales slowly ] “I have to say, you’re — you’re extraordinarily calm given the circumstances.”

Sam: “It’s pretty much exactly how God told me it was gonna be. Guess I just have to go with it and play my hand.”

Lucifer: [ Clicks tongue ] “And that would make so much sense if it was God that was doing the talking. You see, Sam, when the Darkness descended, the impact on Hell was massive. The cage was damaged. Through the fissures, I was able to reach out. It wasn’t God inside your head, Sam. It was me. So you see, he’s not with you. He’s never been with you. It was always just Me.”

I don’t know to how many people those words hit home. It hit real life. It hit our lives. “It wasn’t God inside your head. It was me. So you see, he’s not with you. He’s never been with you. It was always just me.” For me, those words summed up my entire life, even to today, and even to right now. It was never God inside my head. He’s not with me. He’s never been.

When I was incarcerated, I had a friend named Rachel. They took her mother to the segregated housing unit, the SHU, and every day at lunch, she would go jump on the the window sill to knock on the glass and talk to her mom. The first time was insane because she had to scream and figure out which cell her mom was in. And I worried she’d get caught and get thrown in there as well. So every day I would pray that she never got caught. Talking to people in the SHU wasn’t allowed. You get thrown in the SHU far away from whoever it was that you wanted to speak with. It was a spectacle at lunch every day for two weeks before they shipped her mom off and she never once got caught. And one day, I told her about how much I prayed that she wasn’t caught so she didn’t have to spend time in there. I told her that my prayers were answered because she never got into trouble for disobeying the rules. However, at the end of that conversation, I said to her that, “If all my prayers were answered the way I wanted them to be answered, then it may not have been God who answered them.” And I didn’t understand why I said that. I was always just a strange one. But it makes sense now. If all your prayers are always answered, it isn’t always God who is answering your prayers. And that’s exactly what Lucifer revealed to Sam.

I’m sitting here, alone in the dark, dog sitting my sister’s three dogs while she’s away for the weekend. I’m afraid of the dark. I’m terrified of dead things. And I have a strange phobia of zombies. It seems silly that I have so many fears, but I just finished watching a really bad movie on what I thought was going to be an exorcism. It was more or less, a botched production full of incredible actors. So am I still not afraid?

Fear comes and goes. I’ve really been with the dark for so long that I’m not even sure what I would be afraid of anymore. They’re just normal, every day things to me now. Sure, I can scare myself, think about something creepy hiding in a dark corner somewhere, but for the most part, I’m a bit beyond being afraid. It’s almost this strange familiarity, like family, and how you could have a horrific and violent family, but that part is irrelevant because it’s family.

Where is God?

I can’t speak for anyone else, but only for myself. I don’t have playtime with the dark and dark things because I actually like that kind of stuff or because I enjoy those kinds of things. It’s so easy to be wicked, to be mean and terrible to others, to plot evil and abuse everyone. Is that what I want, what I am? No. Somewhere, there’s a child that takes a step into the dark, unable to reach the light because they’re not tall enough, but walking forward and deeper into darkness, they can’t see anything behind them. Are their parents still right there following them? Why can’t a grown up just reach up and turn on the light? Why is it so dark? What’s the point of tripping over things in the darkness, of getting lost and scared and being lonely? Walk long enough, and eventually, you realize there’s no one behind you. No one following you. God is supposed to be everywhere. And still, He’s nowhere to be found.

Do you see me if I cut myself a hundred times? Can you hear me if I scream your name in your holy temple until my voice is gone? Will you see me if I cover your alter in the blood of your faithful followers? What can I do to get your attention? What can I do to have you take notice and answer me?

What are these feelings? All this destruction. Is it hatred? Is it malice? Is it anger? Is it jealousy? Is it vengeance? No. It’s pain. Pure and simple, it’s pain. People in pain. People wanting and hoping for something greater than themselves, and then coming to find out like Sam that there was never any hope. It didn’t exist. Sure, God exists, but He was never with us. He’s not with us. And that’s the saddest thing of all, to hope and see that that hope was nothing. That there was nothing.

 
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Posted by on December 12, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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The Queen of Heaven

In my dreams, there’s always a “queen of heaven”. Please note that all my dreams are horrific recurring nightmares. This has been a constant long before I accepted Christ. That’s not the point. The point is, in my awful and painful recurring nightmares, there’s a very evil and wicked woman who claims to be the queen of heaven.

Now, there’s hardly any logical thought in dreams and during lucid dreaming, there’s a slim chance that I am able to rationalize all the impossible things happening around me and to me as not being real. Pain, however, drives away all thoughts. When you’re being tortured in gruesome ways, your mind tends to disassociate. Everything stops and gets blocked out. You float a bit out of your dream body, much like you would in real life if that happened to you, and you become a spectator on the grotesque event happening to you.

I’m not strong so I run, as much as I can, which always happens to be in painfully slow motion. I’ve gone to extreme lengths to get away, inasmuch as harming myself to wake up. It’s a lucid dream so the knowledge that I’m dreaming is there, although the fear is overwhelming to the point of panic. It’s like being a caged animal. Your senses are cranked on ultra sensitivity alert. Adrenaline pumps through your veins like steroids. You’re simply just frantic and mad, doing anything and everything to get out, to wake up, to leave.

This queen of heaven watches in amusement because she haunts me and tortures me and knows that I must sleep some time, some day. I avoid her as much as I can. I avoid even the thought of her. In my dreams, all the churches are corrupted. There’s a blue book, a bible, dedicated to the queen of heaven. Churches are filled with more demons and monsters than actual people, of which I’ve never seen a real Christian in my dreams, ever.

Because of the nature of my dreams, I used to roam occult sites looking for answers. I wasn’t a Christian. I avoided Christianity. God didn’t help the nightmares. Demons in my dreams found the name Jesus to be funny. And they’d torture me more for foolishly believing that anyone or anything could help me.

New age. Metaphysical. Pagan. Occult. Kabbalah. Catholic. It’s all the same thing wrapped up in a pretty bow.

I used to not sleep out of fear. I’d stay awake with as many creepy things haunting my waking moments as they do when I’m asleep. I’m afraid of the dark for a reason. I’m afraid to be alone for a reason. I was conditioned to fear.

I pushed it all aside. Disassociated it. Pretended that it doesn’t happen. Pretended that I am safe. If I continued pretending enough, then it fades. It trickles slowly into the background, like a camera which focuses on one thing and blurs everything else out until it’s no longer there. That was the solution to my waking life, in order to have any semblance of a normal life, I disassociated the trauma, the fear, and the supernatural elsewhere. I don’t even know where now. But what about my dreams? That’s something I haven’t been able to figure out or fix yet.

I’ve come to the realization that evil exists in this world in an overwhelming capacity. Wickedness works in high places and infiltrates even into our own houses. Yep. It’s right under our noses, staring us in the face.

One of the groups I’m in on Facebook deals with magic. Their goddess is the most terrifying creepy woman ever. “Draw this sigil. Invite her into your dreams. She’s scary at first, but she gives you power and she’ll help.”

What? She’s frightening, but she’s really a cuddly teddy bear?

I never tried it. I have too many creepy women running around in my dreams already, I didn’t need another one with the thoughts of others feeding into some entity that would invade my already unbearable dreams. Who does that? I already instinctively flee from some queen of heaven creature. I didn’t need a queen of the webs to trap me in her webs. How do you even trust something that wants to kill you? It’s insanity.

For fame? For power? For the ability to say that you know magic and nothing can harm you? I don’t understand how people would enslave themselves to entities and demons and such when I’m trying to break free. Nothing, no amount of wealth or power or control would ever make me want to be a part of that or of any other like that. I am human. I will die. And so will the most powerful and the wealthiest person alive on this earth. We are mortals and we will die. And I will at least not die a slave to a beast.

The world is corrupted and corruption is right in our faces, taunting our inability to see it and to understand it.

I find it interesting that people don’t believe in the Bible. They don’t believe in God or in Jesus. Yet, they surely do know all the symbols of the devil. Wake up. All these symbols, all these gestures, all these horns and goats’ heads are not pop culture. They are not what’s cool right now. There’s an agenda behind everything. These images, these references, all these things desensitize people to evil, to the devil, to what’s bad and what’s wrong. It prepares people to be accepting of a master who requires terrifying you, humiliating you, and stripping down every last bit of humanity in you in order to make you a vessel for his own people, for demons.

People of every other religion but Christianity, and many who claim to be Christians, are using demonic symbols and gestures. But why? Surely they don’t believe in the devil because he’s a made up part of a made up religion called Christianity, right?

It boggles my mind, the sheer volume of misinformation and deception people allow themselves to believe, the ignorance of generations too entitled to freedom to realize they’re all slaves.

To see the world for what it is, to see the truth for what it is, maybe it’s so evil and corrupted that people have to disassociate themselves from it like I have to do with my dreams.

God is not a woman. God is not transgender. There is no queen of heaven. People can argue immortal gender issues all they want, as if they should know because they’ve got the inside scoop from so called experts and scientists and whomever or they’re really an immortal or whatever, but that’s the truth and it isn’t going to change. People, in their ignorance, helps to accomplish the agendas of those seeking to control and eliminate you. The world is full of wickedness. Learn the truth and wake up. I need to wake up again and stay awake.

 
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Posted by on July 8, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Dreams and Nightmares

I got a comment from my friend Jo Newey about dreams and dreaming. I hope she doesn’t mind that I made this a blog post. It was rather long and it’s crazy, so it deserves to be a blog post. ^_^

Joanne

June 28, 2014 at 5:46 am

I also have a lot of nightmares, lucid dreams, dreams where I don’t know if I’m sleeping and worst of all, false awakenings. Sometimes I’ll have nightmare after nightmare all night and not know whether I’m awake or asleep. I spend the whole time trying to wake myself up by trying to move, do math, remember things from real life, look at my hand, look for my bed (many suggestions I’ve heard but none seem to work), only to “wake up” in my dream again and start over. When I actually do wake up in the morning, it takes me a few minutes to be sure I’m not dreaming. Then I’ll be freaked out for the rest of the day.

I wouldn’t say I’ve come to terms with my weird dreams like you have though, they scare the hell out of me and some nights I don’t want to go to sleep out of fear.

How do you stay calm in your nightmares? Or don’t you?

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had nightmares. Every single dream had some horrific element in it, in them, and yes, there were times when I barely slept a few hours, went to school, stayed up all night, and repeated the process while making A’s and B’s. It was hard, but I did it because I was afraid to fall asleep. And in my dreams, pain hurts like hell. That whole, “pinch yourself and if it hurts, then you’re awake” thing is so not true when it comes to me. Pain is real in my dreams and sometimes, it carries over. Sometimes, things carry over like tears. I can cry so hard in a dream that I’d wake up crying. It doesn’t feel good.

When I was around sixteen, I got tired of being afraid. For once in my life, I was angry. I screamed at the top of my lungs and told it all to go away. I was tired of not having enough sleep, tired of waking up more sleep deprived than before I went to sleep, and tired of all the terrors and the horrors. I told myself that day that no matter how horrible my dreams were, I was going to get a good night’s sleep and I will wake up refreshed. Sometimes, all it takes is taking a stand for yourself. That’s all it took me…for me to tell myself that I was going to sleep good, no matter what kind of creepy dreams I had. So every night from then on, I slept and I woke up feeling great. Now, that didn’t mean that my dreams changed at all. They didn’t. But I slept now and I slept good–meaning that I woke up not allowing the dreams to stress me out. I think that’s what is happening to you now. You’re waking up with your dreams harassing you and stressing you out.

I know everything you speak of, Jo, about your dreams and the false awakenings. I hated those things. When you wake up, but you’re not really awake, you’re just awake in another dream. And it seems so much easier for you to wake up, stay up because you’re afraid, fall asleep hours later, and bam! You hit that same dream again or go right back to where you left off. I hated those things.

For me, I believe that standing up for myself really made a difference. I think you should try it too. Just control yourself. Tell yourself before you go to bed that you will have a good night’s sleep and you will wake up feeling refreshed. It might not work the first time (I don’t think you’re in anger yet, you’re still in fear. I was there for a long time so I totally understand). Keep trying. Eventually, what you’re doing is allowing yourself sleep and nice sleep. Your dreams may not change (mine haven’t yet), but whatever happens in the dream, will no longer affect you being awake and while you’re awake. Does that make sense? I hope it does.

My dreams are a safety net. I say that in the nicest way possible because, I cannot astral project and I also cannot go out of body. I’ve been out of body a few times, but I’m normally stuck in some part to my body, so what I do see is the room I’m sleeping in. I normally go out of body every time I sleep at a new house or a new place. Creepy to say this, but I’ve learned to just accept it as my way of making sure where I sleep is safe. And I still sleep with a light on…because I have nightmares, I’m afraid of the dark, and I tend to draw weird stuff to me. It’s not really a gift. It sucks. No one wants to be afraid all of the time. But, back to what I was saying about my dreams being a safety net. No matter how horrific my dreams are, I cannot leave them. And nothing can come in that hasn’t already been there. So in a way, it’s safe because everything that is there has been there from the beginning. Even though my dreams are scary, I know that they will not actually hurt my physical self and since I’ve stood up and stopped them from affecting my normal life, they don’t do that either.

I stay calm in my dreams because I’m lucid in them the majority of the time. And because they’re all recurring dreams, I’ve tried many ways to escape the dreams, so when I am dreaming, I get flashbacks of the many ways I’ve tried–and failed–at escaping the dreams. Meaning that I am able to see the quickest and least painful way to let the dream play out.

Also, sometimes, I’m not really in the dream. It’s weird. It’s like I inhabit the dream bodies and then a while later, I am separate and they continue on with whatever odd life they’re having. Last night, I literally dreamed that I was a vampire and later, that vampire was being played by Angelina Jolie. Odd, but true.

And I’m not really all that calm in my dreams. I panic…a lot. And when I panic, I get desperate. So I will do wild things, crazy things just to upset the dream as much as possible. But remember that I’m also mostly lucid. While sometimes, I can fake knowing I’m dreaming and fall right into the patterns of the dream, forgetting that I am dreaming, I make it a point to tell myself before I go to bed what I aim to accomplish with my dreams. I’ve experimented a lot. And dream books do not help at all. I’ve tried the majority of them.

When I panic and do crazy things, I go for the craziest of things. For example: a lot of the “baddies” in my dreams like to bite me and rip my flesh off. Literally, they eat me. And that’s always scary. It’s not a dog gnawing on your leg playfully. No. That dog is causing a lot of harm to your leg by breaking it and eating it raw. And I did mention that I always feel pain, right? Yeah, it hurts. So when I panic, I do the same thing back. I start to eat them–which is gross and it makes me gag, but hey, the way that I see it is that if someone/something is trying to eat me, I will eat them right back and see who wins in devouring the other first.

In a dream, I was in a car and this witch was beside me and she started trying to eat my arm. So I panicked, grabbed her head, and started eating her face. Yep. It was gross. And yes, I knew I was dreaming, but fear is a bit too strong to control and keep calm. And yes, I did eat her head and threw her body out of the window. In my opinion, whether awake or asleep…things without heads cannot see and cannot go anywhere.

Another example (and I was super lucid to do this)–I got tired of all the crazy characters that would be out in the street in front of my childhood home in my dream as if it was some universal highway for people to travel around on. So, I didn’t panic this time, but I experimented so much that as soon as I hit being lucid and I am out of that house (which is creepy and always haunted in the dream, by the way)–I can step outside, run into the street, and command everyone (no matter where they’re hiding) to show up. I can also change the time of day which is super cool. Changing night into day should tell you automatically that you’re dreaming, but dreams are stupid in that the impossible can happen and it all seems very normal. But, going for extremes, I made everyone take their clothes off. Of course, they all looked at me weird and funny, so I took my clothes off. Over and over and over again. I think the main purpose was to find a way to break the dreams, to break the loops of recurring dreams, and to change a dream efficiently. I would get down to half naked before clothes automatically appeared and I’m back to taking off layers and endless layers.

I do stupid things when I panic because I know I’m asleep, but it’s fear that also takes over me. I haven’t learned how to control it yet. At least not that well.

Jo, I think you should keep a dream journal. Tell yourself before you sleep that you will remember your dreams and then write them down when you wake up. It will help you to keep track of your dreams, maybe see something that the  dream is trying to say (this never works with me. My dreams have nothing to tell me. They’ve said so themselves.), and maybe it will also help to stop that dream from returning. (Do you have recurring dreams? I find that if I remember enough of a dream that helps me to remember the rest of the dream, that dream skips and doesn’t replay until I have forgotten it.)

Also, be firm. Stand up to your dreams and tell it what you want and what’s going to happen. Don’t let it control you. If you’d like to be lucid in your dreams, I’ll help. Let me know. I’ve tried a couple of things. Doesn’t work 100 percent. But it works in the beginning until my dreams got smarter.

Also, one more thing about waking up from a dream. I hate it. If you’re paralyzed, you can try moving. Rock your body back and forth or a limb until you wake. It’ll give you that sharp pins and needles feeling which I also hate (because it’s a strange sensation and can be similar to pain), but you’ll wake up.

I’ll tell you what I did when I was desperate, but don’t ever try it. Obviously, when you read this, you’ll see that it didn’t work. Not the way I wanted it to.

In a dream, I was so terrified, that I took a knife (how that happened to be in the bedroom, I have no idea), and I cut my chest open and ripped my heart out. I knew I was dreaming. I panicked. The body I was in, had an enlarged heart. I got to see it before I passed out. And I woke up, in the same dream again in a new dream body. (Yes, I feel like I’m possessing people or something odd like that at times.) This time, no knife. So I stabbed myself with a pair of scissors. Woke up in the dream again. No scissors or anything sharp. Took a pen and stabbed myself. And all the while, the things I was afraid of were staring at me, watching me commit dream suicide. Woke up again in the dream. Nothing sharp and nothing even blunt to use as a weapon. By now, they’re all confused and just staring. And I’m scared out of my wits. Which is why I resorted to the craziest things ever. I don’t remember what else I’ve tried after that. I did try using my hands, only to wake up finding myself tied and bound. It was insane, but when I feel trapped like that, like I couldn’t wake up and I’m aware that I’m dreaming–nothing matters. Not the pain, not the dream, not crazy. It’s like a rat that’s trapped. They’ll eat through anything to try and get out. And that’s me. That’s what I do. I hope you will never get desperate like that. But I learned stuff about myself. I learned that I have quite an imagination.

No one should have dreams like I do. So stand up to yours. I hope your dreams are like those I’ve read about with other people…where the dreams actually listen to you. Just try it anyway. The worse thing that could happen is what my dreams do to me when I try to command them–they laugh and tell me that they’re not a part of me, nor do they come from me, nor are they part of my subconscious, and I cannot control them. No one should have my dreams. Demand what you want from yours. If you’re not lucid enough in your dreams, tell yourself you’ll sleep well before you go to bed. Affirmation like that in this case really works. Good luck to you. Sorry this is so long. And I hope you don’t mind, but I am making this a blog post. It’s interesting and too long to just be in the comments. Let me know if I can help in any way. Thank you.

PS–Spinning, yes, twirling yourself around and around as fast as you can go. Try that in a dream. It is supposed to “reset” you in some way by changing your environment. So if you find yourself in a creepy environment, spin around as fast as you can for as long as you can and when you stop, your surroundings should have changed. I read it somewhere. Tried it and it worked and helped me out a lot in the beginning. After maybe fifty tries (all successful), the dreams caught on and got smarter. They adapted. So then, I had to try something else.

If you can find a mirror, push yourself through it. It will take you someplace else. If the mirror is too small, stretch it and pull it. It always works in the beginning. My dreams are like, a living entity or something. They adapt. I don’t know how. After so many successful tries with the mirror, I now just end up on the other side of the mirror, not in a different setting. It’s frustrating to have to always try something new to trick my dreams.

I even got to the point where I’d put my hand up against a wall and do weird stuff like break it, or turn it glassy so it’s mirror like so I can escape, or form a doorway so I can escape. Whenever I form doorways, they only lead to outside. I’ll still be in the same surroundings. Eventually, I’ll master these dreams. But what’s more, I wonder if leaving them would put me in danger because I attract weird things like a magnet. It’s not safe for me out there.

 
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Posted by on June 28, 2014 in Diary

 

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The People With No Voices

It’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the world and the things that go on in it. We live in the most beautiful country in the world with the most freedoms and yet, the illusion that we live in the most beautiful country in the world with the most freedoms is starting to shatter.

There are people who can scream at the top of their lungs until they are hoarse and no one will listen. These are the people with no voices.

These are the children left to die in the streets that no one pities because no one cares to see their suffering. These are the people in prison who are innocent of their crimes or who didn’t deserve as much time as they’ve gotten for their mistakes. These are the innovators and the forward thinkers of society who cannot and will never speak what they’ve dreamed and imagined and know to be true all because they know too well the consequences of having a voice in a world where one is to be voiceless.

And I too, am supposed to be without a voice.

There is a Mighty God who will judge the world come the end of all things. But for the oppressed and the broken and the contrite and the suffering, from where is hope in times of need? The Saviour is come, but we cannot see Him. The Saviour is still here, but the world continues to spin in all its glory without acknowledging Him. And while we still live in the world, do we obey its ways and follow in its deceits and lies and corruption? No. The Saviour has a voice and He spoke and His words caused many to anger whose wickedness were exposed to the light.

Having a voice against the world means many things. It means that you will be hated. It means that you will be persecuted. It means that you will not belong in a society who values the darkness more and calls that which is evil good.

We’ve all done bad things. We’re all wrong in our ways. I am more wrong than most–worse than any other. It would seem fitting that with such a high count of wickedness, I’d fit perfectly into this world with all its greed and all its power and all its deceitfulness and all its lies and all its murders. I haven’t figured out yet why I’m not right there in the midst of the world, living it up and not giving a care to the person next to me on whether they will live or they will die and in what state would they leave this world. I’ve come to realize that I can’t save the world, but I can speak up and have a voice of truth that may not be convenient or conventional or conforming. And it is in a voice that the world fears because when many voices gather and speak against, the world loses its hold on the precious souls of mankind.

I’ve learned that I’m about the worse person ever to start evangelizing. My brain insists on shutting down whenever I’m writing or studying or learning or testing so I’m not bright by any standard. I trust too easily and I’m not paranoid enough which makes me pretty much perfect prey for all the wolves. I have no qualifications for anything worthy of the world and the odds are highly stacked against me. I’ve also spent the last five years in a federal prison. And I am currently under an order of deportation in the hopes of the federal government that Thailand will one day acknowledge children born in refugee camps as citizens. There are 7 billion people–give or take–that are far more apt for the task of having a voice than me.

But the number of people with no voices just grows and grows, each one waiting for someone else to do what they cannot do on their own: speak.

I do not mind becoming one of them, to fade into the background, to be silent and ride out this wave we call life. I do not mind becoming ignorant and pretending that injustice doesn’t exist. I do not mind living the life of a wife and a mother, that which I was meant to live and that which is all the meaning of life there is to be found. I do not mind any of these things, but nothing changes. And no one steps up to speak.

How do I save a world of people and free them from the chains bound tightly upon them by the world and by a society that values perversion instead of truth? And how can I even begin to think of saving anyone when I’m the most likely one to be condemned to damnation? What irony or sense is that? She can save others, but she cannot save herself.

I’ve heard that spoken once about a Man whom at the time His death drew near, the world mocked His mortality, not understanding His immortality–that which they all sought desperately for, but died simply and was laid to rest in the ground with no other hope of arising again. Yet He died and He rose and He conquered death and the grave. And the world understood Him not and those who were there all the more hardened their hearts and believed Him not, following in their own ways and their own conceits.

The people with no voices need to speak. The people who have stuffed their ears so full of wax to not hear, need to listen. The people with no mind of their own but buzzes about like bees in a hive all working together for one queen, for the queen of heaven, the god of this world, need to think. The people with hearts of stone, lumpy black stone harder than obsidian, need to understand. The people who have eyes but do not use them to see truth, need to start watching and pay attention.

The time is now. Repent. Speak up. Listen. Think for yourself. Understand. Watch and see the truth.

Why all the fear? The worse thing that anyone can do to me is to kill me. There is nothing more that can be done. For what pain does a spirit feel? Or what shame for a body that is no longer alive? Or what dishonor for a name in seven billion still alive and many billions more already gone ahead?

Be not afraid of the world or those in it. For greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world.

 
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Posted by on May 4, 2014 in Diary

 

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Be Not Afraid of Greatness

William Shakespeare said, “Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

I never wanted to be great.

I wanted a simple life with a little house in the countryside and a husband who loves me and healthy kids and we’d grow old together living our short and boring but happy life with grandkids laughing and running all around us. That was it. That was the biggest dream I have and I can’t have it. It’s not my life. It’s not meant for me.

In the next couple of months–I’m going to move to New York; I’m going to be president of a non-profit organization; I’m going to work 80 hours a week; I’m going to have thousands of followers; and most importantly, I’m going to help hundreds of people all around the country…but that’s not the life that I want.

It sounds stupid, debating whether I just want to slink back into the shadows and live this very boring but fulfilling life of an indie author with no romantic prospects, period, and no closer to fulfilling the dream I wanted for myself or if I would throw it all away and become someone who might be well known, and probably hated by many others, and make a ton of money while I’m at it and help save lives but I would have to be in the world and be a part of it.

I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to write and in the very least, I will publish the fourth novel in the vampire series before all of this other stuff consumes every waking moment of my time. The other six books in the series, might have to wait a little while to get published if all goes according to plan.

A part of me hopes that by writing it all here and planning for it to happen–it won’t happen. My luck is such that any time I plan something, I will fail at it. So a part of me holds on to that truth that by planning to move and planning to do great things, I can fail and remain simply as I am right now. It sounds really bad to destroy my own future before I can create it–but in a world where greed and power and corruption rules, what need do I have to be a part of that? I don’t want it.

Someone has to stand up. And it might as well be someone who can stand up. Someone who is not afraid. Someone like me.

Enough rambling with myself. *lol*

In the words of a brat friend of mine, “how the fuck does you out of a bunch of people matter?

Silly man. This is my life. Of course I would be the one to matter. Stick around long enough, and you’ll see that I’m right.

 
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Posted by on April 28, 2014 in Diary

 

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