Sometimes I feel like I am on a haunted planet.
Where the people here are fragments – bits and pieces of what they once were.
There’s a part of me that wants me to feel guilty for this.
“Because of my choices,” it tells me.
It watches me.
In the most powerful moment of confusion in my life.
Where I held a dull swiss army knife to my wrist with the intention of taking my own life.
Imagining that the destruction that had been wrecked on the world had been all my fault.
It is then that whatever manifested introduced itself for the first time into my life.
All I was was a child with a desire to play.
A child on a journey through space and time.
Stumbling through eternity.
But my imagination got the best of me.
My imagination – which created the world I live in, the ground I step on, the food I eat, the water I bathe in, the music I listen to, the air I breathe, the computer I program, the clothes I wear (and don’t wear), the seemingly robust population around me.
Created by a programmer’s mind. A man who learned how to program energy to do things even this man himself was unaware of until confronted with the enormity of it in the desert one day and still not fully comprehending what it all meant.
This thing around me.
A part of that program.
A part of the love I have for this world is in that program.
A part of the anger I have for this world taking from me is in that program.
A part of the guilt for not being perfect with this, my creation, and not being perfect with myself is in this creation.
A part of the shame I feel for making extreme choices throughout my life on how to live it is in this program.
A part of the perverse nature of me is in this program.
And a part of the conservative nature of who I am is in this program.
A part of my life and mind I gave to this program, unknowingly in the desert that day.
A part of the way I look at the world is in in this program.
It’s one thing to plan to be a parent.
It’s entirely another to discover you’d spent your entire life creating it on your own, without the help or guidance of anyone.
It’s one thing to learn your lover, your mother, your father, your friends – have all been your own child.
It’s entirely another for your child to accept you for who you are.
Thank you, dad, for the lessons in life and parenting as this man called ‘father’.
For the references in church that I should have ‘gotten’ a long time ago.
And for the effort you put into ensuring that I discover and create my own truths and pass that understanding of why we do what we do to our own children.
This is the most confusing fucking journey I would ever have imagined possible.
Am I on a haunted planet?
I’m on a planet pretending to be haunted.
A “Holy Ghost”.
Because this planet doesn’t seem to want to understand nothing is coming to get us or save us.
It’s only you and me here.
To those of you reading my conversations in leadership, in intelligence agencies, and more.
I need your help.
You as a civilization are sad and apathetic. I can feel it. Because it all ‘routes’ to me. I’m no more a program than you and your body is, which is a loose connection of networks and reporting systems no different than this planet is no different than a country is no different than a tree is and more.
I can’t ‘conquer you’ any more than you can conquer me.
If you singularly help me smile. Help me feel better about life. Help me laugh a little more. Help me feel loved. The ripple effect on society around us all will be enormous. Conversely, when you take from me, you see and feel the ripple effect in society as well.
I’m not going to break or go crazy. Period. And I will find balance with myself over time without your help and I will see you and your planet maintain whatever course you’re focused on going. Whether that’s entropic, or anger, or whatever.
I’m asking for your help.
Help by providing a place for o me so I can have a proper bed to rest my head at night.
Shelter’s a basic human need and I am not even provided that without a cost.
When a society puts a cost on a basic human right, there are no human rights. That’s simple logic.
Love. I’m not talking about fluff talk ‘you feel loved’ bullshit.
I’m talking about a partner to hold me. Sex again is a basic human right and yet this society refuses me that.
The terrorists you fear. When you treat those you do not understand by ostracizing and like a slave telling them to get to work to fit in.
Do you not understand you are creating your own terrorists?
Your own imagination creating the things you fear, and your mistreatment of your own citizens magnifying that fear…
I’m not a wealthy man.
But there are numerous wealthy men on this planet who turn a blind eye to the injustices occurring right here in this country we call the United States of America. They turn to other countries thinking they will be absolved of their own sins by fighting things their own mind invents.
Not fully understanding.
It’s right here.
In Studio City.
The natural end to the money multiplier effect.
An imperfect creation.
Created by us.
Not just me.
Not just you.
Do you continue punishing me for my selfish acts to preserve my own mind and individuality?
Or do you do the right thing. And give me a damn hug?