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The “My Husband Doesn’t Need to See Your Boobs” Debate

It’s summertime. There’s lots of people half naked or mostly naked on a gorgeous beach somewhere or partying in the dusk with friends and loved ones. There’s going to be lots of legs, abs, butts, and chests all over social media in the coming months. And that’s normal. Again, it’s summertime.

If we were anything like European countries, we’d have naked people all over the place on beaches and social media, but we’re not like European countries. We’re a country of sexually repressed people who over-sexualizes men and women because seeing a naked body is, and has always been, taboo. Naked bodies are natural. People naked are natural. And yet, we’re not even talking about nakedness, we’re talking about nearly nakedness, about people in short shorts or spaghetti strap tanks because it’s hot outside. We’re talking about shirtless men and bikini clad women because it’s the beach and so on.

And some are offended because once in a while, their significant other will scroll down his Facebook feed and come across a picture of a female friend in barely nothing with shapely shoulders, deep collarbones, flat abs, and oh yeah, breasts covered with a bikini. And they will wonder if all of a sudden, their husbands and boyfriends are starting to imagine female friends in lingerie.

*sighs*

There was a blog post written in 2014 by a married woman titled, “My Husband Doesn’t Need to See Your Boobs”. Since it’s been taken off her website, it can be found here on the Internet Archive at: https://web.archive.org/web/20140612150401/http://applesandbandaidsblog.com/2014/06/11/my-husband-doesnt-need-to-see-your-boobs/

Lauren, the author, talks about how pictures of women in bikinis on the internet is a stumbling block in her marriage. Her own words below.

“I’m not writing to chastise you for posting your bikini pics from your lake outing…But I am writing to share the perspective of a woman who is fighting for her marriage. And for that reason, I want to tell you that I don’t need my husband to see your boobs…Anyways, what I’m saying is I don’t fault you…But I want to tell you that it’s a stumbling block in our marriage…Mostly I’m looking at your legs asking myself, How are there seriously people without cellulite????…And then I continue scrolling through my feed until something else seems interesting…I doubt my husband is so lucky. Actually, I know it’s next to impossible to take in images like those and erase them from his mind. Because our men are much less emotional and are much more visual. And as quickly as I can forget your picture, it is filed away in his mind, ready to be pulled back out whenever he so chooses…Again, I am not faulting you. And by no means am I faulting him. This man of mine diverts his eyes from whatever questionable images flash on the screen before him. But sometimes the temptation is too much…After Memorial Day, I noticed so much skin on social media that I half-yelled a warning to him as I ran out the door one morning. It’s summertime, honey! Beware the beach pics and half nude girls on Instagram! And like that, he was in solitary confinement from all virtual community for the next two days…Protecting his eyes, protecting his heart…I know you don’t mean anything by it. But I need to share one more thing with you…When your bare shoulders and stretchmark-less bellies and tanned legs pop up, I not only worry if my husband will linger over your picture. I worry how he will compare me to you…As I wrap myself into his arms at night, I wonder if he is seeing you there instead of my mess of a body left over from pregnancy. I wonder if he thinks I’m lazy and that I don’t take good care of myself. I wonder if he wishes I looked more like you than who I really am…And then the insecurity monster comes back to bite at our relationship again…me, begging for affirmation, and him tiring from saying the same thing over and over…Can I say it one more time? I’m not judging youBut would you, could you, keep your boobs out of my marriage? You can have your memories, and we can have our sacred hearts…”

 

I understand this. Insecurity and jealousy is a monster that rears its ugly head from time to time. I’ve been a victim to it. And I’ve allowed it to drive people around me crazy, but no more! There has to be a point in time when you shut out the criticizing voices in your head and demand, “enough is enough!” But unfortunately, some of us never reach that point. Some of us are still wondering if our husbands and boyfriends are thinking about someone else while they’re with us. And all their “I love yous” and all their “I’m committed” will mean nothing because we are afraid. We are afraid because we don’t love ourselves enough and because we don’t find ourselves worthy of our own love, we question the love that others have for us.

While I understand Lauren’s feelings, it’s also this type of perception that propels things like rape culture. It’s people saying, “Women, you need to cover up. Your shoulders are showing. Your pants are too tight. I can see your belly. You’re asking a man to rape you.” WTF? No, we’re not. A woman in a tank top because it’s hot outside isn’t asking for a man to come along and rape her. That’s not why she’s wearing a tank top. It’s damn hot outside and that’s why she wears a tank top.

I’ve always believed that you can never control another person. You can try, to no avail and much frustrations to both parties, but the only real thing you can control is your reaction to people and to situations. If people on social media in a small amount of clothing bothers you, then get off the computer and do something else. If you think your husband is staring at some female friend’s boobs on social media, then stop thinking! Even if your husband was looking at a picture of a female friend on his Facebook feed, it does not mean that he’s going to start comparing the two of you and start thinking about wanting to get with her instead. He chose you. That’s gotta mean more than your insecurities because you don’t like yourself enough. And yes, you don’t like yourself enough and that’s the real problem here. The problem isn’t your husband coming across pictures of female friends having fun at the beach in bikinis, but that you’re not ok with yourself. And having your husband reaffirm your worthiness, reaffirm your desirability, and even reaffirming his love for you isn’t going to be enough until you can learn to love yourself.

So stop comparing. Your husband isn’t comparing, only you are. So what if you think his female friends are attractive with perfect bodies? He might not even see them that way at all. One might be that annoying girl who always posts political things that he’d like to unfriend, but some of her posts might actually make sense once in a blue moon so he keeps her around. Another might be an old friend from high school that he doesn’t even talk to, but she was manager of their 20th high school reunion so she contacted him and he just never thought of unfriending her. Another might be someone who is close to one of his immediate family members like his sister or his mother so he keeps them around just in case they can’t get a hold of his sister or his mother. Whatever the reasons for him having female friends are, he has female friends and that’s ok. It doesn’t mean he’s constantly thinking about them naked or keeping them in his spank bank for private and intimate moments. It really doesn’t have to mean anything at all.

Telling him he can’t have female friends is trying to control him. Telling other females that they need to cover up is trying to control them. It’s also insulting to your husband that he’s so base, he can’t control himself when a picture of a decent looking woman pops up on his feed. It’s rape culture all over again.

Instead of worrying about how much hotter his female friends are, take a step back from your husband and think about yourself. Think about the things you like about yourself and the things you don’t like. Then try to connect the things you don’t like about yourself to the things you think he’s doing or thinking. You don’t like that you have cellulite. This one friend of his is always so tan with tone legs. So you think he’s finding her legs attractive and not yours because you don’t like your legs. But this is all just you over thinking! This is just all in your head! But you punish him for your own dislikes about yourself. Just because you don’t like your cellulite laden legs, you make a comment on how he shouldn’t be looking at female legs on the internet. He stays off the internet for two days just to make you happy because he loves you. Why does he have to suffer because you can’t love yourself? He shouldn’t and he doesn’t have to. Time and time again, he will choose you over anything and anyone else because he’s already chosen you. Let that sink in and then stop punishing him because you don’t feel good about yourself.

Lauren, like many other women, like myself, really need to get a grip on how we view ourselves and our self worth. We’ve got to stop blaming everyone else for not loving us enough or wanting to love us as how we are because we don’t love ourselves. It’s definitely going to be a work in progress, but it’s an easy start. All it takes is for you to do something nice for yourself. And nice doesn’t mean eating a piece of chocolate cake when you’re worried about your weight. Nice is a manicure. A foot massage. Anything as simple as putting on makeup or taking a shower. Do things that make you feel good about yourself. All in all, just take some time for yourself. Boyfriends and husbands are great, but you need alone time and so do they. Each one of you need time to just relax and be alone because it’s only in being alone that you can enjoy your own company and realize that you are not incomplete.

Good luck to you all.
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Posted by on June 18, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Life Lessons From High School

There was this tiny goth girl named Stephanie that I used to know in high school. She hated me. She thought I dated her ex-boyfriend, Tim, because we were always together. Tim and I were good friends. We were smart enough to pass our classes without actually paying attention, so we did whatever we wanted.

Stephanie and I actually became good friends later. I admit that I hated certain things because she liked them, like SpongeBob and this tall, super pale, probably only 100 pound emo goth vampire wannabe named Jay. -.-

Before Stephanie and I became good friends, I met a girl named Keera at Jay’s house. We were both tricked into going there. Keera thought she was going to the movies and my friend Will was supposed to be taking me home after school. Instead, he took me and Stephanie there.

Keera didn’t like Stephanie. The only thing Keera and I had in common was that we both didn’t like the same girl. As to why I didn’t like Stephanie, I don’t really know. I didn’t like a lot of people back then, even less now, but Keera and I bonded over our mutual annoyance at being tricked and at our mutual dislike of a girl whom everyone liked and we didn’t understand why.

Keera always talked bad about Stephanie. I usually just went along and listened, not stopping her from ranting. I was older than everyone. Stephanie was sixteen or seventeen and Keera was a year younger than her. On and on, we’d talk bad about a girl we didn’t even know, a girl we disliked for absolutely no damn reason at all.

Stephanie had a bad home life. She got a job at Dunkin’ Donuts and worked hard. She eventually got a car and moved out of her parents’ house.

I remember how Keera used to make fun of Stephanie and her job. It was odd to me because Keera never had a job, didn’t want to work, smoked weed and drank and smoke cigarettes, and had no foreseeable future, but Stephanie had a future and she was working hard toward that future. It was silly for someone who did nothing nothing to improve their life to make fun of someone who was trying very hard to improve their life.

Stephanie and I became close friends after I finally dispelled her relationship thoughts of me and Tim. She trusted me with her secrets. We swore to be sisters. And when I couldn’t hold my end to always protect her, I gave her protection over to Ganesh, the elephant god she adored.

Unhappy people sucks your life and makes you unhappy too. I should’ve seen the warning signs. Unhappy people make fun of people they don’t know. They find any excuse to make someone else look bad so they can feel better about their selves. Keera was very unhappy. And around her, I was unhappy too. I was unhappy for a long time, a time lasting longer than the actual years I knew Keera.

I lost touch with Stephanie after a while, but I was friends with Keera for a long time. If I could change it, I’d rather be friends with Stephanie and lose touch with Keera.

When making friends, choose people who are going somewhere, who have goals, who want to do something with their lives. Don’t choose people who want you to sit with them because they don’t want to get up and move.

 
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Posted by on December 7, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Halloween and Other Things

It’s Halloween and that means that every kid in America will be all dressed up in awesome costumes going trick or treating from door to door from late afternoon well into the night. At least that was the scenario when I was growing up. Door to door trick or treating now is almost unheard of. Instead, you have giant car to car gatherings, mostly organized by a church at a safely lit church parking lot, where kids dress up and go from car trunk to car trunk to get treats.

I used to trick or treat with friends and neighbors without adult supervision. We’d go all over our neighborhood and have a great time trick or treating. We didn’t worry about opened candy or being kidnapped. We didn’t worry about going into a house and never being able to come out again. Back in those days, we did fundraisers for school by going door to door alone. That was because we knew our neighbors. We actually talked to our neighbors. Granted, we didn’t know personal details about each house and each family, but we knew enough to know what kind of people they were and if we could trust them. Back then, trust was easy. It was never questioned. It was never questioned if the lone man in the blue house was some creepy pervert or that the old woman in the red brick house was really some horrid witch who ate children for her supper. Trust was a given thing in neighborhoods, even with the neighbors who didn’t like anyone at all. But in today’s world, everything is different. And trust is no longer a given. It’s a very rare thing now to have.

What is it with churches planning Halloween events? I understand the need to make settings safe for children and your entire flock, but shouldn’t Halloween not be celebrated by churches? It’s not the same as having people who celebrate Halloween that go to church. Churches celebrating Halloween gives it the okay for everyone in those churches to compromise their beliefs and add in other beliefs.

Is it hypocritical of me to even say that? I’m a Christian. I don’t celebrate Halloween (unless people want to give me candy), but I wish everyone a Happy Halloween all the time. So in essence, I’m celebrating Halloween too. I don’t want to be the kind of person who totally pretends that other people’s beliefs don’t exist, or worse, condemns people to hell for what they believe in. So is that what churches are doing, celebrating Halloween so that they don’t look like jerks?

However, being a jerk is a cool and amusing thing in today’s society. Viral videos of people being mean are the trend and sadly, there are people making videos trying to top those videos.

Insulting people, making fun of people, and bullying people isn’t a funny thing. Yet, we do it all the time. We do it in families, in friendships, in relationships and we think it’s super funny because we laugh at other people’s expenses. The saying goes, “Only I have the right to make fun of my family and tease them, but if you do it, I will hurt you“. Since when has it been okay to be mean and horrible to your family, but nice to everyone else? Worse, since when has it been okay to be upset at other people doing the same thing you’re doing to the same person you do it to? That’s hypocritical too.

I have a big family. I was very mean when I was younger. I had a lot of anger. I had a lot of unresolved issues. I get mad now when my family is being mean to one another. I get mad now when my friends do the same thing.

Rachel used to call everyone a bitch, a slut, a whore, and a multitude of other degrading things. It was the way she had always spoken to others and others accepted that about her. I tried to accept that about her too, but I eventually had to say no. It wasn’t okay to joke around and call someone names, even if all her other friends were okay with it. I wasn’t okay with it. She was very mad that I even told her to stop calling me names, but slowly, she did stop. And she stopped calling everyone else names too. She stopped allowing people to call her names as well.

Most people don’t realize that all the “jokes” and all the “harmless humor” in insulting yourself and others actually do affect you and others. Everyone starts to believe it. And while most have adapted to throw on a thick skin and pretend that words don’t hurt, they do. Name calling like that degrades people. And it makes their self esteem and self worth go down. It’s a form of manipulation hidden behind a smile and laughter. Much like many forms of manipulation hidden the same way, they all affect what we think about ourselves, how we feel about ourselves, and that if everyone else was like us and felt like us, then we’re not alone and we’re not as bad as we feel about ourselves.

What is a good medium between harmless teasing and insulting masquerading as teasing?

I don’t know. I think we all go back to that double standard that we were taught as kids that it was okay to be mean to people you care about, but to be nice to everyone else. That double standard isn’t right.

Since when is calling someone fat or chubby out of love make calling anyone else fat or chubby okay? Since when is calling someone an arrogant jerk and teasing them about it out of love make calling anyone else an arrogant jerk and teasing them about it okay? Since when are we so preoccupied with tearing other people down, tearing ourselves down, that that becomes the new normal? That it becomes the new okay? All of these things that we do, all the insulting and teasing and bullying are tearing people’s self esteem and self worth down, whether we love them or not, whether they’re family or not, whether they’re our best friend or not. It’s not okay. It’s not okay to hurt others and ourselves.

I’m off on a tangent here.

I missed the good old days when things were easier and nothing was so blurred that it’s hypocritical religious political societal bs.

 
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Posted by on October 31, 2014 in Diary

 

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The Reality of Watchers and Guardians and Everything Else in Between

For people who don’t know, I live a rather crazy fantasy life, one not really of my own choosing, but one that kind of just fell on me. I’m thankful that’s not literal.

I don’t indulge in the whole supernatural/new age/occultic/paranormal thing. I actually avoid it all unless there’s pressing matters that requires I must absolutely do something and can’t ignore. Today, I want to talk a bit about my weirdness and the things in it.

My crazy recurring dreams was the gateway drug into the madness for me. It’s common for people to have one or a few recurring dreams. All my dreams are recurring dreams. And that’s not normal. I was always afraid to sleep. And it wasn’t just the dreams. In waking life, I was immersed in an invisible world from as far back as I can remember, one where even my parents who were shamans (and still are), couldn’t understand and relate to. Apparently, the things I’ve experienced, aren’t normal to them either (shamans communicate with spirits). It made me feel more alone than ever. And in my quest to fit in somewhere–between the world of the living and the world of the invisible, I started to try and understand what was happening to me and why.

When I met Keera (whose name is actually spelled, Ke’era), I never knew she’d enlighten me a bit about my dreams and introduce me to hers, a world I called the Otherworld, and of the inhabitants who live there who have been in my dreams as well.

We were good friends. I thought we were. She thought I wanted them, that world and those things there. I didn’t live there. I was alive here. And I wanted to fit in here somewhere. It felt so good to have someone who would understand what I was talking about who wouldn’t look at me like I was crazy and who could actually say, “yeah, his name is Charlie”. For all the mistakes we’ve made in our friendship, she was my best friend for a long time. I don’t know where she is now or what has happened to her. I dream about her sometimes, but like in real life, she’s never there.

The Otherworld is a place that exists. I don’t know where specifically. I wrote our story–mine, actually, or whatever the thing there that looks like me and takes my name’s story. The woman with the long black hair.

For a while, Keera and I didn’t have names for them. They were named what we saw them as: the man with the ponytail; the demon; the woman with the red hair; the cursed man; the man with the green eyes; the short creatures; the lady who lived in the lake; etc. As we got more involved in that world and in them, we were able to know their names. Sometimes, they’d have normal names. Other times, their names were so creative, it sounded made up. Domonico/Demonico; Anna; Ameggo; Deltro Clearstone; Lorenzo; Charlie; Charly; Will; Maeroleez; Stephen; Carmelia; and of course, me and Keera.

How do you communicate with a world that isn’t here where voices are whispers on the wind and the entire world seems to exist within your own head? Keera and I used to call the Otherworld (she called it the OtherPlace) a shared delusion between us. It was shared schizophrenia and in a lot of ways, that was definitely it. I could infect her world and change it. And in the end, I ruined what was once a beautiful and happy and calm place for her by knowing its existence, by being a part of it.

Things got darker. And more terrifying. What used to be a quiet day relaxing in the trees for Keera in her dreams became nightmares, trying to run away from Mr. Gray, the cursed man. They became dreams of being locked up in mental institutions and having bombs strapped to the backs of others, having heads blown off with guns. And the violence increased.

I’m sure that if she could take it all back–letting me in and letting me know about her secret place–she would. Just like I would’ve taken it all back for the five years I was obsessed with finding myself and that place being a clue and what seemed like a lifetime wasted. Keera and I both have our regrets, about that world, about each other, about our past. But what’s done is done. All we can do now is to pick up the pieces and move on.

Demonico haunts me. I call him my best friend, because I can’t get rid of him. Right now, we’re not really on speaking terms. I’m actually not on speaking terms to any of them from that place, from that world. When I need him, he’s here. I guess that’s what counts. It’s a long story, one that spanned three books and I shortened to two: Beyond the Gates: Otherworld and Beyond the Gates: Darkworld.

I don’t really know what Demonico or any of the others would classify as. I call them all Watchers. Being a Christian, there’s a lot of blasphemy in my life, but aside from that, there’s also a lot of valuable insight.

What is a Watcher? In the world of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, a watcher is someone who guides and teaches the slayer in her job and duties. A Watcher is sort of the same thing. Many people have said that Watchers were once the fallen angels who came to earth and watched over the world of man, who took mortal women for wives and taught them magic and such things that mankind didn’t know of. In essence, both are true. A Watcher guides. A Watcher is a fallen angel. A Watcher teaches mankind magic. A Watcher is a nicer name than demon. Demons are fallen angels as well. So Demonico, whose name was once spelled Domonico, is actually in fact, a demon.

Contrary to popular belief, demons aren’t always the nasty, horrible smelling, violence feeding, murderous entities that they’re depicted in movies and television and books. Nope. Most demons are in fact, rather useful, rather truthful (to an extent for their own benefits), and rather nice. Yeah, I said it. They’re rather nice as in character wise kindness. After all, being mean and evil and murderous isn’t exactly a popular decision if their main purpose isn’t to kill, but to damn forever so they wouldn’t be alone when all that wonderful Judgement Day thing comes. Point is, it doesn’t matter what religion you are or what you believe in. Watchers, demons, guardians (yes, they have many names), and pretty much the majority of the invisible world exist whether you want to believe that they are real or not. Your acceptance of their existence isn’t needed for them to exist. They are here whether anyone believes or not. They have always been here.

Demonico wasn’t the first and he surely wasn’t the last in the multitude of weird things I attract. Why? I don’t even know. The next was Angelus. Another made up name for a dying god who isn’t dead and has more followers than probably the biggest church in the state I live in. Another Watcher I didn’t want.

I can’t even remember how Volk and I got to talking about Watchers and demons and such. I’m quite certain half of it had to do with my arrogance and his intelligence. He’s pretty arrogant too. He offered his Watcher, Angelus, to me. I declined. Never ask me a question where I can say no because I’d say no. He sounded so distraught. We were awesome friends. And yet, Angelus imposed himself on me. In the end, I was marked and part of the team. Yay. I sound so enthusiastic about getting deeper involved in the crazy of crazy. When my entire goal is to be normal and blend in with this world and society, more crazy things don’t help. But it’s difficult to pretend to be something I’m not either and I am not normal.

Angelus dies a lot. Go figure how a spirit can die, but they do. He was a construct, not the actual entity. I’ve had constructs. I’ve made them. Quite easy if you ask me, but then, everything’s been quite easy for me. It’s much harder for others. Do you want one composed of an actual effigy? How about one solid as a golem? Or one that just protects you while you’re doing all that astral traveling? How about one to protect you while you’re awake? There’s many uses for constructs. There’s many ways to make them. The most useful to me, are of me. Weird, but true.

The newest Watcher was Xyr, who, apparently skipped the entire bonding process that would’ve had to exist between me and Jay and instead, imposed himself on me. Again. Recurring theme here, I guess, of things forcing their way. For a weak and whiny girl who isn’t anything special, I get enslaved to being a part of something I just normally avoid.

Like Keera and Volk, Jay was needed to simply inform me of a few key elements that would lead to inevitability, which was whatever Watcher(s) that was attached to that individual. For Keera, it was Demonico. For Volk, it was Angelus. For Jay, it was Xyr.

Oh, and did I forget to mention the ArchDuke of Arcadia which is currently at war with the faes? How silly of me to forget such an important and prominent individual! Argh…the mess, the stress, the dramas…you’d wonder why I haven’t cracked yet and gone to the crazy house. That’s because no matter how crazy everything is, I’m not crazy. I only sound crazy.

Sighs

That’s not even the tip of the iceberg…

It doesn’t make me feel better to know I’m consorting around with demons. That’s the farthest from my intentions. One day, I’d like to return home to where I belong. And that’s not with them. So, right now, I persist in only knowing that there’s a bigger purpose for all of this jumbled mess and it will get sorted out later.

The best thing out of all of this, I think, is that I can relate to a multitude of people out there. Whether that’s the really crazy ones or the ones who simply, like me at one point in time, is trying to find themselves and why things happen to them. Being able to tell someone it’s okay and that we don’t actually end up in the crazy house makes everything better somehow. And letting people know that they’re not alone–that made a big difference to me so it’s good to be able to say it back to someone going through a tough time and letting them know that it’ll be okay. It will be okay.

Or is it all just in my head?

That is the question of skeptics. If someone is close to me, or if I hold them in high regards, then the weirdness in my life likes to leech on to them. I guess it’s a sort of blackmail kind of thing, and I never respond well to such things. Friends of mine have experienced dreams with entities from my part of the sphere, some as horrific as torturous nightmares. A lot of my friends don’t know the weird side of me, so they don’t talk about what happens to them and I’d have to hear it to know it. Even when they do know, they would be equally weird too, so it would seem like something weird they’re going through and not an attack from the weirder things concerning me. To everyone out there who has been hurt, I’m sorry. Maybe half of the reason why I’m antisocial is to keep everything in a bubble away from other people.

Most of the time, I don’t affect people in that manner–in the bad way. The whole nightmares thing was settled. That was a specific individual trying to get my attention and I got it and took care of it. The rest isn’t so bad. Tyesha had dreams of me and her and our four other best friends during college in some giant group orgy with a mystery guy that actually invades my dreams from time to time. I don’t even have dreams like that with that guy! Lol. That was a long time ago. He was a Watcher. And he’s actually not a part of my life anymore. He was only there at a time I needed someone to understand and there was none in this world. I was a child. Hope to a kid is heaven. And I hoped.

I actually shouldn’t affect people much. Demonico, Angelus, and Xyr would never bother anyone out of their own free will and whatnot. But I bother people sometimes. It’s kind of hard not to. When you’ve dealt with Watchers your whole life, you notice it in others. Meaning, when you know demons, you notice them in others and around others. The difficult thing is going up to someone and saying, “do you know you’ve got something dangerous with you?”

It’s hypocritical of me to pull demons out of people, knowing that I have them too and I can’t get rid of mine. Well, I take that back. I’m sure I can get rid of mine. But having more is not something I want. It’s something I have to deal with for right now.

People can tell me, “my daughter speaks to angels” or “my deceased great grandmother watches and protects our family” or “god gave me this gift to help others”. In all reality, what they’re really saying is, “this is what I believe it is”. They don’t know for sure. There’s no guarantee that what they believe is what is real.

When I was eighteen, I used to visit this cute little metaphysical shop. One of the psychics there was holding this two day workshop on developing your psychic abilities. I was invited because I was curious in the paranormal and also because I had been going to that little store for the past two years, ever since I could drive and before I could drive

At the first day of the workshop was this cool hippie looking talkative mom and her much quieter sixteen year old. She talked on and on about how her daughter speaks to angels and how they ask her to help them in their quests and everything. I watched this girl’s mom saying all this stuff about her, being proud to have a daughter who had such a spiritual gift. The girl didn’t talk at all. And even back then, before Demonico, before Angelus, before Xyr, I knew. I knew what they were and how dangerous they were. Yet, I almost envied the girl. When I was sixteen, my mom wasn’t that cool and accepting. My mom just avoided my weirdness and pretended that it didn’t exist. Lol. And all day, I stared at this girl who never looked at me. After the workshop was over, and they left, I gathered my courage and decided to talk to her the next day and ask her what the whole “talking to angels” was about. They never came back and I never saw them again.

Real angels don’t need help from people. If they couldn’t do their job without us, then they wouldn’t be angels because angels are greater and more powerful than us. But, a Watcher, a fallen, would have people believe that they are needed, that they are special. Everyone wants to feel needed. Everyone wants to be special. And they prey on that human desire. Everyone wants to be wanted.

I met a woman by the name of Dr. Morgan. Whether she was a real doctor or not was another story. I saw her reading something about the angel Metatron so I asked her what her interest in angels was. She proceeded to tell me that she was Jewish (as Metatron actually isn’t an angel in the Holy Bible) and that God gave her a gift to heal people.

Now, as amazing as it is to be able to heal people, I had to ask, “how do you do it?” And she tells me that she will be walking down the street and she’ll see someone and she’ll point and say, “you have so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem. You have to take this and this and it’ll heal you.” Those people she points to do have so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem. They follow her directions and they are healed. They come back thanking her for helping to save their lives.

And as incredible as that sounds, I’m still the crazy idiot who have to make people think for themselves. So I say, “how do you know that you just didn’t really curse people with so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem and then cure them because you cursed them in the first place?” Her answer was simple. “Because God gave me this gift to heal, not to curse.”

So I said, “what if the power you are using isn’t from God, but from another source. How could you tell the difference?” She gets angry and declares, “because I’m helping people!”

And I nod and said, “yes, but in order to help those people, you first pointed at random and told them they had something which only you can cure. If you never told them and they never met you, would they still end up sick or would they have gone about their lives never being sick?” Oh, she got angry. “My gift to heal is from God and I know it!” is what she said.

“But do you really?” I asked. “How do you tell someone who’s never known God how to know that it’s God speaking to them or helping them and so on? Couldn’t I just come along and pretend that I’m God and they wouldn’t know the difference? How are you so sure?” Her last answer was, “because I know” and she didn’t speak to me for a while. My point was–how do you know if it’s God or not?

A little old church lady, Miss Addie, once told me that in order to know God, you had to study and learn about Him from the Bible. “It’s the same as counterfeiting bills,” she said. ” There are too many fake bills to know which is real. So in order to tell the real bill from the fake, the people study the real bill so much that they can spot a fake immediately.” And while that’s true and relateable to Christians in the United States where the Bible is widely spread freely, what about people in other countries? What about someone who don’t know God and has never known Him?

It’s amazing how much Christian literature I read and how much of it reads exactly like all the pagan and occultic books I’ve read when I was much younger. While it’s amazing that someone cries out to Jesus and Jesus immediately stands in their bedroom and they become saved…with my experiences and my knowledge, I’d be very wary if that was Jesus or if it was something else pretending to be Him.

After all, Jesus isn’t on earth. He’s not here. And He’s not going to pop up to save anyone. Scripture tells us so. (Look up John 16:7, Mark 16:19, Acts 7:55-56, Romans 8:34, Colossians 3:1, Hebrews 10:12, 12:2, 1 Peter 3:22; also look up 1 Corithians 1:7, 1 Thessalonians 2:19, 3:13, 5:23, 2 Thessalonians 2:1, 2 Peter 1:16)

While it seems unprofitable for demons to “save” people and convert them to Christianity, I question why such things happen and why it would be demonic and not of God. It’s a good thing that people are converted and accepts Christ, right? For a Christian, I’m terrible at my work. I’m terrible at believing. Why couldn’t I just believe that that sixteen year old really spoke to angels or that Dr. Morgan actually has a gift of healing from God? Why couldn’t I believe that the deceased spirit of my cousin who possessed his sister and told his family to go get saved and become Christians as something coming from God? What is wrong with saving people? Isn’t the whole point to convert and save others?

Many Christians will go to hell. I’m sure they’ll be surprised when it happens. Being saved isn’t an automatic ticket to heaven. Most will disagree with me here. Go back and read about the parable of the ten virgins in the Bible (Matthew 25:1-13). Please have understanding. Christians can’t do what they want to do and think that being saved actually saves them to a Just and Holy God who does indeed deal out justice. That is why being a Christian means being ready to die/leave at any moment when Jesus returns. There are many reasons why a lot of Christians will go to hell. Ignorance, mostly. Compromisation of their faith. Absolute rebellion and disobedience. The list goes on and on.

Stop oppressing my faith!” Christians say. “It’s God and I know it.” And then they call me a witch, not knowing I’m a Christian.

Stop being blind and ignorant,” I say. Most Christians don’t even know anything about their beliefs. Faith isn’t blind. That’s something people came up with. People come up with the term “blind faith” in regards to how Christians believe in a God they cannot see. (They also say that love is blind too.)

Faith, it is said, in Hebrews 11:1 is quoted as, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (KJV–all italics mine.)

Nowhere does it say that Christians should walk about blindly believing that everything which seems good to people is of God. That’s our mistake–in believing that what we think is good and wonderful has to be from God or of God. I know plenty of people who shout out how horrible God is and questioning how He can do such terrible things if He was such a loving God. And now, that has to say something too. Christians shouldn’t just disregard someone else’s opinion about God as merely an “opinion”.

God in the Bible is depicted as many things, vengeful is one of those things. Romans 12:19 says, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” (KJV–all italics mine.) Jealous is another. Exodus 34:14 says, “For thou shalt worship no other god: for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God:” (KJV–all italics mine.) And Nahum 1:2 says, “God is jealous, and the Lord revengeth; the Lord revengeth, and is furious; the Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries, and he reserveth wrath for his enemies.” (KJV–all italics mine.)

I can keep quoting scripture, but that’s not the point. The point is that our knowledge and our wisdom isn’t sufficient to God’s. So how can we say that because something we perceived as good happened, that it came from God? Earlier, I said that, “Most demons are in fact, rather useful, rather truthful (to an extent for their own benefits), and rather nice. Yeah, I said it. They’re rather nice as in character wise kindness. After all, being mean and evil and murderous isn’t exactly a popular decision if their main purpose isn’t to kill, but to damn forever so they wouldn’t be alone when all that wonderful Judgement Day thing comes.” And I still stick by what I’ve said.

It surprises me how much people don’t want to know the truth. It’s like Cypher said in The Matrix, “If you’d told us the truth, we would’ve told you to shove that red pill right up your ass.” And that’s how people feel about it. Ignorance is bliss, but to how far will someone pretend and keep pretending that everything’s okay?

I don’t know. This isn’t my fight. I can’t save anyone. I can yell at the top of my lungs until I’m blue in the face, but most people won’t listen and those who will, will only disregard what I say for their own truths. I mean, I get it. I understand. Demonico is incredible and Angelus is amazing and Xyr, well, I haven’t tested him out yet, but he’s proven interesting being the only strangely blue thing I’ve seen (aside from Shaar who is blue, but a different kind)–I understand the entire fascination with all of it. And power? Yeah, you’re talking mega watts of power. Angelus can fry people on the other side of the planet. And Demonico can travel worlds and conquer them. I don’t know what Xyr is capable of yet, but having the ArchDuke as a vassal is pretty impressive. So I totally understand why people would rather choose what they have (or think they have) and not care about their future or their soul or anything else. I’m there with all of you. I completely understand and relate.

And yet, it’s so unhappy, isn’t it? Most of us are alone. Most of us are misunderstood. Most of us hurt and hurt deeply. And it’s sad. It’s so incredibly sad. We’re all so unhappy. Power can’t compare to love. And all the Watchers and all the Guardians and all the Fallen in all the worlds cannot ever fill up that empty hole inside of you.

That is truth. And many of us know it. Many of us deny it. Many of us try to hide it. But it’s still there. Emptiness. Loneliness. We try to fill it with so many things: knowledge, power, sex…it’s just not the same.

 

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The Lesser of Two Evils

Mankind has been dealing with morality for as long as we can remember. Is it right to cause someone the same exact pain they’ve caused us? Is it right to tell a lie if it protects someone else? Is this right? Is that right? Our concepts of right and wrong have been greatly flawed, comparing two evils most of the time and choosing what we believe is the lesser one. So what is right?

The road to hell is paved with good intentions” and “No good deed goes unpunished” are two widely known sayings that expresses our inability to grasp the understanding that our own morality is erred. Our perceptions and perspectives are colored by our experiences and our knowledge. Without an actual unbiased outside view of the entire picture and the knowledge and understanding of what the purpose is of such an event or circumstance, we only see in part. We only know in part. We, as human beings, will forever be fallible for our lack of omniscience.

The fact that we have moral implications at all describes an intelligent creature who has the ability to consider the impact of his/her actions/inactions and of the overall contribution(s) that we can inflict upon the future of not only our own selves, but on others and the world as a whole. Because we are capable of such distinctions as to the concepts of good and bad, we should have some sort of absolute moral code as a species, but why is it that our moral code exists only for ourselves and our self-righteousness?

Trust is something needed to build the base of any and all relationships. Yet, how much information do we each require from someone else as our “right to know”? And why is it that we feel such an importance in someone being honest with us by detailing specific parts of their lives with us when we have no intentions of offering up any sort of recompense of trust in return?

I talk about my life often. And everything I write has to do with my life in one form or another. It’s all me: the good, the bad, the ugly, the crazy, the super freakishly crazy, etc, etc. I’m human. I’ve made mistakes. And I don’t care to hide any of it because people will always do one of two things: they will accept you, or they will not accept you. And for all those who don’t accept me for all and everything that I am–you can always leave. I’m not short of friends in any way that I would be desperate to cling on to anyone who expects me to accept them, but can’t even repay the small favor. With that being said, I actually do offer a lot more information to people than what they really should know anyhow. I see no point in hiding things. It’s always easier to tell others exactly how it is so they won’t be surprised later on–or they won’t pretend to be surprised.

I am always thinking, always looking back, always wondering if I could’ve done something differently to help myself and someone else. I always try to believe in the hope for humanity, even when I know it’s hard to be found. And I will always talk about my friends and the people who are important to me. I do less talking of people that don’t matter and I have a difficult time letting go because I don’t believe that it’s right to just give up on others so easily. When I am frustrated, I often talk about my frustrations without specifically naming names. Just because something is past doesn’t mean that it hurts less or affects us less. And just because I speak about something doesn’t mean it has anything to do with that person in particular. It’s more to deal with the thought processes behind such circumstances and events. Most people won’t even look that far down, but it’s difficult for me to not analyze since I’m one of those crazy thinkers.

The lesser of two evils, right?

I was looking at movie trailers on YouTube today to try and figure out something to watch. I looked up Eden and doing a Google search, have found that the woman who inspired the movie and whose story was being depicted for everyone to see–the survivor of a sex-trafficking ring in the United States–is false. Not only that, but another highly profiled woman who is described in NewsWeek as the “holy saint (and sinner) of sex trafficking”, has resigned from her own non-profit organization which is reportedly helping to free children in Cambodia from the sex slave rings. What is interesting about these two women are that they have indeed done some sort of actual help in raising awareness and providing some sort of support and relief for other women, even if their stories were false and the stories of their “survivors” were also fabricated along with straight up lies to further their non-profit corporations and themselves. Does what little good that these women did get hidden by the fact that they shammed the whole world? We are all people, and I can’t begin to judge anyone for the mistakes that they’ve made, but it’s an interesting read on how the human itself will always strive to further itself along in whichever manner that benefits it. I’m sure that sentence is difficult to understand. In simpler terms, it’s interesting as to how far people–as individuals and as a whole–will strive for what they believe is right and good as long as it benefits themselves.

A closer example to home which was very recent: I spent five years in prison for aggravated identity theft and possession of credit card numbers. Anyone can look that up. Anyone can read what my judgment records from court states and pretty much any document relating to that. Someone can pull up my entire life in records and public documents and such things if they’d like. And then, they can all also make their judgments and say their two cents on my past and the mistakes I’ve made. I don’t care. It’s past. If anyone wanted to know why I actually went to prison, all they had to do was ask. Lying gets on my nerves because I don’t remember enough to lie.

Anyhow, the point is–if you’re my friend for let’s say…a number of years (like over a decade) and we’re good friends, then I offer the information to you anyway because one–it explains my disappearance for the past five years, and two–I believe you have a right to know. If you asked for details, I’d tell you details. If I told you specifically what my charges were, then why would I hide anything else? It makes no sense to me.

A used-to-be good friend of mine that I’ve known for the past almost fifteen years, said recently that he backed off from our friendship because he didn’t trust me anymore. He looked me up and linked the newspaper (yes, I’m in the newspapers from back in 2008 so go look it up) and gave me the link. I replied with, “I already told you that” about what my charges were and how long I was in prison. And he actually said, in his words, I quote: “Yes you did inform me of that. What you left out was the amount that you did. That’s where the trust issue comes into play.

Really?

The entire conversation was absurd in my opinion. I had just agreed on him being right that we should amicably part ways in our friendship and he wants to pull this self-righteous bs on me all of sudden because why?

My reply included: “Trust isn’t about, “I’ve got to share every detail of what I did wrong with you because we’re friends while you don’t offer me ANY information about your life at all”. Trust is a two-way street.” And “By the way, my entire restitution was $175.00 You don’t have to believe that. No one did anyways. But you can look it up all you like. It’s in my judgement papers from court. THAT’S how much I did.

I didn’t even bring up how his particular person threatened to find my probation officer (I’m on probation for three years) so he could try to get me into trouble by telling the PO that I was “harassing” him and also threatened to press harassment charges for my emails of which there was only two, neither one was aggravated in any way, and the last one said specifically these words and nothing more, “I hope you have a good life and whatever is your problem, I hope you figure it out and fix it. This is the last time you will hear from me. Thanks for being a good friend when you were one. Take care.

I didn’t bring up all his faults (and he had many) or the mistakes he’s made in his life. Yet, I find it ironic that he wants to be self-righteous and hypocritical on the whole, “I can’t trust you because you told me you were in prison and what for and how long, but you didn’t tell me all the details about what you did wrong.” Yet, all I got from him about the missing five year gap in our friendship was, and I quote, “I have started a new chapter in my life. Not many people will like what I have become.

Really? That’s it?

Like I said, trust is a two-way street. My life is an open book. I generally offer more information than people would care to know. I don’t expect people to be that open about their lives. But I also don’t expect the self-entitlement most people feel they have a right to know about my life that has nothing to do with them in any way, shape, or form. Anyone can ask. Don’t expect me to be kind in reply when you believe you have a right to knowledge I am offering because we’re friends.

It still astounds me. Not only him in particular and his selfish behavior, but in humanity as a whole. What is the lesser of two evils? The fact that I spent time in prison? Or the fact that it’s easier to always see another’s faults instead of our own?

And by the way, if I’m such a hardened criminal and you’re a bad-ass who threatened me–don’t be a coward later on and claim to have your Facebook and email “hacked” and claim you said none of the things that you said to me. Although I learned long ago that I’d rather let God handle all the crappy people and payback, at least own up to what you did say and have some balls to stand up and either admit you’re wrong, or continue to believe your wrong as right. I’d at least respect someone much more if they had the guts to stand behind their words.

We, as human beings, are so damn judgmental of other people. We feel entitled to their lives and all their failures and mistakes, yet, we defend ourselves with excuses and anger when anyone wants to know about our life, let alone what we did wrong in our lives. I don’t understand the trending culture with, “let’s just proclaim everyone going to hell, but we’re going to heaven” ploy. Does it make people feel better about themselves to put others down? Does it make people feel more of a sense of self-worth to know that someone else is doing horribly? Does controlling someone else brings us happiness? We are such backward creatures!

I guess it’s normal. I have plenty of excuses for people who are horrible to me, but I really want them to be better people so I stick around, trying to see them become, in my opinion, a better person to me. In reality, it’s really shame on me because I’ve compromised myself to believe in something that doesn’t exist that I knew didn’t exist.

A friend of mine, supposedly my best friend from when we were young, mooched off of me for a few years and although everyone else saw it and knew it, I defended her and didn’t believe anyone, making excuses for her because she was my best friend. She didn’t work. Didn’t drive. Didn’t own a car. Didn’t have a phone. I did everything in that friendship.  I bought her a cell phone so we could talk. I picked her up and her friends and took them everywhere. Paid every time with no hesitation whenever we went to eat out or to the movies (which was very often). I’d always call. In the two years that I paid for the service on her phone, she probably called me no more than ten times without having to repeatedly be asked by me to do so. She had no money and never even offered to contribute five dollars for gas our entire friendship, but she always found enough money to buy weed, cigarettes, and alcohol daily. We were both sick like hell this one time and I couldn’t even see straight, but she had no food so I drove to the store, bought lots of cans of soup, went to her house, and cooked us soup so we’d feel better. And she didn’t live close to me. She lived 45 minutes away. She’d ask me to come over at a certain time and when I did, she was 98% of the time not there! I’d wait in her grandmother’s house for hours and eventually, I’d leave because I’d have no idea when she was coming back. I believed in the good in her. She believes that I stayed because of the Otherworld–a place she dreams of that I can jointly enter while awake. If I wanted supernatural crazy power things from people, I wouldn’t care enough about them to do anything for them. I tried my best to be a good friend. All those years, were shame on me too.

I wonder sometimes, how people can just think of themselves. Life would be blissfully ignorant without this over-analyzing thinking thing that I do and I’ve always done it my whole life. Ponder, ponder. See how the human being tinkers and works. My life is already so complicated without the legal stuff on top of it, that I find it weird how some people can just stalk others or how some people can play endless mind games with others. My head will explode. There’s already too much going on in there, up there, that I really don’t have a lot of time for family, friends, and people in general.

Maybe if we all looked inside of ourselves and tried to be better people than we were yesterday, the world would be a better place. And maybe stop with the judging and having to be more right than someone else. I do it a lot–mainly when it comes to magic. I’m just the most arrogant person you’d meet on that topic. I don’t go foolishly challenging people to spiritual warfare. I can simply back up what I claim. A small difference in a way.

All in all, if we, as people, stop focusing so much on others and their faults and wanting to live like the people next door, maybe we can work with ourselves, inside ourselves, and realize that the best option isn’t choosing the lesser of two evils. The solution is to not choose evil at all.

(This post has gone off topic often. The cognizance of each individual human being is spectacular. It varies from person to person and no two are actually alike in thoughts, brain waves, patterns, behaviors, beliefs, etc. If I had more time, I’d be a scientist.)

 
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Posted by on June 15, 2014 in Diary

 

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Things That Matter

In today’s very busy society, we often forget to take out time for things that matter: family, friends, loved ones–but what about strangers?

Reading Rainbow was a PBS broadcast that aired in 1983 and promoted reading for children. It was canceled in 2006, reruns ran until 2009, and in 2012, a Reading Rainbow app was introduced for tablets. Today, Reading Rainbow has a dream of reaching every child and every school through its new web-based browser, funded solely on the support from people like us through KickStarter.com. With this new browser, reading can be fun and educational to children everywhere and the browser will be provided free of charge to cash-strapped schools.

When I was growing up, I watched Reading Rainbow every day. It was one of the best programs that actually read entire children’s books and made it fun. I didn’t have access to books through the library (I was a kid and had no transportation) and our school libraries didn’t stock books that I was interested in reading. My love of reading grew from this wonderful show and it helped me to become the person that I am today: a writer, an author, and a lover of books everywhere.

Please support a cause that matter to you. Mine is Reading Rainbow. If anyone would like to make donations, please do so here at KickStarter. Thank you.

A stranger is only a friend that you don’t know yet.

 
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Posted by on May 30, 2014 in Diary

 

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Illusions

I got a message from a friend today that had me thinking about a lot of things. Not sure how to put it down in words because it’s not anything bad, it’s that we’re all just different in our likes and dislikes and beliefs and stuff. And it’s not just that certain friend, it’s everyone. It’s about who we are and how we are.

I have another friend who pretty much wants me to accept him for how he is: mean, grumpy, somewhat unsatisfied with life, but it’s a double standard when he expects me to be and act a certain way. It’s worse when I care enough to try and compromise because friendship isn’t about changing who you are for someone else. I’m about to be sexist for a moment. It’s like the differences in men and women in relationships. You don’t often see any guy with a less than attractive girl. But you will often see an attractive girl totally in love with a not so desirable man.

I have friends who aren’t even really friends. I have a friend on Facebook who used to steal from me and my friends and twist our words to each other so that everyone would always be in constant battle with one another. I think the fact that she now lives at least half a dozen states away helps with us still having each other in “friend” reference just in case. If she needed help, would I ever help her? Yes. Would she do the same things again? More than likely. Am I stupid for keeping her around?  Probably so.

I haven’t even been a good friend to my friends. I hardly talk to anyone, I don’t participate in anything, and I’m awful at writing people.

Life would be easier if it was like in books and movies. I’d have a better time adjusting to my own characters’ lives instead of the one I live. If I spent less time avoiding certain things and more time focusing on turning all of this into an awesome adventure/fantasy, I’d be the most powerful wizard in all the wizardry world of Harry Potter! *hahaha* What’s funnier is how there’s some truth to that. I really do enjoy the Harry Potter movies.

Books and movies follow real life, and not the other way around. Even in complete absurd fantastic tales of weirdness and madness, real life intervenes because we as people, know only as much as ourselves. That’s because we are only ourselves. Who else could we be?

While it’s true that we could be some Spanish inquisitor during the 1500’s, a Wallachian prince during the 1400’s, travel the known seas in the 1300’s with a bunch of sweaty men and no indoor plumbing, conquer China in the 1200’s, and be a part of the Crusade in the 1100’s–we as human beings have a collective consciousness in a way. Our stories follow our lives. Our gods and goddesses are given human characteristics and emotions. No matter what time period we belong to or what life we’ve lived and are living now–we’re all people. We can’t escape that. We all still strive for fairly the same things–some, more than others and some, to more extremes than others. We all have the same basic needs: love, attention, belonging, appreciation…we’re all just humans. Most of us.

I don’t know. I’m not the dark and brooding type. Neither am I the happy and ignorantly blissful type. I’m just me–extremely weird and not very interesting. And my stories are a bit insane because I am. It’s what I can relate to. So yes, insanity and madness aren’t strangers to me or my life. I just don’t speak a lot about that part because it would scare some people and disgust others and get me those crazy she-should-be-locked-up-in-a-padded-room kind of looks.

As Curtis Armstrong says in TBS’ King of the Nerds, “nothing is nerdier than getting picked last”. The point of that saying isn’t getting picked last, it’s not belonging with the rest and all human beings have felt that way at least once in their lives–like they didn’t belong.

No wonder then why cults are so popular. It’s not about the charismatic speaker or the strict rules or the strange rituals. It’s about belonging somewhere where you matter, even if the part where you matter is only an illusion.

A long time ago, when I was part of a group called Project X, a friend dedicated this song to me. It was a great likeness to who I was, to who we all were, because we at PX, didn’t belong anywhere. We were a cult in a way, because we were like family. We were always together for the longest time. Fifteen years come my birthday in November. It was a few short days after my sixteenth birthday that I happened upon PX. What I missed most was having people who understood me no matter how crazy and foolish I sounded.

VNV Nation’s Illusion and Andy Huang’s Dollface

“Illusion”

I know it’s hard to tell how mixed up you feel
Hoping what you need is behind every door
Each time you get hurt, I don’t want you to change
Because everyone has hopes, you’re human after all
The feeling sometimes, wishing you were someone else
Feeling as though you never belong
This feeling is not sadness, this feeling is not joy
I truly understand. Please, don’t cry now

Please don’t go, I want you to stay
I’m begging you please, please don’t leave here
I don’t want you to hate;
For all the hurt that you feel,
The world is just illusion, trying to change you

Being like you are
Well this is something else, who would comprehend?
But some that do, lay claim
Divine purpose blesses them
That’s not what I believe, and it doesn’t matter anyway
A part of your soul ties you to the next world
Or maybe to the last, but I’m still not sure
But what I do know, is to us the world is different
As we are to the world but I guess you would know that

Please don’t go, I want you to stay
I’m begging you please, please don’t leave here
I don’t want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel
The world is just illusion trying to change you
Please don’t go, I want you to stay
I’m begging you please, oh please don’t leave here
I don’t want you to change;
For all the hurt that you feel,
This world is just illusion, always trying to change you

Please don’t go, I want you to stay
I’m begging you please, please don’t leave here
I don’t want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel
The world is just illusion trying to change you
Please don’t go, I want you to stay
I’m begging you please, oh please don’t leave here
I don’t want you to change;
For all the hurt that you feel,
This world is just illusion, always trying to change you

All my stories aren’t actually about belonging somewhere. The vampire series, yes. Marisa wants a family and she’ll do anything to keep the family she has, even if she has to suffer for them. Other stories, not so. But every story has some truth about basic human needs. Every story, including the vampire series, has to have love in it in one form or another. Love is the most basic desire of not only human beings, but every creature that has life on this planet. Even plants die without love. Don’t believe me? Try an experiment. Buy a plant. Buy two of the same plants. Take care of one. Neglect the other. One will wither and die. Every living thing needs love and every human being needs love.

There is a world, invisible to most. And even them there, they need love. I haven’t quite figured out if that’s just how it is, or if they’re all just playing on human sympathies. I guess I’m lucky in that I am safe. I have always been safe–safe enough that I haven’t personally come across all the things that have proven to be harmful for this reality.

For a Christian, I walk a very fine line in what I believe and how I have to handle my life. My past helps me to relate to others, but I find most Christians less than concerned about their own salvation while trying to save others. It’s a bit amusing, coming from me, but then again, I don’t pretend I’m going up when I’m going down. I’m actually not a very good person. And I’m really mean to Christians–for their own good, of course. I’m not a good person and I often reiterate that. People tend to feel surprised or betrayed when I am less than ideal. I’ve already told you so. You were just lying to yourself.

Which reminds me, I do need to write a certain church lady. And I have two letters to write to people I don’t even talk to, but people who need a friend. I don’t strive to matter in people’s lives. I strive to be a better person than the one that I am right now. And I strive for people’s lives to matter. How do I manage that last one? I don’t even know. It’s what I hope for.

And if I, being completely human, can blend in this much when I don’t belong, imagine all the other things blending in right now that truly don’t belong.

 
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Posted by on May 26, 2014 in Diary

 

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