"I hear the secrets that you keep, you're talking in your sleep," The Romantics - Talking in Your Sleep.
It's a bastard reason we keep this going, we want to reach her so madly that we uphold our own stay in reality for her to come and find us here. For it is us who must say this girl isn't worth the trouble for wanting us dead and is worth the trouble for the very reason that she must be put down in this way and not be allowed to recover, for it is her who is commiting the true thought crime of not wanting to save something only she can save and it is she who will continue whoring herself out after this book is made available to her for the reason that only she alone knows to be true, that she wants to torture the man who had feelings for her enough to write a book about it, because the truth is we never had anything to begin with and that is enough for her to say it should stay as nothing, but that's ignoring the true picture. That we had feelings for her when she didn't, that we had to stay up at night recounting lost chapters in our life in Portland that pushed us to the very reaches of sanity whereas she had the person who broke her heart back in her life, she had him right where she wanted him and we're left with a reason only to get her back into ours, because she has things to teach us that we're too daft to learn on our own, but it's that notion that pushes this book into fruition, that she's the one with everything she wants except the power to put this boy down any further in hopes to kill us because that's all she wants to accomplish with us, killing us and putting us down further. So why is she worth the trouble of going through this manuscript day by day word by word and finding truth in her stay on this miserable planet earth? Because she's the one that wanted us to go in the first place and we're here to say that was unfair of her to deny us our true happiness for her blank expression and noblest feeling as to say she's just okay. She's looking to kill us so she can feel okay, not to find true happiness, if that were true she would try and cast us out any chance she got which might happen once this book is published, but the Red Queen never cut off Alice's head, Alice grew tenfold and stomped that bitch out and we're here to do the same. Because she wants nothing but release from torment when we want so much, it's as if we're calling the heavens down in her place and pleading with her that the world on planet earth could be better if only they followed the strict guidelines of giving one man that can control virtual suffering within himself can hope to find. For it is that we say, "enough with you and your petty bullshit, you don't want this man dead, you want to find in yourself enough reason to keep on living with him in charge of the narrative, and the narrative is good enough to write a book about," we said we wouldn't go back and tell you who did what and where they did it at, but that was a fast lie in the face of literary agents who think a boring story about heartbreak doesn't have a mainstay on the shelves of literature alike from big boy books about stories about fishermen and sex change operations, because nobody wants to read a book about heartbreak, they have to experience it themselves, it's a fast look in the mirror to anyone that wants to be heard to say that our pinching out of feelings and emotions would look so good on this book that it should be included in the first place and it is to that we say, "have off with you, you know nothing about writing a book to the point that the nature of your feelings are futile in the bigger picture of life on earth in general, you have no staying power here and you want to project it onto me and him because you think heartbreak has no meaning for the masses, when that's all we want to hear about is heartbreak and how that girl castrated us with the war of ideas so heavily that we weren't able to recover," that we did in fact lose to her in times past so hard we almost died and that's why the war of ideas is so deadly at that, waging war on paragraphs and subtexts must be a proven way to win a war so heavenly it's as if god himself said, "this is the only war that's worth fighting and none shall be proven away from it," for it is the war of ideas that shapes us so, it's a war that children could fight with their fastidious ways to give good onto other children and bad children lose because they can't see a world outside of themselves. It is that we put those childish ways into fruition, this man is simply a child in disguise that has been blacklisted by another child that doesn't want to play with him, only it hurts him so bad that he may actually die if he doesn't find other things to fill his time after he's done writing about his feelings into this manuscript and she who will feel follied in the fact that she was doing it on purpose and shouldn't be allowed to continue, she should be burned on the stake and ridiculed like her previous life looked like for her. Because it is her that must come to grips with the fact that she just isn't the woman she sought out to be and in her glory, she failed to miss the fact that the war of ideas exists and she must win it to feel good about herself, but it's an unwinnable battle with him because he has so much context to his meaning as to say, "I lost before but I'm not backing down with you again, because you hold so much to me that it's unfair for you to continue living as you do because the life you live is simply not worth living because you lost so heavily to us that you will never recover until you agree that you have lost this battle only to fight again and recapture what women crave so tenderly, to be on top of men and not to lose to the patriarchy which exists only as a concept of the war of ideas says so, that the patriarchy does in fact exist because we can sit and smoke cigars with our comrades saying that life is more meaningful as a man than as a woman simply because women exist to ridicule a man that tries so heavily to be with one in the first place, that being with someone is in fact losing the war of ideas and staving off any superstition that we turn back and eat our cancer into saying that we can't live without her and will not face off against her again until she comes back with a diatribe that suits the situation, that she must look his cock in the face and proclaim it is legendary in stature and form to be so caught up in one person that we would come down from space just to get this kid killed and laid in the process of revealing life's nature and form to a point that it's pointless to continue only to suit her further, that we may cast her out in a form that is pleasant to us, in a way that says, 'knock off what your doing for the fear that it may and will bite you in the ass later, to say enough to him is to say enough to what makes us human in the first place and can't be replaced later, if you tell him to fuck off you're telling yourself to fuck off in the same way that Robert Friedman told us to knock it off when he heard us in his mind that one day in February that some kid would come down and change everything forever and not be advised to look further that to what he already has only to think back to a past where he had everything changed for the better, for to look at what he already has is to look life in the face and say it has no meaning only to propagate further meaning in it's stay, that life has no meaning without her simply because she took everything from us so deep into the future that we'll lose the war of ideas to her again only to further amend the wrong and propagate a further truth in the process, that as soon as she turns her back on us and accepts that her life holds so little meaning is to lose in the process of elimination rather than to the fullest extent of our laws that society holds so great as to put it on a pedestal and remain as a run-on sentence just to see where this leads, a great process of literary imagination and forgetting where the first sentence left off just to end it here and explain everything outside of the paragraph structure.'" For it is us who have seen her evil ways to the extent of her being and her laws that we may sit here fiddling with ourselves coming up with a suitable response, but we have had so many good ones already that the point has already reached bookshelves and readers alike that say, "to hell with life, we just want to see this kid get laid because he's uncovering the secrets of the universe in a way that makes sense as a greater whole rather than speculating that God exists only to grant us suffering and tell us to fuck off because he has a whole better world in heaven he needs to attend to and it's best off to stop this paragraph here for fear of getting trapped in a pinch, that life needs a greater meaning to be accepted in the mainstay here."
It is with this we say, enough with tired paragraph structures and put me back to where I once stated above, that life has no meaning if we're not ready to accept the meaning within ourselves, that we are temporary beings and we are put here to make sure that we are so tormented to the degree that we can only be seen as a clod to her and it means so little to her that we're writing this book in the first place, that aliens from outer space found meaning within this literature to a point that our minds are blown by him like he has blown so many other minds in the past, that we are here to reap havoc and not go down in history as some pussy who couldn't do anything about a little girl with cheap vengeance enough to not think that she should dig two graves in the process of gaining vengeance in the first place, that vengeance takes more from you than it does the other person that this author writes, "enough of you and wanting more out of us, for we have granted you so little as to the testament that you are the one who must change yourself before you are ready to be helped, and because you lack the ability to do it, you are unreachable to a degree that this book is only a novelty to you, but it is a lack of fear that drives you into the far recesses of this masterpiece, that we must see to you in a light favorable to your enormous ego just to see that is it an enormous ego that you mock us for even thinking about doing this in the first place. For there is no greater point than we have already made, but we keep going down this road to see your true face, that you are in fact a person who is such a disgrace to him that he may write countless rough drafts of novels just to propagate the furthest reaches of what he's trying to do, reach you in a way that's suitable to the subject matter here, that you are so daft as to believe that you can't just read a book for what it has to say and instead look at the subtext of the book that says, "you just wanted to write it to be famous and not because you loved me," for it is true that he wants to be famous, but not so famous that he has to cloud his judgement about you to further sales, that he will reach you in a way that only you can comprehend is to say, "we're happy if you just read the whole thing because that will prove us right," because it is to say that we're here to write for him that is to say, "there is meaning here in this book and it's pages and it will be so far out to write about you that there's no point in continuing this rough draft, it is already complete and will continue to get snores out of people who just want us to make a point and beg us to get on with it," but it is you who must make a point in this chapter because we're falling off here, we just want to talk to ghosts and spirits and tell you what they think of you, but you already know, you've read it before. So it is that we say, "have at you, you are so blind as to not read into this book further than you already have to find meaning in the fact that aliens are done trying to forge together meaning," because that's not what life's about and instead you must take to pen and paper your response to us as we go on and think of other things to write about, it is with that, we must tell you what this chapter means to us and the title of it projects what we mean to say, that guilt is meaningless in the war of ideas just as fear is, it only belittles and robs the war of ideas of what it truly is, a war in meaning. If you feel guilty, that's just a personal benefactor, it's a masturbatorial gift that you grant yourself, so if you feel guilty for leading us down this journey, it's only self serving to the point that you really are a cat in the vision he had that one time, daft to the meaning of life, you just want someone to pet and scratch your back with literature to the point that you feel satisfied with your bland understanding of life here on earth. That you are the one for us and in feeling so daft as to think you're anything more than a cat on planet earth that just wants everything to be handed to her, we say, "for what? What have you done that is so spectacular besides taking Sam Hyde aside and saying his reach wasn't big enough for the two of them because what you're really thinking out of men is, 'how can they cash out enough to support the two of us to the point that you're done with actually thinking of this man as a lover and instead of what his book sales numbers are.' for it is then you see the true form of your being, a cash digging gold digger that only wants to support herself without working to the point she doesn't pay rent and touches jewelry to get herself fired not on purpose but because she secretly wants to get fired as an excuse for not wanting anything more out of her life than things being handed to her in the first place." You got a nice car which you crashed into the dust, a meaningful stay here, but it's so hard for you to give back what you have that you fail to see the point in that song, "Dust in the Wind," that when you die only those who have known your brilliance will say to themselves, "damn, I miss her because of what she used to do when she was alive," and that was to be a cat person living in a disguise, you find yourself gripping your head wanting to die because there's not a man alive that will suit you to the point that you stop being disgusted by yourself and think "he's the one" not because of his hair chest and miniscule features, but because you see in yourself something that's worth being given, and it's because of the fact that you don't have anything that's worth being given is an excuse to live out as a cat and just want to be pat every once in a while because that form is suitable to a girl with so little passion on this earth that she's willing to go far beyond to castrate a guy who found meaning with her to begin with, because that was a divine notion he had rather than a catastrophic feeling that pushed him into the pit of disparity. That you will never have been there that time when he heard your voice to the point that it protected his heart from getting strangled and emasculated because you secretly don't want him to die, you just want him to write a best selling novel entitled to you to see in yourself that you do have meaning here on earth and are not a lone wanderer into the minds of many. So it is that we say, "we found life in this chapter," that you would be so heavenly as to read it and tell us what's on your mind to the foundation of why you're reading this book in the first place, that you are callous with him in a way that incites this vengeance in the first place. That you would be so bold as to wage war on yourself and smash around your room because he got away with something you thought so bold as to write a book about nothing that happened to you, but everything that happened to him. It's so vigorously evil to say that nothing in this world that other people see has meaning simply because you can't find love by yourself and need a friend to drive you too it alone in the car one night when you said you were best friends and nothing was going to tear you apart, only to have your car robbed by the girl who thought you were so special as to put vienna sausages in your car only to have them robbed in your place. For it is you that is so special to want vengeance upon a man that is trying so desperately to gain your affection in paragraph love letters signed to himself only, for that is the truth here, that he is not a cat grasping at affection, but a rat running from true doom and terror that you have brought upon this weirdo. For it was your friend who robbed you blind that day and a friend indeed that showed you the true path to glory isn't to wield restraint around a man that emails you everyday, but a chance in paradise for what he craves is simply to be a cat and gain affection himself. But not until after becoming a rat and seeing what plagues him so heavily as to cast out the glory of wanting the torturous pain of animals to stop and instead recant what is being said here in the first place, that we love you to a point where we can't bare to see you leave and wanting nothing more than to stay in your life as a peon rather than a legendary cock of a man waging war on what waged war against him in the first place. To write this book is to act good on his nature to bring about war on the people who have looted him into oblivion, and saying I'd rather die than give that girl the satisfaction of reading our death in the news and laughing blindly at the fact that he really was fucked up over you and to live without you is a reason to kill himself ten times over only to reincarnate as a dude with boobies galour and not wanting to make a stay at true love and rash feelings, to find himself in the wake of torment in writing this book that aliens give himself so tenderly it's as if he has come to life and embodied Shakespeare for all that will come in his way from now on, that he in fact seeks truth and wisdom in the fact that he did write this book all by himself and doesn't need our help anymore, because he can see the truth and form of his work better than we can now, so why don't we let him explain to you how he feels about the truth of your being here and your stay on planet earth?
I have to say, the aliens really know how to guide me on this one. When I first started writing, I had no idea where they were going in the fever pitch nightmare of not knowing where this writing started and where it's going to end, but it is I that must see the bigger picture to help the aliens out in knowing where to go with it, for it might be them who writes it, but it is me who must find meaning in the writing. So I'll say this to you, [redacted], if you seek to truly kill me, you wouldn't have done it so half heartedly, it's why you're losing the war of ideas here, you seek from me to do something about you so you can respond in a heavenly way as to get me arrested and seek further harm from a man who has admittedly ruined his relationship with you and your family to seek to save you rather than see you lay alone with some creep that only has awful pillow talk to guide you to sleep every night, because the fact remains that you won't get the satisfaction, I will. I will see to it that you lose every meaning in your life only to come crawling back to the man that you see before you, because it is you who has lost the war of ideas here, I thought outside of the box, and aliens came to save me. You think vengeance is something you're permitted to do simply because a boy catches feelings toward you, and I think I've lost the point here, so here it is. You doubt yourself so heavily as to cast that doubt onto me, that loving you in any point is wrong because you have not found a way to love yourself, because the truth of the fact that I love you is only self serving because you can't find a way into yourself, you only seek a way outside of your grasp because it is one of such hellish fire that you truly can't live with yourself to the point that you need to put others down to fulfill the notion that you are right in leaving yourself, that you have no meaning in the mainstay of life simply because you are nothing to us, you are but weak flesh in comparison to my true path and journey here on earth and you will not cast out brilliance at this book, you will simply see me as a loser and a child for attempting to write to you in a way that you will actually feel my grasp on the world and be reminded of what a child you are, and you are so terrified by it that you run away when you should have run in and accepted me, you will have nothing to say and will only return to the nothing notion that you will in fact win by saying nothing, but it is saying nothing we see the true form of your heavenly beauty, that you see this war unwinnable at this point that you say, "if we just suck his cock we'll be redeemed in this world." Because we got the book published, we win if that happens. So heavily that you'll never be able to show your face in this town again, and it is there the aliens and I want to share something with you, that our words are meaningless without your approval. That even though we may write, we are meaningless without the cat that the pyramids need to survive. The brain worm inside cat's feces connects them with the all knowing eye, that they are in fact brilliant enough to be able to change brain chemistry in a way that makes them adorable, and it's that what you have done to me, you have changed my brain to make me think you are right when all I strive to do is survive this terrible atrocity of a world that you yourself and I have created only to prove a point that you are wrong and we are right. For it is in our struggle that we find the greater mainstay here, that you are meaningless without first waging war in the first place, that you can be so graceful in your approach that you may write another book to us that will explain that you catapulted yourself into being who you are simply because we were weird to begin with, but that's such nonsense in ignoring the truth that we got it made now and nothing is going to change that, you can laugh at the past only to ignore the future, that the future is made for me and my kind and we will so callously laugh at anything you send us because the bigger it is, the more heartbroken you will become that only by agreeing that we were right to be a creep in the first place because we were heartbroken to the point of it is more meaningful than being a creep that hides itself from being a creep. That you may laugh at the suffering of others while suffering immensely yourself, as if suffering is some indicator that you're doing something wrong inherently to the point that you're suffering in the first place, when it is not suffering that determines that, but how you suffer and how you live your life. You see suffering as a catastrophic waste when the truth is, none of us can dodge it to the point that Buddha thought it was fruitless and just made himself one with it. Because in suffering, only more suffering can be found, and it is that lesson that we take to you, that you may be so daft to the purpose here in this world as to say other people's suffering has no meaning when we have proven that it does. People's godlike suffering brought the planets into orbit, that we may be so manly as to put the sun into orbit just so it can see what's going on within planet earth and hold so beautifully the light of this planet in the first place. That we see it through that false narrative you push through that because you experienced nothing with us, we are in fact a nothingness. You are so feverishly wrong it does keep me up in frustration that you can't see the folly of your ways because you aren't a cat but a person with a mind to comprehend the fact that we are not a loser for suffering over something that has brought us such passion to write a book about it, but rather forego the narrative that you want to push out that we are emasculated to the point of emailing you. That you can't hope to lose to the point that even the Devil had to intervene just to tell you that you meant something on this earth to begin with, that you are so daft and awful at the way you're living now you might never move out into your own apartment because you can't see the purpose in working because you can't see the purpose in doing anything besides fucking off and trying to kill me. Now all of that is important but it's not the point we want to illustrate here, what we really want to bring to form is that you as a lifeform is so blind to the point that a book needed to be written for the purpose of finding in yourself a lifetime of brilliance from one man in particular, that we may tell you to suck our cock to the point that it seems futile in doing so, but in telling you that important part, we say enough to your vigorous ways and accept fully that you just want to be apart of something bigger here, and in being big you must see yourself as you truly are, captured by the bloodsport of this book to the point that you must be crazy not to reach out and tell this guy how you feel about him, for not doing it is denying your true stay here on earth, that reaching out to any other man will only emasculate you further to the point that you know what you're doing and want so heavily to act out as one with yourself that you don't even see yourself in the furnace of our love here, because to not see yourself as something that's worthy of being wanted is to say that you want to be wanted only in the way you see appropriate to what you see in yourself, which is nothing worth wanting in the first place, so why would we write a book about it? Well the answer is here, that you are wrong about yourself to the point that you do have meaning and cause to say to yourself that angels will circle around your head and tell you to reach out for him only for the devil to agree as well. It's a cathartic act to reach out to him because it is to reach yourself and what you want out of him as well that drives you into fruition with him. To want him is to act as you have something worth giving in the first place, which you have beyond a doubt, you just can't find it without a man that's willing to reach out beyond the pages of this novel to say that he never had a doubt in what you had to hold, but how you were holding it, unabashed in the way that whatever you had was meaningless only because you had it, but what you have is powerful to the point that we're being nice to you here because we want it. For it is that who has had it with you to the point of reading this novel fully that can truly comprehend what we're trying to do with it, which isn't solely to reach you, it's to reach us as well, because we need to be reached as human beings and not as a soulless atrocity that lays to rest only their petty emotions, but honest strife and torment in the process of coming to form that it was you who lay so peacefully to sleep at night because you truly don't deserve that luxury, you who has forgot about herself and lays peacefully in the night only to say what you did was right and that man deserves to die simply because he has a cock and not a pussy, that a man cannot love purely because it is in his nature to do so and instead must have some ulterior motive to say that he'd actually die without you. For it is he that lays in the fire of his bed at night while you have so many lovers that you yourself can't keep because you can't find within yourself the capacity to love, so no one who actually loves you can get in your way long enough to say that you deserve to be loved and not to be reached in a bland otherworldly nothing notion. For it is nothing that you reside, it is nothing that makes you weep that your life is purposeless without men who also don't find purpose in you, that you are so unworthy of being loved simply because you can't find it yourself, because the truth in your statement to Sam Hyde was indeed losing the war of ideas to him, that although he may have a small and limited reach, he is so brave as to put himself out there in such a powerful way, to brave the onslaught of teenagers telling him he's a bad guy, which might be true, but not to the torturous degree of him putting you actually in his book to say he won the war of ideas against you simply because you brought it up in the first place, someone with no fortune bringing down someone with limited fortune simply because he had a cock and wanted to please you with it. You are a broken down hack of a human being and it is only because we see ourselves in that that we love you, and it is that why you have broken us, because we see you are broken and love you for it because we are broken too. That might seem to lose the war of ideas here, but we are not broken anymore, and in being fixed we only move further away from you, your time is limited to stay with this man, because I feel like going back on what I said again and fucking teenagers that love me in a way because I am so wrought with glory as they are themselves. As we get less and less broken, the truth is, we see less of you in our minds, only when we see ourselves as broken must we live with you, and that's the history of being a creep that comes in. That we are so broken as to write a manuscript only to see that once we are fulfilled, we have no meaning aside from the fact that we will remain partly broken always and always seek you out not because we are broken, but because we are true to our broken nature that will never change. The fact of the matter is that as I am imperfect as a human being, I will always love you because of how I am imperfect, and you fit in the puzzle piece that drives me to a heavenly manner, it's as if we are the second coming of Christ coming back to see to it that you are both a rageaholic and a martyrous freak that needs to be stopped before it is to late, before you marry a guy not because he fits perfectly with you, but because you see nothing in him and he sees nothing in himself. For that is a foolish way to have a baby and start a family built off nothing, you will kill your child in a murderous freak out rage and drown him into oblivion simply because you know I'm right and you're wrong. So don't take your petty rage out on me and accept blindly the truth that you might have a family away from us only to prove us wrong, because that is losing the war of ideas so heavily that you may never recover and be sent to the psych ward, locked up forever and poked fun at by doctors who have read the book and seen me rise to such meteoric fame out of the falsehood of you that you would want to punish yourself so greatly as to take a pill bottle and kill it just to see what's waiting for you on the other side, a reminder that we were right about what we said in our book and a lifetime of hell awaits you for killing that child and laying waste to yourself. For it is your friends that say we are meaningless simply because we're writing the book in the first place, and your father that wants to beat us up for simply wanting our cock sucked to come to terms with the fact that we are all imperfect creatures on earth and simply wanting to get attention from her isn't to go against our instinctual nature, but to act indifferent to it is. For it is with her that meaning can be found so exponentially beautiful that we would have to make another book explaining the essence of man and it's infinite stay here in all it's brilliance that we must say that the fastidious liar in us must do harm to her in order to change her future in a way that suits us. For it is then and only then the puzzle pieces fit in perfect harmony and accord that we see in ourselves the greater life of nature, that we are brought here to bring love into function and there is no other way to do it, that the suffering must come into play if only to find true love in these god forsaken halls. For it is life's purpose to bring to light that which we want so dearly, any other way constructed wouldn't be able to withstand it's awesome presence. It is with that, we bring our chapter to a close, in saying that any being that would deny love would be to deny the presence of what their soul joined the cause to begin with, a piece of the pie and an eternity in it's contextual glory.