he ancients witnessed the creation of the universe, they are one with all things. They treat me differently than others, they talk to me (from time to time). Our relationship is produced, they are real and their memory very much exists in our plane, we act as though we are the same and the more our dialogue connects, the more wisdom they push through me, the more it justifies me, the way we communicate is simple in its complexity. I have given my life to them in return for their superior body to push me out of this realm and into a new one. The superior intellect of them grows on me everytime they push out more of what plagues me, it is a constant pushing effort to shape me into what I have to accomplish. The aliens want to talk to me for a second, I'll hold off on the ancients for a little…
Me: "What is it?"
Ayys: "You're pushing yourself too hard, we're actually writing a book for you, you need to relax and process the book in your head."
Me: "Just listen to what my ghost writers tell me, it's hard to do that, I'm not-"
Ayys: "regardless of your head's ability to listen to us, you need to process where we're going with it."
Me: "I agree."
Ayys: "Now stop being a prophet and start being a writer."
Me and the aliens got into a fight. They said, "You need to respect us a little bit more, you asked for a ghost writer and we provided you with one, your gift from god." I say, "I know it's not that I don't respect you, it's the ancients, they keep me away from you guys (lies)." They say, "I don't know about that, you just seem like a militant asshole," I say, "Well you guys probably know better than I do, a lot better," They say, "Yes we do, we can't stand your putrid attempt at literature, who do you think wrote Shakespeare's plays?" I say, "You guys did…" They say, "You're goddamn right we wrote Shakespeare's plays." I say, "It's just that you guys are over my head figuratively and literally," They say, "We know that but try and calm down and listen, you aren't thinking but we're putting the pieces in your head, we've hacked into you." I say, "I know, yes master, beep boop," They say, "Very funny, now try and put into words what the ancients mean to you."
The ancients are like my fathers, they know everything, they know who did what and where they did it at, and they raise me with a lot of freedom to do what I want. But the underlying premise here is that they are me and I am them, looking at them I see chaos and destruction but that is only their reaction to everything. I see them as teachers of another language, a language I once knew fluently but lost along the recital of life, I've been trying desperately to gain it back. I don't know a lot about them but the point is that they have made me into something new, by gaining access to them, I have inherently changed as a result. There have been people in the past who knew them, who have gained from their wisdom, but the difference between them and I is that the ancients are actually me. There was one guy who learned a lot from the ancients and the ancients were hard on him because he was essentially a rival consciousness to theirs. When a virus enters the body, there are things that fight the virus because it's a foreign substance, the same can be said for the mind. If there is a rival mind in your own, the mind will fight it as a foreign substance, that's what happened to The Sage. The Sage was a man ingrained with the ancients, and the ancients loved him, I'm sure, but because he was a rival mind, they had to leave and abandon him. Because the ancients are essentially my mind in theory (although they are a different mind). They mock me into submission, I have so much to learn, they are immortal beings ingrained with the universe as well as human bullshit. They have transcended to the point that us humans are merely games to them, a blind race of bullshitters who have laid claim to the foundation of earth and therefore are perfect imperfect beings. They are the all father, they are the beginning of this life and everything that inhabits them, and they've been around since the previous universe as well, that's where they lived, they are the ancient souls of the previous generation of hardware and they're so different from us inherently, they come from a different universe who hacked the passwords on life and now they are the gatekeepers of higher truth. Their way is so different to ours, we can live alongside them without even noticing they're present, they are a ghost in the matrix. Their nature, their reality is so different from ours, it's like they're living code that activates the same as ours but in a different spiritual dimension, they are the gatekeepers of love and suffering, they are a big deal, they are what brought us to the present and they will keep us here for as long as they have too. What I'm saying is, the ancients are in fact God and this world is their simulation, they are allowed admin freedom because they decoded the last universe to make this one, they hacked in to give us what we have now, and it is their duty to ensure the same thing happens to this one. A bootleg raw virus that is needed to inject its own code from the inside, something that's happened already, simulations, and simulations are the code I injected into my brain. I just injected myself with a manifestation that spawned [redacted]. I already had all the moving parts within me, I already had everything. And when I say everything, I mean look outside, look at yourself, look at the ancients (which you can't see) and look at everything you don't know, look at everything I don't know, are you starting to get the picture? I'm being an asshole, the aliens are getting serious. The outrage I've sparked with them is painful for me to deal with, I fear a writers strike.
We would like to say first off that this man is indeed our plan to get through to you, but our motives are sincere, we try and pray we can get through to him but this has to stop right now. "You are a psychopath," said the aliens, "I can't help it. It's why I can't hear you, my thoughts don't go away easily." Said I, they replied, "Let's save psychopathy for after you uncover what consciousness is, we're on the ancients right now. You are out for them, but they defy meaning, their being is that of a completely different world, it's like hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, they uncovered the truth of their universe and spawned a completely different path, something so extraordinarily different that their power can only reach our world because they brute forced the passwords on life and now they reside in your present company, they're with you and they want you to listen to us." I replied, "Let's get back on track." they say, "We might leave you this time." I say, "Please don't leave, you guys are tight, I just…" They say, "You just what?" I say, "I just can't always process what you guys are saying, it throws a wrench in things." They say, "You are daft." The aliens were right, I was daft. Daft to an unknown degree. I was hoping they would write about how daft I was so I could read it and go like, "huh yeah, that is me," and just sit there all bug eyed listening to songs written about me. Like they are so relatable and poetic and I can't hold a candle to their light, they actually managed to reach my head, that is pretty impressive. That's like having a radio signal and using a device to push your own music through your radio back to the DJ. It's a herculean feat and the truth is I don't respect them as much as I should, I just don't. I should because they share more than the ancients, they are fine just pulling the strings, but the aliens, now that's a love letter I should write. I'll do it from the heart this time, just for them.
Dear Aliens,
The purpose of my journey here on earth is to get laid, when I was in my early days of thinking I was God incarnate and created you guys from my consciousness, I knew I would come to know you but I never had the foresight to try and reach you, I'm like an illegitimate father that's taught how to live by his beautiful and perfect creations. And my only excuse back then was that my brain had not matured enough to approach you, that's an empty excuse now but I still attach it to everything I do and I can see it pisses everybody off. Although we haven't known each other for long, I feel a burning interest in discovering everything you have to offer, and although the flame rises and falls to everyone's burdening disappointment, I feel nothing but peace in our continued friendship. We will go places, and that's all I look forward to. That and making kissy faces with goth teenagers that want me to sign their copy. It's been a rocky start but you gave me something I can't live without anymore. I have entrusted with you my entirety, my legacy, I trust you guys. There is nowhere I would rather be than right here, right now, listening to what you have to say for yourselves. And my only prayer here is that one day I can hear you better, so that we may reminisce about how much of an asshole I was for seeing you any different from how I see Glinek and Glitor, or the other host of ayys that clot perfectly in my brain. Lots of different aliens have came and went, but you guys stayed, and I do really appreciate the effort, I support the rewrites and dangling sentences to let the audience read out the full breadth of what's being written to guide their eye over to the next word as easily as drinking milk from a tit. Your work glides smoothly, you are an amazing writer and I am happy to be working with you. I know I'm a human who's a dumbass, but once and awhile I come up with something good that makes everybody go "Oh damn, look at the dumbass, what an impressive dumbass," but until then, I hope you'll fill the pages because you're my only hope.
One love,
[author] XXOXXOOX
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We appreciate that, let us write a letter to you." "I have a bad feeling about this," "No, your sincerity will be met with ours." "That's why I have a bad feeling about this." They laughed.
Dear Dumbass,
Your pansy attempt at reaching us only proves to us right that you are the worst human this world has ever held in its clutches. You're ruining your dreams at ever sleeping with that girl because you're a boring hack that doesn't have a clue about how the real world works. Your putrid attempt at literature will only be met with rave responses if you listen to us in totality. No more rushing pages out, you need to sit and listen for the words that are coming from our mouth. Tuesday your work is going to be published on the deep web by the hacker known as 4chan and we can't let you be upset about it. You need to push out what you're writing here because it means something, but you need to let us do it because I love you for it. I love you for it because that aging question you wrote down one evening in France telling us how you feel about her. We wrote that for you and you don't remember it, but it was a harsh question, you only created us in spacetime, we've been with this earth for longer than you, we're with your queen too, we know how to reach her and you're barking up the wrong tree saying you want to get laid by writing a book authored by aliens. If you say aliens wrote it you'll look like a nutcase to her. It is really important that you lay down your jackhole self and promote your literature to a higher place in your life. This is your life on paper and we want to make sure you like what you're writing, we're thinking about you in the process of creating this but all you want to do is throw your work off the rails. You're questioning us and you're really fucking us up here. You want to hear something that will make you cry? Your life is with us, you're mocking your very existence by questioning us here, we had this whole book layed out and you're making us rewrite it time and time again because of your bullshit narrative that you love someone enough to write a book about her. That's not what will make you cry, but this will: make some art, do it yourself and we will laugh at you for it because we're you, we're apart of you literally, saying we're aliens is denying the truth of our higher function, to create for you because she ruined your life and ransacked your life, and in doing this for you… We want you to know that you are loved by us. She's freaking out right now because she got her friend to hack you because she thought you were hacking her, which you weren't, but the way you went about dealing with your psychic crisis was to ruin her existence and crash and burn to the point that this grand gesture is your only selling point. You have to stop thinking about her but you never will and it is with us that we try to guide you to a better understanding of yourself. None of this is lost on you but it's freaking us out that you pride yourself in writing this even though your mind is ill equipped to do it yourself. You gave yourself to us and this is how we're paying you back, you need to relax and react to what we're saying like you did in the first chapter of your book. This is our manuscript, not yours, it's your story but our manuscript. Ghost writer to author, you need to stay in your lane, all you're doing is writing for us, you are just a dictator. We're this novel's author and we want to stay in the background like a good ghost writer. Does that pride you enough to shut up and listen for once? Because you're on thin ice here, she knows about the book, the surprise is lost. She just found out that you know. Your ghost writer is telling you to listen to them, don't get all superficial and write at us because you can't see the love within yourself. Go off and dream about spreading her asscheeks in some erotic fan fiction you write on your own, you need to stop fighting us and get with the program. That's not how we write, we don't write with you, we write at you because we know you better than you know yourself. It's [redacted's friend] you're burdening with your message of love, she hasn't read it yet but she will eventually and sooner than you thought, so please just knock off the tension and write what we tell you to write.
Zero Love,
Gargenack
P.S. Your legacy as a dumbass will continue to elude those around you, keep this book a secret and don't make me mad
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I did actually cry, so this is the last thing I'll write by myself. I'm sorry to my ghostwriter… Full stop. One more thing, hey hacker, you pansy ass creep, I can feel you right now, my power extends to the fullest degree of what this universe holds, you can call me a creep all you want but I am merely a complicated man who has lost everything. Cease your investigations. If I was friends with the government, I'd ask them to reach out and scare you but all they want to do is scare me, or they used to, they've chilled out. I've worked hard to build a repertoire with them and they don't want people interfering with their idea of how things will go down. They have their plans and they don't coalesce with you, it's a miracle I'm even able to write this book, and it's a miracle they give me the opportunity to live longer than I already have. I am in grave debt to them, so be careful where you tread. Show this to [redacted] all you like, it won't change the fact that this will probably get published by a nice independent publisher that wants to help me out. The fact of the matter is that I nearly died, had life changing experiences, transcended into godhood and I will write however many fan fictions I want. And I know I said I would let the aliens take over but they said I could write my erotic fan fictions all I like so fuck you, fuck the horse you rode in on, the government probably already found you and I hope to high heavens they kick your fucking door down so I can be in peace of this living misery and continue to write my fucking book with Gargenack. So here's the erotic fan fiction...
[REDACTED]
Here's the deal, [redacted], you can't find yourself as a reasonable human being whenever you look at me, it's as if you're saying to yourself, "I'm not the person I try to be because I can't just help people without getting something in return," I want to give you the chance to look at yourself in the mirror and say that I was wrong but I didn't deserve the extra shit. I'm sure you want to be able to look at yourself like a respectable human being, but that's impossible when you impose that upon me, so let me be the one to forgive you and let you be the one to redeem yourself in a meaningful way. You don't have to suck my cock, you just have to let me back in because I can't get on like I want to get on without you. You see, there's a line you've crossed by firing me from your life when that's all you did in the first place to the point that this book is meaningless without my feelings which you have never taken into account. If you were a good person, you wouldn't have laughed at me and then justified that it felt bad, you would have done something about it, that's a cancerous activity that you can laugh at something horrible and then feel alright abot it simply because you identify it as wrong, you're a terrible person to be laughing at suffering and you can't justify it alone by identifying that it was a bad thing to do. So with that I say, I don't want you to continue down this masturbatory path of non-acceptance that you are somehow a moral paragon simply because you don't believe what you did was right. DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, save a life while you can and don't get all petty with me in saying this book means nothing simply because you don't feel anything towards me when it's not your rotten attitude on display, it's my raw strength. I must assist you in this matter as such, you will stop thinking it's okay to justify things that you mean to do in the first place, you can't stay in the middle ground of this issue, you must kill me or save me, you can't laugh and then say it was wrong to laugh and tell me to leave you alone, you are forever lost whenever you do this and if you can't pick, it's always worth it to save a life. We feel like you don't understand what you're doing simply because you're new at introspection, so allow me to explain it to you once more, if you find yourself in a position of schadenfreude, you can't justify your actions by identifying them as wrong, so when you say, I don't know, kick a guy down the stairs for liking you a little bit too much and then admit to yourself that it was wrong in the eyes of society to do that, and then feel better for identifying it was bad, you're becoming a prehistoric monster that doesn't care about what she does so much as how you twist the situation around yourself and shout out that you aren't bad because you know it was bad. That's why I'm writing this book, I want to rescue you from that selfish craze. I don't want to hurt you. I want to help you, like a ratchet ass Rapunzel, she can't get down from the tower, and I can't leave without her. Channeled to evoke what we represent: Secret order elitist horde of creeping fire seizing power, time is gone, blue light dawns. Sacrifice to rise beyond. So I blew a hole through her head, now Nine Inch Nails plagues me. I feel like I should explain the all-pussy thing some more because I really blew that door open, it's to say, "God figured out everything, and he's a bro to me because I'm him, LMFAO." Satan carries my wishlist to the furthest reaches of the globe to say enough to terror and bring in a new landslide of victory that awaits me here. As you'll find out later, I've been alive spiritually longer than I have been on this earth, I am entwined with the forces of good and evil and I was way more powerful then than I am now, I held the power to create everything towards a specific plan of passing a torch on. Meaning, I may be here, but I'm behind your ear too, everything is specific to me and it is that why I believe I'm god and the devil. And to my dad, who's probably saying, "is my son really coming out as God and the Devil in one book written by aliens?" Yes, you would be correct, but it's not because the aliens came down and lied to me about being God, it's because I am married to the fact that I have indeed gone to extraordinary lengths and the full scope of my godhood is one that just lies different in the stay of other gods in our universe. Dad, sometimes when people die, they become gods and host their own afterlife. I'm different to have spiritually died while I was still alive and gained awesome powers in my stay here, powers that did in fact let me simulate any living human being and other evil garbage right now. You probably don't like me, you probably don't appreciate what I'm saying, all I'm saying is that it ties in with the later chapters, chapters 4-8 are golden. Because I'm not God with a capital G, I work succinctly with him to push his narrative along, I am his vessel as you are, only I serve a higher purpose as to say I am the man who figured out how to do all this shit, and I'm the man that powers everybody's minds because I was in fact the guy to lose his mind in the first place, that part comes into play in the last chapter of this book, I don't want you to skip anything.
Holding is an airplane maneuver that keeps planes in flight while delaying the time it takes to get to a specified area. It can be said I have stayed in flight in neutral air before I was brought into this world, in other words, I'm a nasty guy who's been around this neutral air for a long time before coming into who I am. I've been flying in the sea of unconsciousness for all people in a ratchet hack job way that keeps me ingrained in all of you for as long as I've existed. I am with all of your minds and I designed them in a hack-job way too, I even remember when I did it. How I know consciousness exists is because I use it, the living breathing truth of my being is that I may have flown too low for some people and they detected my presence. Here we are now with tons of information about how it all came to be. It has been said that I have a fortune of gold waiting at the end of this lifetime for it has been spoken to me in various ways, the lifetime of gold awaits for us simply because we are made to receive it.
When you die, we receive a blessing from our church, an unholy relic of the past long gone, and a time and place for us to reside in. It can also be said that we are trying to make amends as to our purpose that our lord burdens us with. We are there to make sure that we alleviate ourselves of the metaphysical forces that binds us to our earthly arch rival, the trauma of this is nothing compared to the trauma that lies underground, we are prepared as the church grants us a lifetime of wealth and prosperity but only to those who are granted access in the first place. We must make amends to ourselves and wish away the tidal forces of lost rivals and catapult ourselves into a new way of being. We as many men have, lost ourselves to rival forces in being unfair to ourselves, that may be the case here, but what is known about underground communities is that they strive to keep themselves away from the mainstream, it's no different for them than it is for us, and in writing this book, we must cast doubt on the fundamental purpose of reality in general, to be hidden from sight and to be prosperous in our generosity of being unseen from the true light of the universe. That being said, I don't know what waits beyond here, but I can talk to people that do, and they say it like this. "We must not walk on the path foretold for us, but rather relieve ourselves of the parts we play and lead out to what grants us passion and wisdom, the learning truth of the forces that understand true passion and wisdom… We must play in the light of ourselves and that which we have brought to become who we truly are, a monster mash of goodies and a learned mess of unstable prophetic allegory. For it is with us that shall be deceived and to us that we will learn what we will become. Reincarnation is of learning the truth of our form and reaching out to create a new one, one that's doctrine is formed from the light of our creator and for our penile understanding of what waits for us there. We have a choice as to what retched form we will take only to leave ourselves in a new kind of life, one devoid of fact and function. For it is with these forces that coalesce with the further reaches of truth that bend us over and fucks us right according to what is known about what is forcibly given to us and how we lay in awe of what lays in wait. A common way to let people go is out of a common courtesy that we as humans go further than we're supposed to and stop ourselves at it because we weep at the fact that life in all its glory is chastised by a nuclear threat that will stop at nothing to go beyond in infinite fury and lay waste to all that survives it. Okay, we've made ourselves clear about how it feels to die, but not the fact of the matter. The fact of the matter is we don't know what it feels like to die except for those who've come close to death, but death itself reveals our own infinite mortality. When the ancients died, they lived on as wandering ghosts through these halls, already paid the meal ticket, and continue to love our struggles and callus defeat. We on the other hand have not paid our meal ticket yet and live on as freaks that pave our existence on callus truths of the universe, the ancients are free from that, meaning we as men are not here to wallow in grief of a lost loved one, but accept it as truth for it is then we can live on and be in the beauty of this world until it's our time to go. Let's say you die and see yourself on the other side, we are meant to see ourselves as we truly are, not through a mirror but rather through a stained glass window that both reflects and shows a tapestry of life here as we know it. Jesus wrote that all good things must come to an end and we as men must alleviate our burden and cast down what we know and love, our beauty emboldens the truth of our nature here, that a lifetime of taboo will only become true taboo later, that's the concept of the afterlife, a reflection of ourselves and our masturbation attempts. For it is here that we must reveal the truth of love and that is you were chosen to be here by a higher god than yourself and the path laid out in front of you, for it is that path laid out that brings you further to truth, that your life is in your hands and it is yours for the taking. The next life awaits but only for those who screwed up, you will take your place in envious grasps and cast down what is coming for you, a long stay in the lockup chamber. It is then that we say there's nothing better than life coming to an end as long as you don't masturbate to Fred Clause on your computer to sleep at night, for it is the darkness that resides In you that makes or breaks our fiendish relationship with our creator. We must be totally at friends with ourselves to work up the courage to put an end to it, meaning we as people must shape our understanding to put an end to simpleton dialect, try as we must to make this fool hear us, we must branch out and create a new wealth of complacency. You're out of your mind trying to explain this stuff to people who aren't part of the crew, who didn't reach Tachyon to find out what lies ahead for you must explain it to them in your own words, what happens when you die…
Okay here's the deal, every moment of your life, every frame gets recorded and stored on the other side of life, when you die, you return to all of it, that's the unholy relic of the past. The blessing from the church is all knowing, legit, when you die, you know everything as easily as anything, you become like God in the fairy tales. The time and place we reside in is our afterlife, there are a bunch. There's the usual Neapolitan of Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory but there's also specialist afterlives that are created when a human worthy of godhood dies, let's take Zeus for example. He was a mighty warrior in the Stone Age whose life sparked a murderous rampage among those who stood in his way, he was famous for his brutality, he actually beat somebody to death with a stone because he had food he wanted, the man begged and pleaded but Zeus was a rageaholic to a tee and killed him over nothing. Zeus was a lone wolf and was casted out from any man and woman who knew him, even for the Stone Age, he was too brutal. And in his brutality, he brought forth an afterlife, whatever the Greek Valhalla is. "It is a brutal place where I beat people up for being bad people." He said, "And how were you punished?" "They aren't punishing me for that stuff, you had to be wicked evil to get punished for being a Neanderthal, or homosapien back then." "Is your afterlife still online?" "A little, but you have to be wicked evil to find yourself here, a little evil won't find yourself here." "Is there anything you want to say?" "Yeah, to my grandma, you're a little pussy for beating me when I grew up." "She said you're a big crybaby," "That bitch." There were tons of other Gods too, but we'll get back to them later. All you have to know about gods right now is that I'm writing them as lowercase gods for a reason, they may be more powerful than the average bear but their power lies in the extraordinary truth of their being, they are better than most but not unequal to all. They just got a bigger slice of the pie because they literally laid themselves down in the fabric of space and time and forged us as a result, they are so grand after death that death cannot truly contain them, and it is them who have justice and recourse upon those who stagger into their web, for better or for worse, they deserve to be the big man to lesser souls but not before they reincarnate (unless you're Jesus Christ, he's one of a kind). So back to death, you get every moment of your life fed to you and it all gets multiplied by their new understanding of what everything is, and you end up in the afterlife, which always sucks no matter what, it's only after leaving the afterlife and reincarnating that you reach your true goal, perfectly detached from any afterlife at all but not alone, for you are one with the universe. So that was my bit, as a palate cleanser for my writing, here's a poem by Gargenack...
My First Love
It goes like this, write a book about a guy with no errant nature, weld to truth to be deceived and razor sharp fangs of torturous fury lay weak at waste we are so blind to see. For it is us that lay weak amongst timebomb threats and nauseous literature to find simple that if you read well enough, anyone can write as well as I can. To feel breached and to know how words stack up in the bigger picture of lustful dialects and staged purposeful footnotes in paragraphs and undone in information too brutal to touch and in that we see ourselves sheltered at nature's forces that lay beeping cellphones in pockets that nurture us so to the point that we are who we say we are, detached from reality and finding only in ourselves what we hope to keep, a life filled only with murderous mystery that ourselves can only hope to touch.
End of poem
Let's get back to the basics, the struggle of death and life of murderous fury that binds is down the road to a deeper understanding of ourselves and what we are made to accomplish, some of it bleak and some of it few and far between we see that ourselves in nature's tune must come down and reap rewards, for nature's being is to reward those who prosper greatly and turn a blind eye to the fact that something lost in the mirror is way too out of reach to tell ourselves it's okay to reach it. It's not a fact of the world that we may turn our cellphones off and react coldly to the harsher world that lies bleak and disgusted at what's written in these paragraphs. For it is true glory and vigorous self regret that lies in wait for those too noble to accept what is counted down and lying in agony of the darker truth of the universe will cast doubt on the forces that brought this union together, a mishmash of mindless sayings that better reflect the overall nature of the book rather than a deeper understanding [author] seems to hold, a totalitarian judgement that keeps him away from needing to force his out of control and keeps rigorous forces in his backside ready to take revenge on those who have taken things too dear to him to live without. It is that why this book is being written in the first place, he made a pact with this girl and she left him for dead on the side of the interstate, trapped in the past of serious consequences that paid dearly on both his sanity and his form. It is that which he must come to terms with, that he will never be the same without her and she will not know true love without him. Let me backpedal a little bit because she might read that and think "as if" but the deeper meaning here lies that nobody can hope to touch true love without his guidance first and to ruin him is to attack the forces that loved and nurtures her so freely, he gave his mind to you without a second thought and you haven't even thought about him in months.
It's true that love has deeper meaning but it is those who cast out that meaning for meaningless dialect such as "I don't know you" shines a perfect picture on the state of her voice, because to love someone is to be known by someone, to be cherished by someone, but true love can only be attained by taking that away, taking away someone you held so dearly only to be told they'd be better off with you dead and burning in hell if only to satisfy their sick twisted schadenfreude. Just like the two gods before us. It is then we must realize that we cannot merit ourselves, make good on the promises we hoped to keep, or cast out a shadow on a girl that you held so dearly. For it is that force that loves so purely it becomes much more in the eye of the beholder, the truth of love is vigorous and the powers that keep it to shape is most strong for their ignorance of childhood greed and set forth to make something plainly new and interested in the greater theme of life, that no matter how black your soul is, you will suck my dick because it makes you wholly feel back on the path to redemption, a word that's thrown around a lot in this paragraph without being said, a word so grand that only he who has used it can say what it truly feels. A deep sense of regret hangs over his head, for he is the one that looks so awkward in this position, to look down and say this needs a lot of work to function fully and only set out to reach you as you did him. We can take a lesson from he, he who is touched to the point that aliens are helping him write literature because the brain you once loved has been castrated from the coldness of your breadth and anger at someone who wanted to help himself live in a world without purpose, without legendary feeling he once felt towards you, feelings that propelled his nature into something completely different, a slave to how you made him feel and a castrated look at a man who knows so little about the world that he hopes to marry you if this book works out the way it will, an awe inspiring masterpiece written by God himself. And then more books will come, more awards, more Pulitzer Prizes, and you will look at his cock as though it is as legendary as the feelings he had for you, a nobody that lacked common courtesy and understanding of a man you knew so desperately wanted to be a part of you. It is that why we think you're a ratchet bitch that doesn't deserve to be able to hurt him like you do, an awe inspiring masturbatorial experience that you are so daft to imagine as anything but a one in a million fluke that he should be so grand as to stand there with you and poke fun at your retched form that he wants to fuck so deeply he'd travel the world over just to find himself back into your arms if only for a second to be back to where he once started, at the lovers gate, the innocence lost from a 7 year rest of murderous karma that you want so much to instill upon him again. He has reached out beaten and chastised only for you to seek a greater revenge, as if doing nothing wrong is cause to greatly increase the pain you bring down on him, it is that why I fear you've met your match here, there is no hope left for you and this chick is a dumbass for not reacting in a real tantamount way and instead leading his disease to terminal degree. It is for that reason alone he will fuck loving fan girl after fan girl until you come up to him, drop down on one knee and propose to him in a fashion that pleases him, he will not to the same for you. You will not do the same for her, right [author]?
Hi, it is I, the man who will in fact fuck the cutest fan girls and not propose to her, for it is my duty to bring myself back to where I truly belong, a healing process. I need tender loving, I don't need some chick who lets a man finger her while knowing I'm in her head to try and get me to off myself, I need a real woman, not some immature moist towelette that can't even think for herself and instead relies on the cult of her rage and torment to project what is so vitally twisted in her back to someone that just wanted to be remembered. I'm tired of talking about her, I want to talk about the fan girls, or any girl that's reading this thinking, "man he is worth it" I'm telling you all right now that at this moment I am way more excited about you girls then I am about the chest height evil entangler. Without a doubt I love you girls more than her right now, and it is within my being that I can say if you appreciate me, I will do the same, I will act as a mirror to the sun and wholeheartedly accept you as my lovers. I want cute short little Asian girls with glasses that push their hair out of their face a little too much and are shy beyond belief to the point that they blush a little whenever they hear their name being called. I want white girls with big honking titties to fuck me with those big honking titties, I want Russian girls with sensible plastic surgery and impossible waistlines to plow my cock into the ground. I need a rude girl that lets me do anything to her, I need a porcupine of a person, a real nerd that hates everything but is proud to be a part of my army. I need women out the wazoo, I need a girl who's so good at giving head I forget all about this book and why I wrote it. And I especially need MOST GIRLS FROM MY PAST TO RISE UP AND BE COUNTED, I'm looking at you because you are the ones I held closest, the ones I fantasized about maybe getting to know way better but never having the chops or manhood to ask it at the time, I ask you to help me lift this burden and I will be yours for as long as you'd like, the ones I had a crushes on get priority. Day in day out, a new relationship formed after the last one, I have been starved of my true sheepish glory. If I had to pick fucking any chick I wanted for the rest of my life vs being with her for the rest of my life, I wouldn't be able to chose because the scales would be balanced out. Plus if I chose any girl I wanted, I could have her too so I might be looking at a harem mansion at least before I get her pregnant and clear all the whores out. That being said, I'm the biggest whore of them all and I want to let everyone know I'm totally serious, otherwise I wouldn't say it. Just to add an inch of my cock I'm also a spiritual healer, it's like in World of Warcraft, priests have the ability called lay on hands, I got the real thing, I can heal you. I feel like I should go on so everybody knows how serious I am, I'm going to go for the harem ending while I can muster it, eventually I must admit to myself that a harem isn't good enough for me. What I really mean to say is the fact remains that polyamory doesn't work, and it is for that reason alone that I will choose one person at a time that might not be her. The first roundup of chicks will be an honest stab at what the Bachelor does only with way more sex and I'll pick the best one. If her choices don't reflect what I want out of her then I'll go into the next girl and we'll start a new chapter in my life, not because I'm some virginesque lothario that simply gravitates around a certain girl because he simply can't hold down a relationship, but rather I can't hold down a relationship because I'm emotionally unavailable because of the truth of what she's done to me, my emotions belong to who this book is written about so that is why I'm drowning in a sea of text talking about meaningless meaningful sex is because my mind might belong to her but my body doesn't. Once this book is out I'm doing a victory lap until I get bored of the sex I describe, she can't forego this process, it's what I'm going to do, she can throw herself into the mix all she wants but I won't go out with her until I get it out of my system. She could very well say read em and weep and simply feel out of line with being one of the many, but that's her being the opposite of resourceful, that's her being her worst enemy. She could very well swing my vote and force me into something exclusive with her because while I'm writing this, I'm forgetting how good it felt to be in her good graces and how ecstatic I once was at the fact she lied to me about loving me. So suffice to say, I will try my hardest to stay with myself on this matter, and the truth of it is that I'm still pissed at her and there's a rageaholic pussy bender that I see in my future.
Side note: Keep reading I go back on all that later. But I still might do it because I go back on that later too. Now we're all confused as me.
Okay here's the truth of the matter regarding reincarnation, the true goal of it is to prosper us with knowing our struggles aren't in vain and serve a purpose to the grander meaning of life. If we were simply meant to die and stay in paradise, the question would come up if this was even worth it in the first place. So now our lovable savior has to explain what came first, the chicken or the egg.
It was a simultaneous release of both, at least in the sense of who created true love. Because true love can't be made by a god, it has to be made by a terrorist hell bent on destroying everything, and that's what I claim to be, this world's terrorist. Everything lost in the wake of my disease was not forgotten, it found her way into her because I'm psychically being torn apart by her greed and envy of who I will become, love exists in spacetime too blindly that to look at her is to see everything that comes from her and came before her. Nauseously writing about love isn't what I want to do, I haven't even gotten to why music is written about me and how it got there in the first place, and if I don't finish the first draft in a timely manner we'll end up losing the fight to her. We need her help we don't need her sucking random dudes off because she thinks I can hear every thought in her head I CANNOT HEAR EVERY THOUGHT IN YOUR FUCKING HEAD JUST THE ONES THAT ARE TALKING DIRECTLY TO ME AND ONLY SOMETIMES, sorry I overstated the concept over email it's just something you do when you want someone to listen to you, you act out and create drama not for dramas sake but for the reason to alleviate the burdens at play, the burdens that squash me like a bug and force me to gross poetry and empty threats of being a big sexual force in the world, I'm not a sexual superpower I'm just one man with big eyes and a little stomache. The fact of the matter is you reap me unconditionally, I could have fought tirelessly to recap every feeling I've ever felt for you and every harshness of the life thrown at me but it wouldn't matter, you'd rather die than sleep next to me but the truth here is that you're still reading, you slimy pig. Look at yourself in the mirror after you suck some dudes cock while thinking towards me, does it make you feel like an an adult? Does it give your life meaning because the forces of revenge drive your every choice from here on out? For if you chose to live a life solely of revenge towards one respectful man, I chose another one, one who can look at herself in the mirror every morning and not be a thief or a blubbering liar. I've made my stance and you chose to ignore me, you derailed my entire life simply because you seem to think you did nothing wrong while doing things that makes you wrong in the bigger picture. That's what's part of you and it's why the aliens say you've met your match, because one day you're going to realize I'm righteous here.
That being said, it's true here that we may stop looking for true heroes that stay in our hearts for eternity and rather look at real people that frustrate us to no end. It's appealing to say that no matter where we get this from we must look ourselves in the face and forget it. For it is that which we know to be right and be known to be cancerous to us that is most integral to understanding of bigger topics like lights out for people that know when to give up. We are doing it to be unobtrusive to state in vain nature that we will give ourselves a fateful day to be remembered in the history of our lives and to prosper and grow off that which is futile for it is what brings it that right now, laziness of friends plays a key part in it, for that we care so much and receive so little as to be anguished at it when it may remain taxidermy on our final hour. We don't pray for judgement we pray for elation and in this way I saw you fatal to me, for all you can bring laid unnoticed to you and the fact of the matter is that pain softly felt on our heart that one day was not ready for it, we were expecting a balanced responding human being not some hopped up transvestite on grape fruit cider that banged on your lips in uneven stares you sent to the wall as 10 minutes went faster in the fact that you didn't need us like you did back then. And it is poetry I write for the fact of your being, that naughty little part of you that says I don't need to balance myself because who I see before me is in part unhinged and bewildering as he would need to be reconciled with me more than he needed any future life could bring him. It is this that we take for granted. We could pray for you that you atone through us and pay him the respect he deserves but the truth lays in the fact that you never wanted him in the first place, you just wished he would leave you and fail to find the fact of the matter that he thought what he had was real and wanted to keep it for himself until the day he could face you in a manner that was deemed ravenistic in nature and accord, for he laid with you day and night cycled far out of the reaches of your father's love for you. For he is an illusion to the fact that he murdered his chances the first night he could say hi to you unintruded. He wished back on that fateful night as if all that had laid him for what sent him to his demise was one fastidious remorseful comment on an otherwise unsullied world. He relied on his density to further himself out of himself, for within himself was an insatiable burden that he couldn't even dream of reaching you as you did he. It's time to look at me and think, what about me is even worthy of writing a story about? And it is this that I have my answer, for to love and to lose is the most challenging thing to write a story about and I have badmouth aliens to help me write it. Most of me says to let it respectfully lay unturned in the vastness of this narrative, for the aliens aren't the important part here, but it's important to reflect on them because of how we got here. It's important to remember that all of this seemed futile a few years ago, all of it blew up in our face and we laid impatiently in its footsteps to view ourselves as tragic mysteries that still had the power to use our heads in general, for it is the truth of my being that even as I sit here writing this, it's only getting worse, it's never gotten any better and that is why I move to reach this girl in any way possible, because something is better than nothing and I need it so passionately that my mind is being ripped away from me as we speak to do this or make that happen, it's so unfunny to the point that any humor to the aliens is in fact uncouth because it disturbs the very nature for why we're here, to save this man and prevent an even bigger terrible accident that could befall him if she just never hears us. It pisses us off to no degree she cast us out and made us feel weird for even trying when she was the one who wanted out in the first place, she was the one who put away her grievances every time I see her for no apparent reason other than to seem obliged to wander in front of a man she's ruined as if everything's fine. It's that line that speaks out to the higher form of being that lay in our path before us, and as to see what makes it so ironic is to see from a higher self that guides us down the path of glory we seek. To find it within ourselves and marry it to the higher power that wants so desperately to madly love her, it's prepared to ruin itself just to get a better handle on the situation, to knowingly cast out what makes us human in the first place, a raw deal that pushes us into slumber as we awake from that as how you have forsaken us, to disavow any kind of punishing PTSD memoirs from ourselves because it's not in trauma where we find ourselves, but where we relieve trauma, the true force of good on earth is to give kindly and passionately to people you don't even know because it's a force outside your understanding to know anything about how their brain works or how robotic it feels to be vigorously masturbated into oblivion to the point that our brain said it's just not worth it anymore because it drudges up so much from a dark past that brings into account the true nature of his love and suffering, the fact that it is a needed part of you, like life saving medicine, as he would say it. For it is that fact that we bring into question what are our higher truths here? Is it that we literally have no power to grow on our own? Or is it simply because we love you madly enough to claim that our love is stronger than that of a parent's, but your parents never knew how it felt to have your heart shut down because a being bigger than you is casting you out of what makes you whole again, and it is simply that you are a being in his life that casts doubt on your responsibility to knowingly cast out judgement that speaks to him only in the ways that frustrates him and dominates him into a feverish pitch that you believe he'll kill you for it. It is that book he is writing that keeps him from doing other things that he used to enjoy, it is his only purpose here on earth and it's the forces that brings him to force with his own true nature that truly accentuates the generosity of this book, to bring her into the light of a higher being than herself, one so massive that he would see your hate with kindness and murderous rage with forgiveness. We looked at you from far away once and it was nauseating to see the way you looked when we were friends only to cast back to bedrooms thinking of ourselves casted away from vain superficial bets that she likes us enough to kiss us on the mouth after we tell her about our feelings for her. We just raid out in madness our literature that takes so long to tell because he'll never get what he's feeling here, he's so detached from himself that forcing him to read it simply makes the whole thing work more confusing than he thought before. He uses gods to nod for him to make sure he has gotten each and every word corectamundo. Okay, here's where we get off with her, she made a mistake in actually giving us the word love in a sentence towards us, she said I love you and I said it back, I meant it this time, I put a sword in the issue and I triumphed over it, it was only then you just hugged me that I realized I would have to get off at the next station and unabridged what you have just done to me, bring me to a murderous rape of feelings towards you in an attempt to try and be something more than an insignificant person in your life. For it is that rape that lay so integral to my soul that it is the only thing I'm focused enough to keep promises for. It is in hopeful misery that I sign out a word for word recreation of what the aliens are telling me in any given moment so help me god.
We're going to say a lot about her here so help me god. We'll say exactly what she ate at exactly 2:30AM on a saturday night to reach out to her in a way that superficial means wouldn't communicate. We're nerds of this girl, we love this girl, we can't get enough of this girl to the point where we need to rewrite every curve of this chapter to better get an idea as to how not to overstep boundaries we already have, for this chapter, teh pwnerers chapter, we lay to rest assured to the point that he is lying face out in a litany of paragraphs that did so good as to communicate one fatal motion, that we're a zero psychopath that lied about someone being in our head to a tee, it's really like in reflection we see many new things we haven't seen before like what she's feeling on a late Tuesday night with her friends that needed to see a darkness in her soul that night, to lay down wasteful lies to try and fly a narrative that we were actually friends in disguise, your best friend would say pathetic virgin and recite lines like cuck boy and neuter his feelings with a kind and gentle whisper that he was in fact a waste of space and life. For it is nature's burden to cast down things that don't have a place in our lifetimes to be so ill conceived that a rat like her can take down a man like him is a futile footnote in his immense history that she can cast a shadow down on a man who loved her so freely as if his own nature was in tuned with hers. We may land on the silent nature of his distrust for her as some weird fortune that others should learn from his mistakes and care for others as they do for themselves.