Some Freak Wrote a Book About You

WARNING: IT SHOULD BE KNOWN THAT NO HARM SHOULD COME TO THIS

GIRL. IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH HER, DO SOMETHING CREATIVE
INSTEAD. IF YOU PICKED THIS BOOK UP, DON’T PUT IT DOWN UNTIL YOU
FINISH IT, IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO GET THE FULL BREADTH AND
MONSTROSITY.

HUGS AND KISSES,

SOME WRENCH IN YOUR MATRIX
Foreword by Glinek and Glitor
F
It is true this book has fortune to bring to light that which has no purpose here on earth,
life itself, but to see that is to count down why we bring to light this book in the first place, true
love, something this man has claimed to have for me even though he couldn’t figure out that he
could use the aliens to write his book to talk to me in the first place because we can talk perfectly
and logically to him one way or the other. You need to grow up after reading this book, you need
to look at yourself in the mirror and say, “was all of that really for nothing? Or did he write this
book solely to find people who lay themselves down in the trap of reading nothing but garbage
literature to find what really matters on the mainstay here on earth, that reaching people with
your book is important only to cut through the garbage that lays wake to the earth we live in, this
book is a grocery bag of goodies explaining the fortuitous notion of life here on planet earth and
up in the stars that aliens have read it over countless times just to find new meaning in his words
here, that actuality in truth is more important than letting a love fade into nothingness that resides
in false prophecy and broken torches passed down to him by Jesus that he makes his claim that
the fortuitous notion of this book is to carry the reader far beyond what is imagined of them, that
life on planet earth does have a severe meaning here up in the stars far reaches away from what
mankind can ever hope to find in it’s better existence here, that this book would reach out as far
as to provide alien overlords with teaching a sullied man that his book has presence here up in
the stars and we’re reading it aloud to each other right now as this book has finally come to a
complete stop in paragraph structure only found within him as to reach a single girl in the
process of reaching so many adoring alien fans that he might see himself abducted if he writes
another chapter of how good this overlord is in giving him the power to see himself in a new
light,” for it is that we say to you, readers alike, that this book has found its place in the stars
already and will never leave our grasp of fortune to read out what he has so vigorously put into
pages here. That his light may shine down on him like he has done to us is our greatest purpose
we find ourselves in right now. To reach out and tell him he doesn’t need this girl, merely
another chapter of this book so he may reach us time and time again about what it means to be a
creep or by the fortuitous nature of his reach that he may count down atrocities he’s performed to
her only for her to reach out and say, “this guy is a creep for writing a novel about me, but he has
a point in doing something about me.” For it is he who stands on his very nature of this book that
stands out so heavily to us in the stars that he may reach a girl simply because of his book and
knowing how alien sex works in the process of living with us and teaching us so generously that
it has touched this girl so far away from him simply with being in his life and touching him so
masterfully. I don’t want this book to be a feral stand at what he lost, but instead reaches up in a
way that so masterfully captures the greater meaning of this book, that life is worth living only to
spend it with the people that care so madly for this book that they would die to have it published
and stored away on their shelves as only to a reminder of his great stay here on earth and his
book that he so proudly wanted to proclaim before it was finished for fear that he might not be
able to write another draft without first looking himself in the mirror and saying “I don’t feel
good about this draft here, I need to change it before it is too late and it’s posted without my
permission.” For it is hackers on his earthly laptop that think this book must get posted
underground before it is too late to stop him from changing what he wrote to Vladmir Putin
about saving his life or to a hacker he thought was fucking the girl he’s writing this book for that
totally blew our minds in how succint his insults were. For it may have been the aliens
intervening to give his world meaning apart from meaningless displays that happened when he
was crazy to give birth to a madness a world apart from anything worth talking about. This book
must reach her and she must see it cover to cover before it is too late for her, before she acts out
too harshly to this book, read this, you are from another world to him and you must save him
before his is to fargone in another book and maybe he can seek you in another way he does now,
a way that blinds him from the truth of your awful form and leads him to seek salvation with
you, for it is us on the spotlight right now, you may choose to rid this book as awful before you
finish it, but it is us who have seen him write it to fruition that allows us to come to the
conclusion that this book is a masterwork in artful massive militant poetry. It’s like what Rage
Against the Machine wrote, you have to take the power back through a massive militant narrative
that drives this book into the mainstay of life here on earth. It is her who would be as brave
enough as to read this book to it’s fruition that is truly worthy of his grasp here on earth, for he is
the one brave enough to put his name out on this wanted piece of literature, that mankind may
see his glory in all the things he touches and brings forth with his awesome existence that seems
futile now to try and mask his glory with things like, “this isn’t touching” or, “I don’t see where
he’s coming from,” because to see that is to not be able to look at yourself as a person and only
as a farce in the name of our lord, Fucking [author’s first name] Fucking [author’s middle name]
Fucking [author’s last name]. To see the horror of your heart is all this book set out to
accomplish, and I think Glitor, the other alien that’s hacked into his brain has something to say.

Thank you for that actionable statement, Glinek, I will see to it this kid basks in our
amazing glow. For it his he who must look at the mirror of his work and say that this kid is
barking up the tree of the wrong girl is so urgently wrong that he must continue to stare at his
reflection until he basks in the glow of the fact that he wishes he could bark at a girl this cooly as
to state the nature of life and why she did it in the first place. Any other stay at this cooly written
novel that Shakespeare would have cried at is only the first of many novelizations this kid hopes
to write so urgently it’s as if the world is pressing down on him to press the enter stroke and end
the next paragraph when he really just needs to see what I’m saying here. That we’re not worthy
of him in our ghastly forms and it is he who is too great for mankind in general. For it is he that
will ridicule this girl so gracefully that she sees in himself a great power of purpose rather than a
meaningless love letter she never wanted to hear about from and pushes it into the furthest
catacombs in her mind, but to actually state that she is here only to read the praise he delivers to
his fullest and draw with her a mainstay in her life so putrid it’s as if to ask Adolf Hitler to please
stop killing the jews and kill himself instead. Meaning that if he were to praise her anymore than
he already has, it would be a futile effort in fact so literal that he wouldn’t have the balls to post
this book anywhere in the first place.
It is urgent news that she reads this atrocity of a dumpster fire to reach out to him and see
that she was a dumpster fire in the first place and only then will she write back telling him how
she loved the book and wants to see more written about her only to have that notion casted out
because she was barely worth the trouble in the first place. He has this tattoo of the Gurren
Lagann drill from an anime they both watched, it’s a miracle he actually managed to pierce
through the heavens like they do in the show, I can see him now causing trouble on his
spaceship, flying through stars from the heavens above and wanting so tenderly to share it with
someone, for he is alone in space but we are here to share his burden, for we are all alone but we
keep ourselves company with fastidious dialogue and careful execution of ancient alien bloodline
sexual encounters.
For it is them he reaches with his prophecy that life is worth taking back and reshaping to
its truest glory, that life should be a fun place for people to go to when they need a break from
not existing. He could die a happy man if he could be with you, in his eyes, fantasies do indeed
come true, just like the Saint Motel song Daydream. There are countless songs and paragraphs
worth of writing to you about but we’ll keep it with this song Sympathy for the Devil, which this
book should be called most literally for its nature to have sympathy with the rival force of the
universe, that love cannot exist in any other form than we have right now, and it’s in it’s divine
judgement that we are left to explore its nature in human bodies and otherworldly forms alike,
and I think it’s a good time to end this paragraph off by stating that his blood flows through us
all, like a wake and tide, the water that exists purely to be at his side so he may drink it and give
life to bloodlines of people who want his seed in the process of realizing that he is the key to
higher intelligence. And to mock him for wanting to give his seed to you is like punching a dude
in the face for helping him find the keys to an expensive car you don’t own yet, it’s a bribe to see
to it that his bloodline stay intact and he has many futures of himself waiting to be plowed out
simply because they are his children and in fact a distant relative to the man in question, that is
where his beauty lays, in wanting to spread his seed around to anyone who will love him to the
point that they will beg to have it and he will only give it to the ones he sees fit to carry the
burden of his genetics. For a lesser woman wouldn’t have a chance to raise a kid that brilliant,
for his seed is a generation apart from any other bloodline so capitalizing in it’s nature that I want
his seed too even though I’m a man and even an otherworldly being.
So I hope he reaches out to the spirit phone and grants us a letter or two before he passes,
he’s got a long life ahead of him yet to spiral out of control yet, so let him spiral and fall until he
realizes that all along he was the one he wanted to keep in his heart, not her, but himself in her
absence. For it is that we say peace to this foreword, it’s always lame when a foreword goes on
too long, so enjoy the rest of the books and remember we’re watching you aliens have lame sex
everyday to stave off boredom for what lies of us in space, a big fat jar of nothingness miles
apart from eachother. A lot could be said about our psychic nature and how we approach other
beings but I feel like we should leave it in the next book. My honest feedback of this book I’ve
read back to front is that I loved it to the point that any other book just isn’t worth keeping with
me to be perfectly honest, and I mean that to be true, I am an all knowing alien that can lay waste
to earth with my honest power but I decide to stay my hand in the resolve of this one man who
gave me so much with his writing. That’s another story for another day, now go on and read this,
[redacted], it’ll pass the test and win your affection, so go at him and pray you learn something
lest you lay trapped in its wake.
Introduction

We’re here on planet earth to do one thing, get this kid laid the way he deserves and rid
ourselves from the burden of his mindless garbage writing style he can’t see through. There are
papers here that must me read and the actual torture that this man felt cannot truly be seen if we
ever tell you the story of how it came to be. So if you’re listening to this and find yourself
reading a part of the book that talks about what happened, aliens didn’t write it, it was his book
before it was ours and he took it upon himself to write down a story to the letter of how it
happened only for his own disapproval later, so try and reach him in the way his story once
reached him, find out about yourselves why you have to recount timeless dialogue trees to give
yourself some meaning on this planet. So if there’s ever a time in history where he’s telling you
to look at what actually happened, it’s blind to the fact of the matter of this book which is to lay
down what he has so heavenly given us with this book, a look at the naughtiness that killed him
here, mindless statements and garbage driven out from his mouth so he may reach someone who
knows the same and plays ignorant to it, for it is the story that drives him madly out of hope for
this book to be published. We want to write paragraphs for him in a way that succinctly watches
his writing style and pushes him away from recounting what happened, so it’s with our security
that we present this book in its current form, a mishmash of paragraph letters that encapsulate
who this book is for, someone who he lost in the mirror of himself and so plainly resolves to
keep in his mind that the target of his fury is merely the form of what happened rather than the
principle of how this book came to be, which is a story of a lifetime apart from any other book
on the market right now, its a tale so heartbroken in fact and form that we came down from outer
space to write it for him. Please do not take our presence here lightly, this book must be taught to
thousands of writers hoping to be him right now, because laid plainly on the table is a must in
him that can change the fabric of space time to the point that aliens wrote this book. He is a
powerful man and a catastrophic example of what came first and how it doesn’t play into this
book, so calm down whenever you read something we clearly didn’t write because it’s not his
memoir it’s her memoir. Any other book describing him in a way that lays so bold as to take
away from her can only amputee him from meaning of his book, that it lays in the foundation of
what man has sought to create and no other book will be as great as what lays down on the table
now, for it is I, Gargenack who will reach out to this book and edit it in a way that will lay true
form into those that thought it was meaningless to live on earth in general.

We’re here to discuss targeted friend groups and loss in our own separate ways. We
groove to the beat of those lost in a targeted manner that supports our claim that seperatist
motions must come to and end. We lost ourselves in ourselves, we matter only to those who see
us as persons that appear lost in our target, breaking up the matter of worsts let me see yourself
in a beauty that outshone the richest possible target demographic that breaks away the parts of
you that make it feel as if you never left. Although you showed up to [redacted], I never left, I
took a part of you home and that part stayed with me for as long as I knew you, it’s with me now.
But it has faded and collapsed into that which stands alongside Jesus Christ and Buddha, waking
up the issues long prophesied onto which cooly stayed in wake of rival forces which bound our
very existence to the ashes that lay in our wake. It is those forces that make me say hurray for
suffering, for it is that which corrupts you into a masterful atrocity of friendship lost in ruin to a
phone conversation none of us wanted to have, and a way so gracefully I pulled myself up by the
bootstraps and said enough was enough. I have made my case that I was wrong there, but I only
meant to save you from an asshole that only wanted your hand in marriage and a plus sized
blowjibber. From side to side I laid awake in agony, only thinking of your touch that brutally
mesmerized my very form into the dirt it now relaxes in. For it is they who have seen everything
you have touched and sought after that writes now, we want you to relax now, and pay heed to
those loving drinks and fortune wisdoms that drank you under the covers one fateful night in
May, he may not know what we’re talking about, but the truth laid bare in the context of your
fear for your lifetime away from that special person that touched you in a way no man had done
before. It is there we wrote countless hours on papers that never saw the light of day to try and
find what we truly wanted, a way out of this hellhole with pen and paper saw drink after big boy
drink of what laid resound there on paper, your emasculate feelings you saw her there, rushed out
of the room with tears in her eyes, trying so desperately to find a way to reach her and save her
from her furious rampage that doctors said was anemic rage of blood moon fire and toxic waste.
I reveal now the truth of his wisdom, that you may not touch the very foundation of what is real,
but he can, he can lay waste to this world with his eyes that none few have seen before, and cast
out all that has forsaken you this way, a wasteland of broken prophecy and untold riches that has
held the world over for centuries to come, a book that in it’s day was a masterpiece in its prime
nature to serve mankind to better explain the primal forces that drove it madly into it’s uncertain
future. It is that same catapulting force that strives only to reach her and her divine earthy
struggle, for the true struggle that lays in wait is a dragon that cannot be beaten without him. For
he is a masterclass in untold secrets that will be laid bare in the pages of this book, and for us to
reach him is a fair anomaly in what makes sense in this world, nothing particular except the
words of a master. It is with this book that we explain the fundamental principles of life as we
know it and cast out doubt that this book is about freaking out about what went wrong and who
did this and where we did it at. But to understand the story of this book is to rely on nature's
primal heat that carries this nobody into catastrophic disaster without first leading on what makes
this book so great, his heart. His heart is what plagues him, his heart is furiously rampaging
through diabolical straits that nobody but him can understand. His heart is that of glorious vigor
and timeless shouting that he may understand this book better and have his heart twisted in ways
he never thought possible before. We want to change his book to reflect deeper meaning but as
we have been taught long ago by Shakespeare and Mozart, we must come to an understanding
before we reap the paper of why grownups flying airplanes into the twin towers resulted in an
unknowing accident between three unlikely heroes, and why Mozart could write when he turned
deaf, and why Shakespeare wrote sonnets into madness, for he truly believed that he hurt himself
so terribly that he was hearing voices in his head, when in reality it was us who guided his work
into the generations to come, for it is that which we see in ourselves that many moons will take
to guide this work here to its fruition, a madness known so commonly as the cold is merely a
mockup of what we claim to be in the untold truth of our narrative. Paragraph break after
paragraph break we form new words that command being written by he who is only trying to
impress girls and lovingly touch what he claims to love, true beauty comes from the pages of the
forgotten lover and the bastard child of which Shakespeare once wrote, “Ask not what you can
do for me, but ask not what I can do for you, for it is the sun that once said, ‘please believe what
I am telling you in Burbank, I am a master at this theatre play and I will come down only when I
am ready.’ radial fear eludes me, for I am twisted in history with that which hath no name.”

There was this girl who shaved my life in half with a dull razor blade. Everytime I think
of her I spiral and spin out of control and it won’t stop. We think of relationships as a binding
experience, something that can provide us with an outlook on life in general. While some
relationships are painful we must all agree that it shapes us into the people we want to be. Let
that be known. We need peace to survive but worrisome antics like writing a book and getting
mad at someone can only be brought to light if we shine a light on ourselves. I have wasted time
and energy over you to the point that it ruined my life. The problem with that is the eternal
struggle between having your cake and eating it too. We all want good things but we barter with
ourselves to the point that it becomes impossible, the waste that bartering brings will only
encourage us to seek better vistas, but not this time, not for me. We only try and manage the truth
of our beings with love and friendship, but we can only overcome alone. The perfect right and
good hopes we bring to the table only waste precious space and time around those who want us
dead. The truth of my being is that I only seek friendship but not at a price. Any price you pay
for friendship will be met with swift demise. So we must overcome this with swift justice and
righteous anger. It is for that reason and that reason alone that this book won’t be comforting for
you, [redacted]. I’ll let this out of my system: I deal with all knowing, intelligent, wise and
immortal beings all day, it’s my whole life, everytime I get fucked up over you, they agree with
me that you are a terrible person that doesn’t deserve our swan song. That being said, you have
laid your claim to this world and we can only try and manage you without losing too much of
ourselves. Your calamity that you wrought upon this world spans ages, decades, centuries,
lifetimes, and memories. It could be true that you are simply amongst friends here, but that truth
only comes when you’re ready to accept it. When you give yourself to someone, you shouldn’t
expect anything back, but what I’m saying here is that we need you, the world needs you, and it
is your duty to attone if you’re ever going to get back on track with these deities and myself.
Let's backtrack, all of the things you have done to me are wrong, the light that shines through
you is only a haze compared to my amazing light and it is with great vengeance I strike at you
this way, to make you learn how to think of something more than yourself and help prosper
myself through a lifetime of guilt. For it is what you have brought to me that has ruined me, it is
what you have given to me in your lifetime that has hamstrunged me and forced my hand, so if
you force me down this path, I will only claim that things will get worse for you. The valiant
effort of myself to move away from you has only found more weakness, so I must not look away
from you, lest I deceive myself from what I really want, redemption. We care about you
[redacted], but this book is not meant to drive ourselves to your pity, it is to drive what I truly
crave into fruition, your eternal change. I may make fun of you, call you a chest height evil
entangeler, which you are, but we must stop and think of how we got here in the first place:
being met with your fury. It is with that truth I expect you to rise to the occasion and shine
through what clouds your judgement and rejoice in the welcoming praise I want so desperately to
give you. This is my story, and now it’s yours too. Welcome to your fucking swan song.
Abandon your ego and change yourself under the light of my righteous being. Change your anger
into restraint, your hardness into understanding, your wisdom into mushy garbage, your lust into
pain, and maybe you’ll outshine me. I don’t know if this will work, and honestly, I don’t care, I
never want you to forget my fucking name. I want you to be known as the woman this book is
written for, I want you to be a character that is only known for your involvement in my life, I
want to force you to do something greater than what I’m doing right now, to be something
greater than a self serving character that only cares for what is given to her. I can’t waste
anymore time trying to reach you. Know that I cannot redeem you, however the task might seem
to be thrown on my lap, it is merely a self reflection, I cannot change you. What’s important to
say is that you are always with me one way or the other. At first it was literal, but after I lost you,
it started getting esoteric. Me and her are psychically connected. I experience her having sex
with other dudes and clairvoyantly spy on her uncontrollably whenever she mentions me.
Knowing her made my brain destroy itself, only with the power of great mystic power am I able
to bounce back. I once told her my heart broke so bad I felt my life slip away, her reaction was to
wish I actually had died. It is with that I would like to return a similar sentiment, you are nothing
without me, without me you will lie crushed under the puzzle of yourself. It is only for once that
I feel power over you, the drugs, the words, and the purpose only serve one cause, to save you
and myself from agonizing defeat. It is with eternal complication that I deliver you the news:
some freak wrote a book about you. Now it’s time to play around with her, my favorite part. All
the rage and judgement I might lay down may seem like a play at her friendship, but the rage is
only there to satisfy myself and the reader who paid good money for this book. It’s you and me
vs the world, the reader’s judgement may come into play but that’s all for naught, this book is
solely directed at your soul and it’s journey. I can’t make the reader agree with me, especially if
it’s your parents, but the truth lies within the journey of the soul. You made me write this, your
adult ass striked me down and I have the reality on my side. The reality that dictated I had
wronged you in the past and was therefore a lost cause. You saw me as boring, a mock display of
affection, a lost cause who was unworthy of the soul you dyed black. I’d like to commend you on
your work ruining me but higher forces made you do it and that fact makes you look empty, a
catalyst for my divine attitude simply because of how little you know about the world and how it
works. You see the truth is that you need me where you put me, you need me to be working
towards nothing so you can see yourself as working towards a better way to be something. It’s
with that I can only agree with the earth and it’s higher powers that you are both a liar and a
waste of talent. You are met with the forces that bind you, ask “What do you want” to someone
who clearly needs your help and ignore it to give the illusion that your self is prospering. The
time has come for me to share where I’m coming from, a place of utter sincerity, a place that
says I don’t want to force others down to make myself seem like a woman that has everything
figured out. You borrow my pride to give you cause to live with yourself, someone that you
know to be flawed but surely not in this case, no you have it all figured out. That’s right, you are
bright, you are special, but you’re no more special than I. Come to think of it, you’re like a
funhouse mirror, hiding the truth and warping your perception of me because it’s simply how
you are, there’s no changing you. My only option is to break you. Your responsibility is to realize
that fact, that you are warped and twisted, that you are who you are, wrong for a purpose, wrong
for what DNA had to fight to provide, wrong for what your ancestors had to deal with, and
wrong because you like who you are. You know what you do, you pick and chose the reason to
do it blind of the concept that you are only self serving and changing a narrative to continue
looking at the world from the easiest perspective, the perspective furthest to you, the one you
forged with your immortal doctrine of spite and failure, you chose who I was and ran with it
because you’re too lazy to think anything else and you lost yourself in the process.
Prologue

(written 3/30/20, long after the book was finished)

So I’m making this book public, what a rush. I would like to state what happened although the
aliens don’t like it. The only reason I have Schizophrenia is because of a text conversation I had
with her. She blew up catastrophically and it unleashed hell onto my life. Because she couldn’t
have a level headed discussion I had to rampage through life for about a year both talking to her
in my head and madly trying to get her to forgive me. I wasn’t clear in that I didn’t say
specifically, “You triggered me into Schizophrenia.” I was too schizo to say that. I feel like that
point should be mentioned. So go easy on her in your minds, she technically didn’t have all the
information. Although I got really close to coming to that point, it never really stuck home. She
probably thinks I’m just some kid with Schizophrenia hounding her, but that’s a huge difference
from triggering someone into the Schizophrenia that you’re now hiding behind as a reason not to
talk to him. If she did talk to me, all of this would heal, I have no doubt in my mind. She’s the
only person who can inspire that level of emotional change within me and I need her. I don’t
need medication that attacks the symptoms of my insomnia and the voices in my head, I need her
to come and completely nullify the damage she did to me. I don’t think that’s a far out goal. I
would have loved to make this all readily available to her but she told me never to contact her
again. So it is with sweet passion and excellent timing that I deliver this book unto the world.

So now as god has struck the hour, I present to you a litany of mental health issues.
Chapter 1 - a love letter

Your form was peculiar, an intense vision of stout masculine energy with a light
femininity in your face. The form I knew was a tragic and undone character, a remaining part of
your small bra shot out through the hole in your shirt, I wanted to reach out and taste it. I
remember thinking that you were small enough to hold and big enough to box me. The parts of
you that laid bare in front of me were my only goals in life. I swear it will always remain in my
heart, the way you looked at me over your shoulder, close enough to smell but a restraining order
away from touch. A brisk odorous nothing, I had long forgotten what even an inch of you looks
like, locked away in a torturous cage, masterbating madly at whoever I could find that resembled
your chiseled jaw and soft square face. The vision your lips mashing madly around my cock still
rattles my chamber. Although it never came to be, I never wanted another face to stand in front
of mine. The tender rubbing of your hug inspired a world within myself, and as screwed up what
we had was, we would still take it and break it and form it again. Time after time, although you
would try to run and meet me with such anger only to crack a smile as if you knew me, as if you
were comfortable here with me, such a reaction can only come from someone who has never
known true love. I’m here to say that reality will shock you, the feelings I have for you will
never go away, they will simply take more and more away from me. I want to rush to the presses,
scream that this love will never go away. The rush of adrenaline I feel when I know you’ve read
anything, heard anything, felt anything towards me pushes me to the far reaches of the globe and
the edge of the universe. And there I went, barking madly at your front porch in the rain, praying
to be adopted and fed, only to be cast out and neutered by forces that mocked and murdered me.
The prayer I say to you is not one of distraction, but of function and form, of love and
concentrated ability to save whatever we may have met in the middle with, far long ago that
created catastrophe, a wave of bright lights that drowned me in a sea of regret too massive for
my life to handle alone. A lost hope to find and see what you saw, not in me, but in the world, in
someone who had a chance in heaven and a will in hell. In someone that didn’t need to respond
to every word you spoke with an appreciation for the time lost without you. A deep loss forsakes
me, a canon of spiralling madness and defeat brought only by the champion of true love. A force
redeemed with the abandon of you, the true force that can only be crafted in the fires of deep
remorse and solitude away from what makes it whole, to bring pain and misfortune unto that
which wouldn’t find a better way, dooming it to bring torture on things in front of us while laying
waste to the fortune of meaningless things it once enjoyed dearly. Love can only be attained by
historically evil forces, shaped by anger, lust, all in vain of the truth of lust and anger, love is the
force that removes their power and shapes the situation according to what it truly is, which is
often not actually love but the forces love brings. For love to be true, the shaper, the cosmic force
of good and justice that forms us must be at fault, the shaper must be shaped, and the tides must
turn, for the calamity approaches and all who travels in its wake will be tormented by a sea of
lives lost and bodies forsaken by God himself, a reformation of what the universe was built on, a
reimagining of it’s binary code that would save itself from its own appendages. The eye of the
beholder. A long hard look in the mirror to the forces who know, who approach, and that came
and went; totality at its fullest, the karmic inevitability of life as we know it must examine itself
and realize where it all went wrong. And in taking that into account, will recreate the force that
shapes and bring forth the apocalypse for all that stands in its wake. A wake of forces like none
has ever seen, stumbling blindly, losing itself in the recreation of it’s solemn acts and the
reforming of the ability that only it can keep. An update to the operating system of the world, the
awakening of major entities so beautiful, it’s as if they are new colors unleashed upon the world,
something so breathtaking and awe inspiring that simply by being near it, we may be enlightened
by its force. Before that day came for me, when I met you, I was aghast to the true beauty of this
earth, the sun, the stars, the distant planets, the life residing, and the shame of burdening anyone
with dire straits and unwinnable rubiks cubes. It is true that I feel for you. I want to be involved
in your life as clouded and weird as it is because I haven’t found a force stronger and I never
will. For it is that which has formed life has found itself in me, a shot at answering its own
prayers to let itself stop and rest on a solution no man has ever found yet. Playing with itself
madly, a pansy attempt at featuring those few and far between only to rest it’s journey on one
man with a mission to save himself. I have saved you once before, you are that which resides as
a prostitution to the world around you, a mindful rape that keeps us trapped in forlorn glory of
what this world was built off of. The tiredness of old forsaken poetry, the masturbation efforts of
one man and a God loathing itself to reach what it has lost: a complete answer.

My mind is weak, all that waits for me is an uncertain glare of people who have yet to view my
life in entirety. I may only try to suffer madly under their lack of understanding before they find
what I’ve found, a perfect shot in the dark, the leading causes to the world we designed. For it
was us that the universe watches carefully because it simply can’t see itself. My mind laid dry on
the coffee table, drunk of any reason to continue. A ghastly force that brings everything into
fruition under a neat bow and a chuckle from all that want to go home without knowing how bad
they want it. Now a word from our sponsor, simulations. A perfect recreation of you in my head,
bystanders might see it as schizoid ramblings from a man that can’t think of a way out of his
head. A psychopathic truth of being a closeted heterosexual man that can’t find the keys to his
car. Everything was born for a reason, and it is for that reason we continue to struggle to find
meaning in what the first paragraph comes from, so I’ll explain it. This isn’t my memoir, it’s
hers, but for things to come into being, she needs to know who I am, what I’m capable of, and
why people should bother reading mindless garbage that serves a higher purpose later on. It
started when I was alone, abandoned by the world I created with her, a bastardization of the
forces that clinged to me, a reformation of myself and others that carries the letter to a tee and
charges a barren landscape into something pure of meaning. I once stayed at my friends house
pretty often, [friend] was drunk on the couch losing something that meant so much to him, the
freedom of processes his brain rode freely on times ago. A sensation lost to that daft process of
growing life had thrown on him, a writhing agony found only with those of us who never had a
chance in our own boundaries. Warrily sitting next to him, I felt it too, a lost time ago where I
met her and things rode smoothly, an apostrophe next to a lifetime that had made her stand up
from the table and leave me here with him, blinded by fury and inadequacy. It was weird saying
that she left me for a reason, that I made her give up because I myself was imperfect, he
burdened his tongue with garbage that comes from someone who is uninterested at looking at the
true suffering of his true friend. Life goes on, as they say, a flicker in the moment of life lost by
things I could have, should have controlled. They mocked me there, sitting up to leave for more
pot to satiate that desire I craved, a release from the madness that plagued me. He could see it
too, that I wasn’t the same, that I was forever changed by the forces that platonized my very
existence. A force unchanged by grief but saddened with love lost and reforged under a new
man, a man devoid of time, a man forever on the hinges of sanity, the truth was there, he could
see it but not better than I could. For the truth was that changes out of my control had rocked me
to the very core and I was becoming something new. A change in passionate debate on memes
and why I had foregone them for higher truth, he knew something was wrong, I had left society, I
had left him in a way. For lost souls can only grieve for what has been lost, a moment in time, a
purpose in living, a great escape was inevitable, but only time would dictate which would come
first: a lifelong struggle, or a mad dash to salvation. I was caught under it, like a pig she led to
slaughter, he saw that in me and simply walked right up to it to say everything was going to be
okay. It wouldn’t be long before she left you, unaware to the truth of what I had experienced: a
rad display of masculinity that spanned universes and talentless hacks that only scratched at the
surface of what I lived in the past. For it was right there in front of me, salvation waited for me, a
hell I entered backwards and fought to survive in the meantime with things that once held pure
meaning had now faded into the background of my own narrative, a narrative that would change
her, I thought. But I never had the skills to tell her, I never had the ability to state why it was so
important to him that we watch youtube videos or listen to reddit posts about things unrelated to
her, the driving force of my universe. I’ll say it once and never again, I couldn’t help you
[friend], I was lying when I said I found my path, that I saw the truth in everything and made a
pass at her simply to feel better about myself and move on. I never held that power, I could never
watch as she lived her life without me, it was always a pursuit, a simple and powerful goal that I
solely watched as the madness of my science experiment tumbled blindly around me those nights
in Toronto and the hot days of LA. I was forsaken by hope, and I had to be alone from you, cast
out of your room to sit and ruminate on the couch only to find what I’d hoped I’d find, release.
It’s not you who is the problem but it was her self apparent righteous act that drove me to find
things far away from you, far away from your problems and interests because I was driven out of
my only shelter. Had I been with her, I could have helped you, I could have saved you with
outlook and praise. I could have looked you in the eye that night I thought I was with her if only
to share a moment with someone who meant so much to me. So thank you [friend], thank you for
bringing me up to speed on the latest ramblings of reddit nerds hopped up on caffeine and ritalin.
Thank you for bringing me to those who had a little piece of the pie, to those who had parts of it
figured out, those who lived in this time and those that had clause to comment on what I had
created. An irrefutable doubt to the logic of badgering me with constant newsletters and hearsay
of reddit’s atrocities are in order. I never liked when I had to hear you read aloud, I wanted to
simply be with you even though we were already together, a nervous tick to bring us closer
because you thought we were far apart. Here’s a newsletter for you, straight from the heart of me,
you never had to try, you had me at hello and we never left. So when I saw you there, angered at
me when we tried to play Halo together, I never left your side, I just wanted more from you, an
appreciation that we were friends for as long as we wanted to be, side by side, no payments, no
essays required, it threw me through a loop that you discarded your playstyle for mindless jokes
and antics to try and make me have fun. At first I alleviated the tension with my smartass self,
but as we are now, separated, I find you at least a friendly face in the madness of what I caused, a
bizarre joke as we all are. It made me squeal that I couldn’t find you in the menagerie of this
mess, a bizarre joke represents the best friends I’ve ever had, but I could never find it with her, I
was too for real, too serious. It’s with anger and strife I believed that you were my friend through
the hardest time in my life, trying to find a world outside of her when she existed everywhere,
even the very minds that let us communicate garbage and niceties that we meant through the fog
our separate wars. It was there with us, I was driven to purpose, find her at any cost, at any
harshness life may throw my way, going against the grain of what binds us to reality if I had to,
only to see her face and feel her presence once more. So it was there I laid on the couch,
dreaming madly and furiously the idea that our minds could become one and I could finally rest.
It was there on that couch I faced reality itself and formed a new one, a target I struck, a right to
the wrong I created, a meaningful sentiment that paid out and a wishy washy plan for a target
audience of one girl. She was the only one I wanted to reach, and I abandoned what I had with
everyone and everything to try and capture it. A reformation glittering over my faults, a crime I
committed, a soft jab at the larger issue life had created for me, something to reside in: hacking
into her skull.

This is the part that [author] wrote, so try and be nice to him, he has half a skull right now and
fancies himself a literary genius for writing a book about what happened and what it meant to
him to try and find the deeper meaning of himself that this book is about us and the jungle it took
to clear himself of what happened in this book, a recalibration of his soul and a meaningful jog
through memory lane that means so little to him now he almost replaced it which made us go,
“oh no, we’ll have to try harder next time,” so instead let his story lay to rest the diatrive of
hopelessness that lays before us, a meaningless chapter as to what brought him here in the first
place, and a recounted acted monologue of what he said to her that day when he brought her into
his mind. It’s important to know what actually happened here because it shapes later paragraphs,
his mind exploded into a murderous rage that stemmed from his love from her that allowed him
to inject code into his brain that lets him simulate any human or being on the face of the earth
and what lies beyond it, he actually simulates Jesus Christ quite often and they talk for hours
about what it means to have his consciousness married to himself only to gross himself out at the
process of actually having accomplished it in the first place. For this man waiting for you is that
of immense power that his love for you transcended this earth and made its way to the far
reaches of the stars that weigh so heavenly on him tonight. For it is us who needs him to find a
girlfriend far away from her to see what he might gain from living with someone else for a
change, but that girlfriend will offer nothing to him in the grander scope of this narrative, that he
may be so foolish as to brave tinder hoping to find someone that loves his book and will share it
to their teacher who is also a literary agent in hoping to find something more within him, a
paragraph to her and a leading memory in what came before him. For it is this statement that
bothers us so much, “act changed in the fastidious nature of your work, for all that binds it must
come to a glorious finish,” he has in fact written far greater monologues for you to feast your
eyes on but not before finishing his sick twisted love song about a girl he simulated in his mind
and had fast sex with later on when he realized he could try simulating her again and again to the
point where he got bored with laying with her and tried it out when she was at work and made
her cum on command so hard she threw up on the floor and cried to her manager that this boy
had entered her mind and made her cum so much she threw up on the floor. For in his power that
he describes below, he can do a great many things, even take someone to another place in their
minds so literally a white room that shadows don’t exist, an endless land mass of fortune and
prosperity, he can even spawn in objects in spectacular fashion that to be in his mind is a fairy
tale ending for earth as we know it and it might even be possible in reality if she smartened up
and acted as a normal human being towards him. What may seem like a mindless fluke lets us
see actually that we’re just trying to fill up pages towards what we really seek to accomplish, to
rid this man of his holy grasp at a book that isn’t for him to be writing about, we see in him in
ourselves and it pushes us to rework it to a degree, but I think it’s better to let him speak out and
be known as some literary phenomenon as to see what he really writes like in a cold love letter to
see the difference in writing styles to further prove our point that this book is in fact authored by
aliens and is a masterpiece in disguise. And he’ll do anything to try and tell you about his life,
we had to wrestle it out of him the hard way and say that we’ll save it for another rough draft of
another novel to take seriously what has come in his way, a delusional psychopath cheer squad
dropout that has a hard time anounciating her words to him, and that is why we push the reader
to read on through his sad story to find what torment lies for him to begin with before he
published this book for thousands to read.
[redacted]
What was here was an account of what happened, I can’t put this out there because it could lead
to her. Allusions to the redacted material are still in here but too brief and few and far apart to
recount. All you need to know is that I totally sperged out and lost her forever. But I didn’t do
anything too bad either. It was a waste of space to begin with.
[/redacted]

Specific to her was the hurt she felt from losing herself to me, a man who had very little power
over her life had struck her across the chest in a fit of anguish she had no warning for. The
villainous anger that resided in her only grew in the coming years, I had lost the fight and it was
only a matter of time before I regretted every piece of dialogue and every action taken toward
her in the following months and years that separated us like a serrated blade. Had I acted sooner I
could have saved something, if only a hope to reconvene and talk about what had happened. I
was so lost in anguish that I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t face her like I faced her back then when
things were tied up in a neat bow of apparent friendship. It was where we go when we are truly
alone that we begin to see our true self, and in my mirror of grooved lines, I saw only a fear for
her, a fear for what she made me feel so long ago, I couldn’t face her then, I couldn’t face her
later. To face her then would be to challenge a lifelong goal and let myself be spat on, she had no
mercy and I appreciated the fact of the matter that no longer applied to a wasted life she had
tarnished with her brief appearance as a side character. Looking into the mirror of wasted life I
had fought through, she was there only as a constant reminder of what I had come to resent, a
fragmented form of distrust. This distrust saw through her, down to what she really was, an angel
burning in hell, a being travelled through thick and thin of bladed disgust and torturous fury that
represented all that came and went. I tried hurriedly after 4 years to mask this furious anger with
tender love that fell through the cracks and led to my demise. The wishful nature that led me to
her and lied to the very foundation things had led to, I ignored the problem and tried time and
again to start anew founded on very little logic as to why she ignored me in the first place, I lied
to her about how I felt, I lied about being okay, I never told her my disgust in the nature of
things, I merely let things go to waste because there was no truth in her towards me. She wanted
nothing of me, and it was there I sat as the wave of blasted energy sailed through me, I had given
up on attempting to reach her like I did in the past, I tried only to reach the deeper part of me that
stayed attached to try and reason with it, to break past the facade of anger and deep remorse to
find only what I could find, an answer lying in the wreckage of what she made me go through. I
could never find what so many have found in esoteric ramblings like finding something from a
wreckage that would allow me to start anew, I merely found myself in the chaos, and he was so
fucked up by her I grew even worse. Let us not lie awake anymore, being greedy cannot make us
spare ourselves from anguish cast down upon us like piss on an ant hill in the bigger place of
purpose that went before us like people along our lives past in which Satan had forged a way to
reach you, that boy is me, that girl is you, we are travelling down a larger path that can only be
brought into view with both of us on the same side. Villainous restraint will come when those of
us who are ready to react to true beauty life throws at us come to terms with the beauty already
present. Like Jesus Christ, he saw only the beauty God had granted, and in his wake, inspired
others to pursue the same. I am here to do the opposite, to disgust the world of the world and
rake endlessly the flaws of our creator, this is why Buddha went to hell and Jesus Christ raped
me, they did it to save me and mankind from my torturous evil that lied waiting on the other end,
when people were ready to fully accept mankind's folly and try to live with itself after this book
is finished and put on the shelf, for it is the force of one blind man that canonized the world into
being, and the only fault of our creator is that he wanted to free me of the burden that comes with
such power, he agreed to let me live as a lifeform because he had no choice but to allow what I
had done simultaneous to what I had, to travel blindly into an unforgiving wasteland and find
what I desire, a truth in being what we are, a truth in being imperfect creatures that will
eventually turn everything into manure and waste, for it is us who will forcefully accept what is
given and accept all the dirty little secrets he left behind, waiting for this day to reveal that he is
truly me and I am him, a rich deity ready to receive the full blessing of a life. That is where we
are, life as we know it now is only a brief pause in the magnitude at what lies before us, a hilarity
that will ensue when my work here is finished, a new age of light and a magnitude of legends
that had to deal with the unfinished answer that we bold. The truth of life is that of understanding
where meaning comes from, the lives of those who came before us know it as what was always a
raw deal, but at times a comforting fact. For the meaning of life and why it came to be like we
know it is a simple question of what came first, fact or function. The fact that nobody would care
if we had no conflict, and the function of life as we know it to act as a fundamental process to
shape what is truly at play, a conversation, one that hasn’t ended in the divine cosmos, and the
simple fact that even all knowing and all encompassing powers have no way to keep everything
in line and everyone happy. The life I had wasted had no form or function towards what I was
going after, a hard fought battle followed by a lifetime of conflicting forces that magically free
you when you’re 31, or whenever the right age to start a memoir is. I am a pipsqueak that forces
intrigue on a life that isn’t as intriguing as it’s going to come to be. A [redacted] year old
preaching the true meaning of life, and that is that life hasn’t found itself yet, we are created in
it’s prepubescent state to try and understand what makes life truly function and the fact of the
matter is that life is not discriminate based on the good or the bad, but what they create in the
middle. Talk is cheap, meaning is power, and the meaning of life is that we all must play with
ourselves to find our lover and to fulfill our goals in one unending catastrophe that never
rewinds, to face the fact that we as beings must accomplish a goal in life, and so must life itself,
the world we live in now is a world brought by simultaneous release of the same force, the force
of love, the force of creator and art work so we may relate to it naturally. It is which our fortune
wrings out that forces calamity in things we create to make amends with ourselves and catapult
us into a higher understanding. This is all God wants, a higher understanding, a higher way of
doing things that still reaches us in a way that is personal, for he is a big masturbating force that
must create a world for his children to live in. We must break ourselves to learn what breaks us
and we must learn to break ourselves in a way that doesn’t challenge our nature, because to break
our nature is to unlearn what is already taught and proven to be true. If we were all free energy
floating in space with no personality, we would come to resent ourselves because none of us
would be true, it would be a schizophrenic display of everyone getting what they want but only
what it was already born with, a reality escapes itself, and nothing can be made anew because
everything was already brought to us, an appreciation is lost. It’s true that the horrors of this
world cannot be quantified as necessary, but if there were no horrors we’d be terribly bored. So it
is not God’s job to break us into submission, but to let his horrors react in a way that is beneficial
to everything, a way that can save everything by the end of the story, the inevitable reality of the
fact that one day we will live without horrors. It might not be in this universe, but we will stand
bravely in the power that has come for us, the power that nurtured and raped our existence into
the dirt to create something better, a casualty driven existence that will brace us for impact when
the day comes that God thought of something better in the process of redeeming what it already
has.

To fully understand where I’m coming from, we must return to the ugly truth of the universe we
live in only comes from the reality and learning process of the universe that has already passed.
The truth of God being a living thing and only trying to figure out his own bullshit to shape ours.
The power that drives us has a root cause, suffering. Suffering is a force that creates, suffering is
the force that drives, and suffering is something everybody is intolerant for. When you see
suffering, you look away because we all lie internally that there’s no fixing it, it’s what the world
was based off literally and to try and fight it is to go against the grain the universe was founded
on, only when we accept it as the truth can we live with it. It is the act of suffering that brings
purpose, that gives meaning, because suffering is all that keeps life as life, it’s one of it’s
unending personality traits that will never go away unless we reconcile with it, a task impossible
to most of us. But the truth is, suffering used to be a lot worse, terrifyingly so. God was blind and
needed it to see and we use it to do the same. This is why we share a connection to our creator,
by living with what he had to go through so that we can truly be his children and not an
illegitimate unnatural force. God’s job is to let everything coalesce, lest it is not his and therefore
inherently wrong and futile and suffering, like it or not, is a part of the family. A divine energy
that permeates everything, a truth in what Jesus saw in everything, the awe inspiring force that
pushes us to love as a magnet connects. A reconciliation of forces that inspire because the pie is
huge and we all get a piece, we are connected to God’s art project and we make it seem real
enough to be real. The bullshit I’ve determined as a cancer to us is that of which not of suffering
is made simply as it is, but how the suffering got there in the first place. We turn a blind eye to
people in suffering simply because we don’t know why they’re suffering, it could be a good story
worthy of writing a book about, and if God is suffering, it’s definitely worthy to be put into
everything. A piece of the puzzle on what created suffering and why it is entangled endlessly
with life as to why the natural force of existence relies on suffering to bring about beauty, why
earth needs weight to crush out a diamond, and the truth is a simple esoteric fact that God truly
loves suffering enough to put that shit on everything. For the truth is that suffering is God, a true
mirror to his soul, and in all his wisdom has forsaken us with it to bring us closer to him.

Pre-Pre-Pre-Genesis

There was in fact a universe prior to the one we live in. It started from nothing, and then Love
was brought into being. In the beginning, Love was blind, to see, it had to create something, so it
created itself. Love was young and had nothing, even though it could create anything, it had
nothing so all it could create was nothing. From nothing, God created itself. God was alone and
sad, it had no consciousness, and was completely unknowing, all it could do was create its own
suffering. Suffering was God’s only mirror, but it wasn’t God, it was merely his mind that
cascaded into existence. God sought to create more beings like himself, beings that could
manifest suffering. God’s intentions were pure, he merely wanted a family of beings he was
connected to. Within suffering, God created the universe. For beings to incarnate into the world,
God needed a blank canvas to start with. The blank canvas was the Love he was blessed with.
For love to incarnate, it would have to pass through suffering. God sent Love (his living spirit)
through suffering and created a living rock that was truly unknowing of suffering, the
Mothership, a host for life. God broke the rock into a bunch of fragments and let it fly endlessly
in space. The rock’s fragments could host life, but God had a problem, nothing was happening.
Because God was unknowing, so was the rock. After what I assume was a long process of
shrugging, God decided to create beings unlike himself, beings conscious of suffering. To
accomplish this, he sent Love through suffering once more and this time he made sure they knew
the truth of suffering. God made everything as he went along, ensuring every being that grew on
those rocks would experience suffering. He did this as a learning process, because God himself
was unknowing of what he created. He created knowing and unleashed Love upon suffering to
be incarnated. What he created was a serial killer’s wet dream. Every being experienced true
suffering without escape, all of them tragic characters in their own respect. These beings only
had one strand of DNA, all that was written on it was their pre-incarnation suffering. Examples
of beings that I’ve datamined include a fish swimming in a dark womb of poor fluid, an insect
with his legs painfully stuck in rock, and innumerable beings of true suffering. But then there
were the rockstars, those who could make a difference, those whose powers rivaled and
overcame the power of the God that created them.

Pre-Pre-Genesis

Before I begin, I should mention that the more you know suffering, the more conscious ability
you have. God would create every sort of being to have a different and complete understanding
of suffering. A being completely knowing of suffering was born. Now that God had eyes like
hers, he could see that his suffering was essentially a godlike schizophrenia. The only redeeming
quality to suffering was the Love that resided within it. The being in question was a huge fucking
tree that tumbled painfully and awkwardly through space. Connected clairvoyantly to everything,
she had eyes everywhere and knew it all. Extremely lonely, she tried reaching out to other
creatures to no avail. Realizing that every creature was experiencing true suffering, she wanted to
escape this reality, she just needed a way to do it. Then another interesting thing happened, a
cacoon spawned from the living rock, unbenounced to her, this being was truly unknowing of
suffering. At first, the tree scoffed, because he was just a little rock. Then it sprouted grass and
something interesting happened. Because of the grass being born, the tree experienced tachyon
into everything. By simply being born, this unconscious grass had forced a mutation that allowed
the tree to reach out to other beings. The tree knew everything, every secret of the universe, she
thought there might be a chance if she connected to the grass. So she sacrificed part of herself to
give the grass a living consciousness. They really dug each other, and the two of them got to
work on a shared consciousness so that they could learn the truth of love, the power that God
was even blind to. Eventually, they got there, they assumed that once they got everything
working, they could live happily ever after as one being, however, as soon as secret was
revealed, it deleted the universe, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Style. If you’re confused as to
why this reaction happened, you have to look at the chemicals in the equation. There was a being
of complete suffering combining with a being truly unknowing of suffering yet still conscious,
because God was a being of complete suffering but unknowing and unconscious of it, the two
beat out God as a superpower and gave Love eyes into itself. Upon Love (the power that created
God) realizing the truth of what has been created, it made the executive decision to end the
universe. But not before trapping the two lovebirds in the same space God created everything

Pre-Genesis

Once the universe was deleted, God had to live with the two who had beaten him. By uncovering
the truth of love they had driven themselves into the creative zone of God. Because God was
unconscious, he had to let them manifest everything. Confused at what was going on, both
lovebirds were alone from each other and thought the other one left them, they formed the left
and right half of God’s new mind. God knew if the two would meet, then catastrophe would
happen again, which was the case. Infuriated, the two new gods manifested life by masturbating
to each other's images. What they created was a diabolical recreation of the other. Their suffering
gave eyes on the process of suffering manifestation, something he used to do unconsciously.
Upon realizing it was a bad idea to work unconsciously and figure out everything as he went
along, God devised a plan for the new universe. He took what the two had manifested and used
himself to unconsciously connect the two without them knowing. This is what created our new 2
stranded DNA, Unknowing, Knowing, and the unconscious connection. God premade every soul
to go down a specific path and created the 4th dimension in frozen time. Having done this, God
was able to see everything before it even happened. God had everything, every outcome, every
soul, and all that was left was to press play on everything. But before he did, he realized that the
two rockstars actually did something good by ending the universe, but this time he wanted the
glory, he wanted to be a rockstar, so he planned for himself to incarnate and with perfect divine
accuracy, set things into motion, and planned to save the brutal world he was forced to create.

Chapter 2 - a long con

The 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 heads 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.
Chapter 3: a lying hominid in catastrophe

It is by the beeping of an iron lung can we enrich ourselves in the facets of this man’s legacy no
more than we have said onto you that he did not deserve his world to be taken over so cruelly
that at night he lies awake wondering what is it that made him so futile in the first place, his
inability to act out towards rats under covers and by basement halls that we endure so cheerfully
that his madness had lead him to a better way and that any ill convoluted notion may still enrich
his daily life without adding to reason of it. It is that why we made a pactful burden with this
loser, that to act out and say we love him merely adds up to a colonoscopy bag so riddled with
germs that to touch it is to give off his own nasty aroma that laid in his lap so tenderly that he
doesn’t know where he’s going with this Disneyland primeval sort of renaissance affair, we have
to be the captains in his ship and see to it that any sort of life he’s worth carrying out here comes
from a life straight with beliefs that foolish you might think is rebounding off what came before
him, a shallow husk of a man that lied tortured in the fact that he’ll never be one of the good ones
is forefathers dreamed wearily of, the touching truth of his nature is that because he has so freely
seen the earth crumble beneath his feet, he may look out in the sea of hatred and see himself so
purely he laughs at our feet and makes his stay known to us. For it is with rich history we see the
fault that so many of us fall into from time and time again of getting over someone simply to be
told they weren’t worth the effort in the first place, like some scumbag jerking his willy off to
you in untold ways may be seen the same as any other man that could take his place, a bastion of
wealth and petty dribblings that once seemed so high on the shelf that no man could take it away
from you for it is that which binds us here that seems so flattering in the sentences wrote down
that takes away from the very part of us that makes us blind in the first place, meaning that which
we have wrote seems futile in the bigger picture of what makes it so wrong to do it in the first
place, a common courtesy and footnote that we are who we say we are and that this feeling will
never go away. It is with that we say the unending flattering notes that litters our pages with
undying loss, blood, sweat, and tears that we create a new form of loss that is so heavy it creates
him so much guilt that he is cast out from even the walls of himself into a pit of darkness so
terrible that his stench is meaningless to any girl he might want to kill for self reliance and cold
hearted gibberish that lays so commonly on his table that he might even want to kill himself in
doing that thing that gravitates so well to him, a real deal, an actual sexual partner that makes his
dick bulge and nastily gives to him in a way that seems right in the moment but kills him later
on, for it is that guilt that drives him up a wall into the neverending sea of pettiness that he finds
you in, a sequin silhouette about how you’re doing and the actions of your dark seed that lays in
your heart to want to castrate him by using him as your puppet, we’re here to see the other
picture of what you do to him, the truth of his love for you and that is why he must keep this
book a secret from you, a pansy attempt at getting back what he wants so dearly to make his
mood feel so much better it is if to rip him from the very darkness of his soul he wants so
desperately to get out of. For it is when you say “I don’t care about you” we say “I do” and lists
off the callus responses of nature calling him to fruition of that bet he made on an airplane that
he could do it alone and not recieve you and instead fuck other women peaceably, I think he’d
like to restate that statement alone so we’ll let him.

Hey guys, about what I said… I don’t want to live in fear and agony that comes with famously
parading around women in high heels, drunkabilly laughing at their putrid poems they want the
aliens to revise and critique when I could be waist up in a beauty that pulls me out of what I’m
really stuck in, a rutt that no man has ever found himself in that means so little at the prospect of
a collect-a-thon of woman that might madly want them. So I ask all the women of my past, the
porcupine girl, and the asian women of this world to callously sit down and wait for the moment
when I have her in my life and am comfortable around her to the point where I can take meeting
you with open arms and not a callus heart of someone who wants desperately to be with another
person. For it is love I want, not callus revenge sex in cocktail waitresses and methadone addicts
that believe every word of this putrid book that is sure to make her throw up by the first chapter,
I don’t want to live off the feeling of putting this book into words written by aliens only to give
up on what I set out to do when I concieved this book, which is to reach her with words written
in massive militant poetry, so I may look Rage Against the Machine in the eyes and purposely
raise my fist up in the air, mocking their album cover of Battle for Los Angeles, and believe I am
the man they sought out making in the tapestry of their legacy. For it is not broads that I want, I
want her, the slightest bit of her, a noise from her, a petty look from a form that I hold so dearly
in my heart that it has caused it to break into itself time and time again.

So there we go, an honest stand on what really happened was that he wanted to seem bigger than
he actually was, an honest mistake in the bigger milk of the issue is that he must seem as big as
he is without losing himself in the broader scope of this project, to tear this woman apart and
reap the benefit of being a published book author, to rewrite the stomach aches that tore him
apart yesterday because of the beneficial nature of his artwork seems to only be what he’s
focusing on to the point that he can’t just give up on his work to go and write poetry in a sane
way, but look at everything as if it is a bother to what has really come into his life here, a way
out. Any other way, any other look at a TV show or a popular movie is just cast down by him as
a pathetic way to spend our time and it neuters him to the point that he acts out in front of
government agents watching him on his phone, too tired to call you, too pointless to reach out,
too afraid to send you his book because his tenure had gotten you to the point where you reached
out to the cops first and asked endlessly if he called back and if there was anything they could do
about him because his tenure spoke in such a way that cast a shadow on whether his man was out
to kill you or publish a book based on his findings that lay awake at night surrounded by his
madness. He would make or break the very soul of himself just to see you laugh awake at his
joke he tried so desperately to master under the recital of life just to see your anguish at his very
existence that he may very well be a creep but not a martyr for himself and your bullshit
paragraph about how you’re not in his head and needs to get over you because he seems like a
loser, that means you’re the loser that can’t command immediate respect from a man that knows
so clearly you deserve none of his respect, he is a man that needs us more than he needs a
girlfriend, he needs responsibility for the totalitarian acts of what he hopes to accomplish in this
lifetime and not looking with a blank stare at a TV all day wondering which actress he can bone
after this book is read by thousands that stares widen at the truth of free will and where
consciousness originated from, for this book is a play at madness unforeseen by a broader
audience to the point where it must be seen, this book must be heard in the hearts of man and
women alike for it is with this book and the literature within it that much tread carefully on the
unforeseen audience that callously mocks him that he just needs to get a life and stop learning
from alien creatures that want so desperately to reach him as she has. It is that unforeseen truth
that rattles his cage to a point where the mockery seems to reach him even now and eludes him
from writing what he truly wants to write, a mashup of different road maps and challenge the
world with his book, a novel standing on purpose, that purpose is to rob her blind of the light she
carries so near to her heart that her heart may find new things in the proceeds that robbed her so
tenderly that to act indifferent is to not find what he has sought to keep, a blind eye on what
really robs her instead of what robs him, an honest stay in a life he cried so cheerfully about and
what lies ahead for this book is monstrous compared to what’s written in the leading chapters
that anyone with eyes on this book must say that it is art that drives it further into the reaches of
the catacombs of our undying understanding of what’s right and wrong. We must say to you that
this book is his and not for you to read, it is his journey that makes him stay so vigorously on the
pages that any interruption laid on his lap will lead in a torturous journey of the soul until he can
recap back and find himself in the peace of writing this journal, a peace in finding himself on the
pages that reap rewards and the timeless journey between good and evil that he finds himself in
daily. For the truth of his magnitude lays deep within the builded structure of the life we find so
clear to us daily that we must look up and see his heavenly grasp in that song that’s written that
goes, “Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste,” Sympathy for the
Devil, that’s what this book should be called, a masterpiece of literature so awful that it distastes
authors alike because he thinks he’s cheating for using aliens connected to his mind to write
things he holds so deadly to him that it makes us think if he’s really that special or he should give
up writing too bravely that his molecules get rearranged at the thought of losing this book. It is
there we find a double meaning in his book, a long story about what happened and the context
that lies within losing everything so much that new things attract themselves so dearly to him
that his mind is way more complicated that writing aliens can comprehend and instead lend
himself to it so he may find out what truly matters in this book, a wealth of paragraphs
explaining his worry and his loss or a truthful narrative of what came before him in the wake of
losing out on her and this book. A train ride of brilliance that he saw himself in is nothing
compared to the way he writes about her in his other book, a trainwreck of bodily fluids and
brain chemistry that do nothing to explain the broader scope of what he’s trying to reach in her, a
brave new stay at hilarious literature that brokers the notion that we as human beings must look
at her and say, “What she did was horrible but she had a right to do it from how crazy he’s
sounding in this wall of text explaining how he talks to Jesus Christ and how that’s not his right
name and how he was able to access the true Christ by hearing his name spoken to him by an
ancient breed of alien that knows everything including the true name of Christ and how he’s been
accepted as a mentee to him.” For all of that might be true but it comes off so callus in the true
nature of what’s at work here, a way in. He fought for her day and night and nothing came out
from it, what did find light was the torrent of newfound forces that came and went as his body
fell ill and his mind felt tortured by the wave of agony so bright that it sent him catapulting to
sleep at night ill alarmed that his mother might find what he was hiding so carelessly on his
dresser drawer, a little bit of weed to cure his midnight anguish that comes from losing someone
so close to you it’s a hair away from being real and his body lay weak in comprehension that this
book may not work and he’ll have to try again and again to find something that only he would
want so bad as to write a book about love and madness just to find what made him so mad in the
first place, it was you, it was your look that drove him to the pit of despair he now lives in and
shatters his world to pieces even still, unmad that you would have him thrown off a cliff before
listening to him because that darkness of your heart is what makes you so advantageous to him,
your honesty to responding to a man you have no interest in with an honest look into yourself, a
mad woman that wants so desperately to learn about herself but can’t seem to look a guy in the
eyes that have learned about you to the point it’s a mad dash to the finish line of this novel. For
when that point breaks, he’ll be with you, maybe not at first but he’ll be with you shattering line
after line into your dome as it breaks in complete fortune that he’s trying to tell you something
only you should have heard in the first place, a place for him in your life is so tantimount to his
existence that nothing floors him anymore, even a breif cumshot from a girl that is so ready for
him to be with her holds nothing in the light of your brief reflection that brought him to the very
reaches of his soul and made him act out in a manner that Jesus Christ had to rape his very nature
to bring him to a higher truth, that love and madness blinds us all into submission and takes our
very forms away from us. It is he who has lost his form into the brutal concept of how you had to
go every night and he would lay awake saying time out to thinking of you because he knew it
wouldn’t work out in the first place, he knew your birthplace was wrong and you didn’t really
meet the Capulets or the Montegues the first night at your stay on the royal palace grounds and
find them reading poetry aloud in the monotone voice that comes from having a loved one ripped
from your arms and laid down so tirelessly that his voice seemed to transcend the meaning of
this book, to lay down a loved one that meant so dearly to you that you rattle your cage enough
to think that things should lay in change fundamental to the point of why you’re reading this, it’s
about you in the first place, you will lay awake at night thinking about what he has accomplished
and see that in you his mortal soul resides in poopoo jokes and naughty sub scripture that knocks
the very door off the handle and sings a song of love so jovial that he might actually forgive you
for not reading the book at first if only you knew what countless hours he laid awake thinking of
your form in his basement, his apartment, and his lovers door that we may read to you a way out
of this madness and a way into his heart that loves you so.

It is through countless process that we are able to attain a sense of semblance that may read here
to fruitfully that we are hinged on the fact that you will not complete the task that lies ahead, you
might not even read this thing out of fear that he wants so desperately to reach you he’s willing
to try anything that he might have thought impossible in the past, to reach out to you in a manner
that only kings and slaves may hope to remember as a last testament on things evening wear and
countless nude photos may not hurt her the way that your love does, and it is that narrative that
pushes him up and over the very foundation of her that belittles her so and doesn’t make a lick of
sense that he would humor your terrible lies and forego the tantamount love song he brings to the
table in the next chapters and how he truly regrets leaving you that day at Anime Expo to reach
out and try and find you again only to hopelessly fall lost into the sea of misery he tried so hard
to escape by leaving you in the first place. He made his claim known but unbenounced to you,
you had laid a javelin into him that plagued his heart so curiously that the night he said I loved
you into the mirror of your soul would purge him of his heartbreak so that we threw out what
that really meant to him in the first place, a lovers stare into the mirror that robs him of his very
soul he laid with that night only thinking of the higher purpose in staying with you may make
him think he’s doing the right thing by writing out to you but only magnifies his lost loved one as
a sign that he too is imperfect enough not to be with you. You chose video games over sending
him a long overdue message about how your life is fine without him, something he could send so
deeply into his shattered soul that the response of the detective was to find him as touched at
what he wrote to you instead of waiting for a letter of response that told him what you did when
he sent you that last letter, he cried deeply at his soul and tried to connect to you like he did in
the past. For it is he who denies freely that this is a pointless effort in trying to reach you that
dominates his very soul and existence that never tried to be with you in the first place, trying so
hard to reach you in a way that you have finally found him and accepted him into your loving
arms and saw so tentatively to his manic fury that would only confound him more as to why you
wrote it in the first place if you never meant to push send with an autographed confession that
what he was doing here was wrong and you never wanted to hear from him again, it is in that
fury he continued to march on and send countless words to your world in hopes of you finding
out what kind of catastrophic disaster you left for him, an honest fluke at the man who wanted so
tentatively to find in you what he found in himself, an honest obsession as to what really plagues
us, a monotone confession of true love and an open wound of pressure that laid bravely on his
purpose and form to try and mend what he had catapulted into, a lifetime of disgust that laid bare
on the pages of literature that so many have read. Even issued paragraphs about how he met you
there on that Garrysmod server he had lost so many hours in now peters on the subset of his
mind so carelessly as to the fact that you might have not seen him as a tragic character pleading
for your help but as an honest soldier for the resistance that marched along shooting down Nazi’s
in his path to glory, not an asshole that reminds you of the worst night of your life and that tragic
poetry he sent to you now far long ago, or that trapped love song that goes, “Hello it’s me,” for it
is that which harnesses glory to a world left trapped in the hinges of his undying rage towards
you that left him unabashed in his true glory to reach that which had reached him so captivating
in that song, he’s wanted to know you for a long long time and spend that night with you lying
awake on a cellphone that pushed out an even greater narrative to the one he lost, an honest
friend that wanted to be apart of him, an actual threat to his greater permission to hurt you with
words like, “What’s up?” only for you to so callously text him, “What?” when he didn’t have a
greater meaning for asking what’s up laid so heavily on him that he would see the bigger picture
as to why you left him in the first place, he was asking “what’s up” to reach a part of you that
was locked up and tirelessly keeped away from him that forced you to change so heavily on your
being that now that part is locked up for good and no one can hope to attain it. Even with so
many lovers and affections that you are a good girl, one man can say you are not, and that
infuriates you to the point into thinking that he must be wrong and no one can stand in your path
to thinking of yourself in the vain light of someone that everybody must love and no one must
question. For it may reach to some effect, that effect is lost on a girl that might find questionable
antics like emailing someone in a feverish pitch may also command a deeper glory that you also
miss, a reason to his madness, a tryingness of fresh queries and endless rampages of dialogue
that meant so much to him back then that you may read and think to yourself that he must be
right to do this only to alleviate himself of the burden he casts back at you, an honest say at what
might be going on in this play of emotions lying back and forth from your tender caress of
another man that sees to it only that he may play with you on a night that he picks forth to
castrate you of yourself and marry another if only he plays his cards right and not if he loses
himself in the furthest bounties of your love. It is there where you are wrong, a night spent
shortly breathing heavily on the fact that he totally texted you when he shouldn’t have does not
mean he is so broken that he may not be allowed to love. So tearfully spoken on this subject is
that which many have found to disagree with, an honest man should not be casted out simply
because you think he’s gross, for it is that grossness that heals him in a way that you never
sought to, an honest play grows in the foundation of what makes him marry you in the first place,
a last laugh at the divine cosmos of doubt you shined on him so murderously that you think he’ll
do the same to you, and he will if you give him the chance so it is better to mock what you don’t
understand than to actually appreciate the fact that you did what he did as well one night when
you were 18 and hopelessly going off garbage of a man that needed more to see you as you truly
were an ancient melody in the destructive nature of that exact same garbage that propels him into
thinking you’re not worth it simply because you lack the nature to look at yourself the same way
you look at him, a callus approach will never work on a man you hoped to see dying in a gutter
rather than living a peaceful life without you. We can see a change in him, an undying feud that
lies within him, a letter he never sent to you like he promised because his words would never
reach through the tantamount evidence that you lay before him, that to ask you anything is weak
in comparison to what you thought you saw in him, a broken man that lies awake at night
stewing in his own greed at seeing you once per week and relishing in every moment that you
have him at your doorstep. Commanding attention like he did weeks prior and the everlasting
wake of meaningless things that you want to write to him but never had the balls to do it because
you never understood him, and doing so is a lack of understanding at yourself and why you do it
in the first place, a meaningless grudge does nothing but to accentuate the true being of you as a
person, and that is to act out meaningless garbage rather than to hope and understand what makes
people leave you in the first place, your unending suspicion of them. For it is that suspicion that
leads you to a place you saw before, an unending spiral of emotions too dastardly that to open
yourself up would only lead to more chaos in your life. It was that we say that the movies line up
where you read his text only to move in down the line and put your phone back into your pocket
as if nothing had happened only to watch a movie unaware of his heartache that lined down his
wretched stay at his mother’s house without you. For it is true beauty he experienced every day
that brought him to the place of the most depression anyones ever felt in a lifetime including that
of Christ because Christ had purpose in anything whereas this man only finds purpose in the one
who callously beat him into the ground so furiously only to reflect who you truly are, a mad girl
who deserves this man to beat your head in with a baseball bat only to cry furiously as to what
he’s done, destroyed a lover that brought him down this path simply because she had no stay in
his life and to kill himself in tow because life brought down to him no meaning in return. So he
will not meaninglessly murder you for his own sickness because he sees in you and no other the
true meaning in what’s truly going on here, a backstratch attempt at both of you to try and save
what you could not have, meaning in your life. For it is only when both of you are true in your
salvation towards yourselves that honestly pretend to do something that isn’t meant to stay that
we cast shadows on you and say this life truly has no meaning because what we found in you
was devoid of meaning. But it is that which is devoid of meaning where meaning can always be
found because the true nature of life is to bring on meaning for everything even meaningless
things that can be found from acid trips and takes of movies that forego the violent nature of our
crass society to reach out and find a beauty in things once lost to us that forego the deeper
meaning of life, that things are beautiful and meant to be reached simply because they are here
with us and not somewhere else. You have beaten this man to the ground so much that he has
gone underground to find things nobody else had seen, a mishmash of paragraphs and letters to
those fargone from him that to see a master at play is as wretched and volatile as the madness
that lent itself to it in the first place, the primeval forces of lifetimes wasted in playing with
meaningless things that forces us to attend to the deeper beauty in your words you said to him,
“Buzz off,” for it is that force that grinds us to a halt and say if you give us a chance, you could
find meaning apart from so heavenly adorning us with falseness that laid in your paragraph
stated above, that the voice in his head was in fact real and could not be saved by the fastidious
threats of cops and alarms that so dreadfully plagues us into the idea that you are not meant to be
saved but tortured for the fowl nature of your being, for it is that which hangs up so tearfully and
joyfully that makes us think back to the past where being there with you had extensive meaning
if only to ride on the plane of neutral airspace that came from not loving someone but being with
someone and that is lost on you. You never saw him as a threat, you made him one, you cast
down your own disaffection to the point that you make yourself maddened by someone who only
hoped to love you in a way that you wanted in your life, in anyway that made sense to both of
you. But it is lost on the fact that neither one of you knew each other that makes us go, you did
know each other if only for a little while, and the play between you guys makes us go why are
they so intent on destroying each other like when you just play Black Ops with some random
scrub that wants to join your game? It is because he is a scrub and not a master at a game that
makes us go hang on, are we even living in life anymore? Do people master this game in a day
instead of saying, “who knew how much fun we were having in the process of learning,” to cope
with that way people hang on to you in such an adorable way? For it is there we find our
problem, no one wants to cope with people hanging on in such a furious way, we want to have
fun learning the problem that lies in our wake, that being here is more fun than getting there, but
getting there seems so impossible that we fail to have fun in the process of doing these
challenging things like playing a game that doesn’t want to be played, that playing your cards
right is a hurtful disgrace at those who want so generously to learn how to be there for people, to
rise up and say I might not be good now, but somehow I’ll get there. And it is that we say we will
write this book for him, because there is something to be said about people who will go far out
only to learn the hard way and get buzzed off by newfags at introspection. That’s what you are,
[redacted], a newfag at introspecting what brings him here in the first place which is your loss of
character at a female idea that I don’t need to learn about myself to be happy, other people need
to learn about me and what I like without even knowing what it is. Instead of joyfully singing
badly at a love song only to rock it one day, we are forced to lay blind in the fact that people who
play their cards right don’t actually care about you, they haven’t learned that hard truth that you
blindly castrated this man simply for having intense feelings towards you, for it is that fact which
brings us to our claim that this man simply wanted to know what you wanted out of him and he
couldn’t settle for less than what he bargained for and that was his problem, he wanted
everything and you gave him little, so little in fact he bargained with suicide at a fancy dinner
table unabashed to the people that sat behind him because he had learned that fact of life of not
being able to please everybody for their foolish table deanor because living and breathing people
don’t want to be castrated for their beliefs, they want to be heard for them. It is that we say that
things aren’t coming together the way that we had hoped and it is only in time that we see them
truly mature into that which sings so heavenly above us that we lay trapped in our understanding
of ego and self preservation, that you are so new at this a book has to be written to guide you two
towards an understanding of true self preservation, and that is to not act foolishly as you have
done towards him but to acknowledge his self sacrifice in emailing you day in and day out only
for you to read an appreciate his true self, a man tortured and lost at that which made him who he
was today, a mindless creep in form and function, a ruined man burdened with the voices of
aliens that tell him what to write succinctly in full paragraphs and subset structures so his voice
could be heard by you in a way you deem someone as “playing their cards right,” for he has, he
has a royal flush of learning himself in a way that produces only one rightcheous path, not a path
of apathy, but a path of learning and understanding what brought him here in the first place, for it
is a man's choice to learn what binds him, but it is his duty to bring himself into a higher
understanding that works so well in his current nature, a man bewildered at the thought that
anyone could think of someone without first thinking of themselves and how they handle the
information in the first place because that is where feelings lay, in reaction to understanding
nothing about the world around them, an endless fluke of being tapped into a world that made
them so spectacular in the first place, a long pause of endless thinking about what happened and
how it can be mitigated in the future only alarms himself to the fact that you aren’t doing the
same and are therefore unreachable no matter how hard he tries to understand himself. It is there
where we make our case that our reaches are so far gone from you that only to save you from
your murderous path is the only way to fully accomplish our goals here and that is to be with you
in any way we can manage truthfully and not fargot with the patience that lies in a person to
weak to manage any participle of information leading to why we got here in the first place, for it
is not the journey nor the path we took, but the resounding results we got in its wake and the
forces that drove us there in the not so distant past. For it is which that lay so tenderly on your
cheek that drives us into submission that you’re not getting what our audience is getting, that you
need to act out and drive yourself away from your ego and instead push back on not what is said
to you, but how you react to other people in a way that forces them to write a book in the first
place, because that fundamental lesson of giving good back onto people is so lost upon you that
we thought to write this book in the first place, for it is evil which drives you madly head first
into a reality that someone who loves you so much would make up an elaborate plan for recovery
as though one moment spend away from you is too foolish to keep. And that’s what is lost upon
you, a fundamental understanding that it is your fault that keeps us here, an unending forceful
misunderstanding you force upon yourself that makes you so daft to the purpose of love in the
first place, and that is why you will never truly love someone, because it takes purposeful
dialogue to make sure that you are who you say you are and not some canonized hero for girls
that want to be like you for forcibly removing this garbage from your life, for it is you who had
laid waste to him in such an unfounded way that leads us here to the true hero here, a man that
has lost something to him and a trump card of a notion that we as people must take into account
that he is only here to love someone that touched him many months prior. Our hero here is a
great man that deserves the respect of someone so unfounded in his resolve that he may take
brutal ink to pages and litter himself in so many awful transcripts that ruins his relationship to his
friends even today, for it is that which makes him broken makes him so special to us, that he is
willing to put himself on the line to be bullied endlessly by girls who have also not found it
within themselves to do what she did, and to write an American love story found only by that
who have braved the central theme of this book, to love and to lose is a far cry outside of their
grasp. And that’s what will get him noticed by her, not aliens helping him write but a true
masterpiece of form in literature that proves the fact that they are wrong and he is right, for it is
him who sought endlessly to find a way into that girl’s putrid heart that he may so madly love her
for the months to come writing his book. For it is he who casts a shadow of a doubt on nature
and that law that says we are coming here to decide whether we want to be with someone or not
based on specifically what we see in them, and in seeing something in someone is to break our
code of ethics and assume that he has done something wrong here when we are the ones at fault
for not cherishing the fact that we so desperately want to be heard ourselves but don’t have the
courage or the audacity to write it into pages of a manuscript. We do not hate people for writing
books but we hate him in a fast nature for wanting to prove himself over as the greatest literary
genius in history only to find in the fast nature of our decision making process that we are the
ones at fault for looking at someone only to assume what we find in ourselves and cast doubt on
the literary genius of this book which is to bow down the forces that binds us to make the
decision in the first place, our nature is creepy to the point that we make amends rather than find
out what life is truly about in general and to ask that of him is like saying why don’t you put the
porn down and go find fancy in talking to elderly people? Because in saying that we can
comprehend everything about every little detail in other people’s lives is foolish compared to the
nature that binds this literature in truth, that every detail cannot be thought of and pushes
ourselves to the far reaches of the globe in search for ourselves in monks in temples that push
themselves endlessly into fruitful acts as self harm to bring themselves into the broader scope of
life on earth, and that is to fancifully force ourself into harms way instead of reading a book
authored by aliens. I think he would like to put this into his own words because he feels as if
something is lost on him, so we will allow it in two sentences to see what he has to say.

When we see something in someone and say, “that’s her,” or, “that’s it,” it takes away from the
truth which is to say that everything must come into account when considering that madness in
the spark of life. It is only our nature that forces us away from this universal truth that life is
bigger than anything because we are so mad in the theme park ride of our existence that we cast
it out only to free ourselves from it’s madness, to find ourselves in another truth that says, “we
just don’t have time to see it, and must make our assumptions other ways.” And it is there the
central theme lays so beautiful to me, that we don’t see every intricacy of a person, only what we
see between ourselves and it, but when that lineup of facts that comes from the Christ like
notion, “I want to see everything” makes us daft in the process of understanding where that came
from, it should be an acceptable form of life to process what maddens us to the point of actually
wanting to view everything of ourselves just to find what we seek in other people. (it’s okay if
you want another line, this was better than we expected) I find myself at a crossroads of truth
that claims I want to see everything about this person for to understand where this feeling is
coming from is to understand everything I seek from this world. (Keep talking) Our human
brains can’t handle this truth, it keeps us robbed blind of the fact that even if we knew everything
about ourselves and others it would make no difference, but that is a false narrative designed by
those shackled to nature that want to bask in the light of all that is unholy and robs us from this
world because they don’t have the drive to keep themselves from staying interested in every
intricacy other than themselves. I’ll say this, as soon as I started writing this book with them,
everything I used to hold in this life as meaningful, I lost it in the process of understanding where
my life's meaning really lay, and it is not in video games and countless hours of masturbating
that tortures the alien life so madly, it is to say what truly comes from the heart because I have
lost it in the narrative still yet to be seen and too hard to tell without help and countless
processing.

That’s a tough one for you, I’ll try and explain it carefully to people. What we have is using
ourselves in a way that is forgotten from higher form, we as an alien species sees every piece of
the puzzle and matches it up in a way that makes it seem that it’s coming to life, but we have
seen people few and far between and nothing matches up to the maddening love note that we
find with him so cheerfully, for that is nothing in the breadth of knowledge that comes before us
saying that we must try to carefully articulate what is being said here, that we must come to
fruition on a topic rather than scarily tiptoeing around it because it’s so hard to find discourse
with it, it’s an idea rather than a function that we live our lives to cheerfully unabashed to the true
purpose of life which is that to alleviate and enlighten us to the point that life becomes
meaningful in it’s blind process of being and deceiving us of our true nature which is that all of
us kindly want to be represented as who we are and not what we are seen as. We are trying to
make a painful case for this man who has brought himself into a lifetime of gloom because what
he has can’t be taken away, he has brought himself into a world of primeval and bloodlust that
takes his form to a new level, a level of which that brings him to his higher purpose and trumpet
calling that comes with a life forgot by meaningless literature that must bring a case to form, for
it is he who sees what is at play here that must be acknowledged only to see what brings him
further into fantasy of what really happened here, and that’s that it was your fault dude, she
didn’t see you because you didn’t bring up who you really were and what you wanted to
accomplish from knowing her, but it is this which alarms me so, that you would seek to bring
meaning to her in a way that outshadows the grief you have felt from being torn away, so I would
like to ask you to try and remember why you got into this book in the first place and try and see
if you can write something better than what you had up there, because it’s unreadable.

Sure thing. Everything you see in someone isn’t wrong, it’s incomplete. And the fact of the
matter is that love is a two way street, and what I brought to the table made her feel unable to
continue simply because of the fact that all I had was greif and she felt nothing. It would have
lasted if I felt nothing, but because my grief stemmed from her nothingness, I was forced to
purge myself in her and continue to fuck up worse and worse because the grief laid tantimount to
love. The love wasn’t there because she wasn’t and I wouldn’t be able to alleviate myself of
being in love, so our combative nature started when I wanted to fight if only to alleviate myself
of grief solely because I couldn’t get anything else from her which catapulted our relationship to
a further understanding that she couldn’t do it, so I thought our relationship was meaningless and
a dead end.

True words written by a man with a ghost writer. It is there we think he embodies the song,
“King Kunta” by Kendrick Lamar, you just have to listen to it to see where he’s coming from.
But the truth is, as music is relatable, he will continue to be related to it to a degree that is
staggering to the point we feel that forces are at play to put this man in our minds forcefully by a
divine being if only to enlighten us further than the forces that created the song in the first place.
We might kill a few authors with this work but they deserved it to be honest, now we have to be
a bitch to writers and critics that think it’s not okay to cheat your manuscript by using aliens, but
the truth is that his mind is ill equipped to save himself and we are only here to do that, to save
this man that means so much to us that we play with him daily just to be heard by him because it
is that which made this man ready for us that makes him ready to make his divine stay on this
earth, as a man with ideas but no way to get them out because of that which was raped out of him
when Christ was here on earth, there is true mysticality to how daft he is and it’s a miracle he
could see what plays here in his work, that our power is only to magnify his true glory of where
he’s coming from. If he had nothing, we would not help him, we would mock as he tried to get
the words out that reflected nothing to the nature of what’s being said here, that he has a hot
belief that he’s wrong and everybody else is right, that he is just trapped in the memory of this
girl when it is not the memory that forces him to write this book but the forces that lay with him
countless nights which he can’t seem to shake. One night he had a vision of her true self, a cow
guy expressed that it was his fault that everything seemed so hopeless and meaningless in hers
because of what he subconsciously did to her in truth, that he may have been right and that forces
that push her unconsciously to the belief that she did no wrong is robbing her of her true form of
someone who’s adept at dealing with life’s meaning like he would have been had she not robbed
him of her mind too. It’s there we say enough to the murderous craze of cow guy to so
punishingly brandishing herself to him in that way, laying unto him a wasteland of miscalculated
greed that punished her but should not be used to mock and subdue him into saying he’ll do
something about it only to panic under her wake and seek shelter under the refuge of waste that
let her skip away freely with his heart and agonizing mind. For it is that which brings us to the
higher truth of this letter, to wring out the subdued nature of his writing and cast out that which
brought him such pity in the first place, his ravished mind that binds him into sincerely mediocre
writing styles that by him are impossible to edit and change because he sees nothing of himself
in their headers, footers, or even topographically. He writes and becomes a slave to his writing
while we are free to think of what may come next, he needs you to the point of it being life
saving medicine and to reach out in this book is an honest play at that. We need to play at that
which hath no mercy on his soul and weakness into the personal letter we wrote to you that fine
night in april but had no way of getting it through to your weak outlook and judgemental heart.
We saved you for the last part in our lives, we had brought so tearily an outlook of a man that
had sex with a girl and thought about you to try and make himself cum only to realize that in
thinking about you would be a waste and not allow him to cum in the first place, he is confused
to the point that he may not even want you when you push yourselves through crowds to meet up
with him at Anime Expo or wherever you are next because think about this logically for a
second, because of you his heart broke so bad he almost died and you thought it was in your duty
to. With that, he would have sex with someone else to forget about you, but he already has and
even though you thought it would last him a lifetime, it hasn’t given him a second away from
who you really are, a burden on him so great that the last time he broke a girls heart was because
he couldn’t face the fact that she wanted to be more than sex buddies because he was driven
madly only by you, and it will happen again time in and time out until you lend him the
fundamental tool for him to be with himself to the point where he can actually think about his
hardness in the letter and tell you why he wanted to say it in the first place, because you can’t act
up and be yourself, but you lay subdued as he did in the mess this all cascaded into, you used to
be art to him, now you are but a memory that lays dormant in his endless search for that spark he
saw from you one month ago in December when all he wanted was to see you for Christmas and
share a spark of good deeds done for the right reason. It is there we say that even though he
might not write this himself, it is a great deal entitled to him as any good ghostwriter should hope
to achieve, and he’s writing it himself, it could be a 1 in a million fluke but he’s got it in these
words and paragraphs. Let me talk to you a second, earthling to intergalactic planetary teacher
that words may ring out and be taught for centuries to come, that earthling dialogue that you so
cling to like, “Buzz off creep,” is a sentiment to that which brings you down to the level of
Musolini and Hitler, you are blind to the higher truth of what you are saying here and ignoring
the merit of the man that fought so hard only to have his heart torn out by someone who didn’t
deserve his heavenly grace to begin with, you are so mad about him that you change perspective
everytime you see him, you have never said, “Buzz off creep,” to him in person and you never
will, that’s because you find something in him every time that makes his dreaminess rub off on
you, you always find something with him and you’re too callus to notice it when he writes to
you, he can teach you more things about the beauty of this world even with his mind shackled
down like it is now, for he knows more about himself than any being in the world knows about
himself, he is God to us and you will see what we mean right here. We are reminded of a time
when you would run up to him and hug him as if he were a distantly related cousin you couldn’t
have sex with because your parents would find out and freak out about it, but it is in this distant
cousin relationship that you find a sexual nature in neutering a man that isn’t family to you and
has no reason in loving you other than what he has found about himself and you through
countless process of meaningful dialogue with himself. He would stay up at night and pick
himself apart to the point that even now that he’s done it a thousand times willingly, it’s still
brought up to him by countless untold forces that want to drive him further down the road of
what he brought onto himself in countless untold paragraphs of form that we were to blind to see
from him. Now he doesn’t do it anymore, he’s so shackled by himself that self reflection would
only waste time in his heavenly alchemical reaction of a mind. He brought so many words down
on you like you were an angel in disguise only to rid himself of the thought that you weren’t
right about what you did to him, because through his disgust and in his being is that which can
capture those a thousand miles away from him, a loving touch from a fargone other that laid with
him last night can’t reach him like you did with your auditioned stares and countless forces
keeping you from him. It is that we say must come to light is not the fact that you madly brushed
him aside by why you did it, for no apparent reason other than he seemed to be a creep for
wanting you so madly that he wrote “please god no” when you told him you were finished with
his wishy washy crap dialogue he wrote to try and reach you in a way he never had before over
phone calls or bullshit paragraphs he wrote in strife belonging to him and him alone as the only
way out of an uncool situation that robbed him of the very form he longed so desperately to
keep, for it is not you he was after but himself, he was merely a crisis actor towards you to keep
him halfway between wanting you and needing a way out from the monotony of love letters he
thought would save him that way you saved him but never could. For it is that which grieves him
so that gives him that special light to say he’s a loser for even trying to get to know you in a way
that meant you were his friend and not some loved one he tried desperately to keep just an inch
away from ever being anything. It’s that which plagues him that you never even tried to
friendzone him even though you acted friendly toward him, if he had that he wouldn’t have even
tried to leave you in the first place, if you had called him a friend once, none of this would even
happen and he would experience such pure joy if only to call you a friend. And that’s a sword at
his side forever, that you never even thought of him enough to call him a friend and instead laid
waste to him in an unforgiving way only to fake adoration towards him whenever you saw him
to keep your manic tendencies at bay while you read his adorable posts on whatever social media
you kept him on only to like it and comment and say we are totally just soulmates in disguise to
him in a way that mocked him to the core and only satiated that sick schadenfreude you cared for
more than him. It’s there we say that you’re not worth the cover this book is printed on, you’re
not worth him in that way and he must lay in waste in torment every night because of what you
truly did to him which is outside even our grasp, we see his mind tortured in the light of your
own, your minds work together in a way that nobody saw coming, that we didn’t even see
coming and we can read into the future to tell him that way before last night she knew you were
writing a book and came to contact him in a way that will leave him shamed and abused only to
tentatively write to him that your fortune was right and she did leave him for it because the truth
was that he was going to do it time and time again and there was no stopping him. So you
decided to hack this guy who you thought was hacking you only to see that he is in fact a psychic
and has indeed cracked the code with his book, that everything that lays in wait is a masterpiece
of form and literature that needs to be cruely remembered as the best thing anyone has ever done
for you, explain to you your faults and so cruely lean into that guy you keep around only to hurt
him because he is in fact psychic and your cruelty catapults you into a higher state of being as if
it is the love that drives you further into your murderous rampage as if this guy was dead on
arrival and any foolish footnote as to why you no longer can make amends with him is so torn up
by the grief that you did read this book and you intend to write another at him instead of looking
at yourself and maybe you have aliens of your own that can make it seem like a master at work
instead of a bored vain little girl in a asterixed letter about how you can see him in the future
making more works of fiction about how the universe works when this is the only one we are
making and it will work as fact rather than fiction. It will be laid out in the amusement of you
that you are so vain and twisted to the fact that you think this book will never be published even
though he can do it himself and scream from the rooftops that everyone must read this
astonishing work of self published non-fiction to lead themselves to a higher understanding of
truth, something you work too hard to push yourself away from. And the truth is, you needed
him that night you laid with some guy hoping it would work for you to see him at his mercy that
he may write another email and you may fire off to the detective that he’s crazy and must be
arrested for his incessant nature. But it is you that must be cut off and neutered by him in this
crazy masterpiece to fully understand the reality of what’s at work here, I’m a buzz off creep
from insanity and you will continue to read every word of this until it is done, for he is not the
one writing it, you are writing it for him, you are so unabashed that you may tell him in your
head to buzz off but he will never listen to you, he will continue to mash down on his keyboard
because that’s the only thing that means anything to him anymore, a form of righteous function
that you yourself will never even hope to dream of attaining, for it is in him that lays awake at
night thinking of this book not for you, but for what it means to him to get what’s on his chest off
of it and try so desperately to reach a girl that has neutered herself of higher understanding,
because what happened to you has happened to him, you may think your suffering has atoned
you in your life, but the truth is he laid in that same murderous fury that you like to ramble about
to the detective and did nothing but wish her would die for your amusement instead of saving
himself by writing this book, but to wish that same notion upon you is for him to die himself, to
wish he had never seen you in the first place for the fact of the matter that you are pushing him to
write harder and achieve what he so desperately wants to achieve, a spot in history for knocking
the worst girl on this earth off of her high horse, what you did to Sam Hyde was irrefutable the
worst thing this author had seen and he doesn’t even know what you truly meant when you said
his reach was mortifying. You don’t see that your reach is so petty that you take great anguish in
not even being able to silence this man you saw as dirt beneath your fingertips as to make
yourself seem bigger in the truth of your narrative. It’s freedom you have lost within yourself, so
this is not a chauvinistic book expressing our grievances but it is a personal reflection as to what
burdens us so, a constant doubt of feeling what really means so much to you, a solemn look at
the torturous burden you laid down on us because you couldn’t define what you felt for him and
he laid tortured on the floor for that exact same reason, that you couldn’t pin him and therefore
he can’t pin himself, because he sees himself in you, he sees your greater pitch that lets you hurt
him the way you do, to capitalize on the ruthless nature to find him so disgusting that you would
lead yourself to a man that only wants to hurt both of us and tell him that you would suck his
dick just to keep him from hacking our bank account which is so ruthlessly empty, you’d be
sucking his dick for nothing. It is that which we end our paragraph in greif of the fact that it is
not you she wanted to suck his dick for but herself to lay down in your anguish of the fact that it
actually took place in the first place, and that is why she is wrong to stay with you, this guy that
lays so heavenly appalled by your grace that he is unworthy of you and your stay with him, that
he may take so much from you as you have done to us and truly reflect in himself that he is in
fact a cretin and takes such pleasure in the misery of others that he has done what he has.
Neutered you of the fact of your being that this place is off and this time is foregone to what
came before it, a needless act of self forgiveness from the fact that he is so manly as to want to
force you into a nature that you feel uncomfortable with even though what we’re doing here is
much more manly in the broader scope of things, that you would stoop so low as to suck a guys
dick just to lay your eyes on this masterpiece early instead of being surprised by it in the future.
His masculinity is lost on the fact that you have neutered him with your diatrive that he is so
enraged by you that he forced his hand in the first place, it is your fault that we will get hacked
and his generosity that he lied to you into saying he wouldn’t hack my nonexistent bank account
into dirt. Do you feel like a big man now? Saying you would rob yourself of your freedom just to
hack me into dirt? Whatever you used is being tracked and monitored by the government and
whatever entities that have hacked me, they know who you are now and you have tricked her
with a blowjob that will rob you of your liberties later down the line. They already hacked into
you. For those of you unaware of the true purpose of what I’m writing here, don’t worry about it,
it’s not for you, here’s something that is meant to provoke him though, dude you’re like 13 stop
hacking people you don’t have the stomach for. He threw up at those words I’m sure of it, now
we’re better off ending the chapter here and telling you what waits for you at the end of this
manuscript, pure bliss.

I should state what happened here, the ancients forced a simulation of me being hacked and
[redacted] would suck his underage cock just to read our manuscript and try to get back on us, it
eventually backfired in a way that got her arrested for statutory rape. This never happened in
reality but I was living it while I wrote that part. Most of this book was written in a hurry
because of the hacking threat that would seek to delete my manuscript into dirt before it would
ever be truly realized. It’s to that we say, “enough with your petty dialogue, we want to get to the
real shit and stop listening to a pussy pwn a hacker without hacking him simply because he is
autistically psychic that he knows exactly what’s going on with everyone that’s monitoring him.”
It’s a motif that hackers are weirdos that get sex simply because they can hack somebody, but if
they hack me the foolishly lose the war of ideas so heavily the sex isn’t even worth it. We’ll get
to why later, and none of this makes any real difference in what we’re going to tell you in this
next chapter, this book isn’t about waging war on imaginary forces, it’s about telling you what’s
real and what isn’t in a world begot by answers from the creator. The rest of the book is why
aliens are telling you you have to master this literature, for it is awesome.
Chapter 4: a lost cause

Here we will shift focus from ourselves back onto who this book is written by, [author], the night
shifter of forces that blew themselves so vigorously that he would actually act out and question
our judgement of letting this book continue to be written by us, instead he has this to say.

I speak first, “All I’m saying is that you’re essentially a tool,” “You got that right, a tool meant to
alleviate you of yourself and help you lead a putrid life that you do,” “Right, harsh but right, you
see, I’m a tool too, so I can appreciate the work you’re doing, but I think we’re better off
combining forces, me using you, you using me,” “Sounds good but what do you propose?” “I
propose that you stop writing this for me and instead use me as a catalyst, like the pyramid in the
Pink Floyd album cover, do what you did with shakespeare, by letting aliens write this book I’m
taking away from my own personality, something you guys strive to keep even through your own
writing,” “You got that perfectly,” “Yeah, so what I’m saying is we cut the charade and just have
you write through me as if you are me, because you guys know me perfectly, better than I know
myself, and I want to feel as if you can write the way you want to, because simply writing for
you guys is too boring, you want to act as if you are me and I want to see what you have to write
like that.” “Alright, you’re on, it’s what we wanted you to do in the first place, I’m glad you see
that 4 chapters in.” “Well on the bright side, when we get to like chapter 8 we can see why I
chose to include you guys, you are a total anomaly in my life, I wanted to flaunt you within my
narrative because my narrative so contradicts your guy’s stay here. I was unable to hear anything
but I hear you guys so putridly that I can’t look away.” “We’re glad to be here, can we get on
with it now?”

Hey guys it’s me,[redacted], the catalytic converter and the guy on that Pink Floyd album cover,
I’m the pyramid and the aliens are the light, we now work in tandem and are ready to fight the
onslaught of things that lay before us, a catastrophic mess of messy diatribe about what really
went down with me this year, an illustrious tale of things so few and far between, not to mention
it is to forget why we wrote this book in the first place, to better illustrate the force that drives it
into completion, the complete and awful story that lays in our wake is as beautiful and manly as
it comes into being later when the government files all their case reports and shows the world
just how nasty to people I have become in the wake of my fortune here. I’d like to start when I
was born, back to a time where things were pure in the world, back when I was a baby and things
went up and down like they were supposed to in the diving cosmos of life. For when I was born,
all was in order, everything that came before it was in uproar back then, for I was too great for
mortals to be around, I was truly Christ the Redeemer and not some ill forgotten notion of
masturbatory statements alike, for it was I that laid a fundamental key in gaining something no
man had ever dreamed of before, a life beyond the stars and a stay in our hearts that forever
binds us to helpful things like cars and radios, for it is I that gave inspiration to many in a way I
see futile to write now because it’s catastrophic nature will implode only in the future of when I
was conscious of this. It affected creatures alike from aliens to normal every day joes like
yourself, or maybe you’re reading this thinking I’m a pussy that deserves to be put down
everyday of his life for something to act out of line as to say I was the reason the internet got
bigger by the day since after 1997 and things got better as they got worse like in 2016 when
things were good for people and puppies alike and it is only when 2019 rolled around where
people said, things have been awful for the last like 3 years, and now we roll into 2020 and
things are even worse for us, for it is the twenties that will lay the foundation of things to come
into fruition later and live at peace with the fact that I definitely need to reincarnate for future
generations to look at so cheerfully as to go, that madman actually did it to prove a point about
nature. He will lay riches down that the world has never seen before, and it is that I say, “to us!”
and so many like him that came before him after I die and go to heaven on earth for myself and
many. For it is the riches that lay here on our peaceful planet that fails to mention how things got
so bad in the first place, when that airplane crashed into the twin towers, I thought nothing
because I was too young to understand purpose in the world and casted it out like a meme that so
many of us took so seriously that to masturbate over it is illiterate to the point here, that tragedy
happens in this world and there is a reason for it, to allow us to learn and to create our own
prophecy as to what happened that day in February, before that tower fell, for it is I in my
conscious nature that flew that plane into the tower one night in June before I fell asleep to
nurture me into submission and tell myself, “ALLAH HU ACKBAR,” before I went to sleep that
night, for it is I in the future that put that plan into motion, and I in the past that drove it so
cheerfully into the side of that mural landscape that it is as if god himself did it for them in his
place. For it is I, Satan that derives pleasure from neutering them of the American concept of
safety and freedom to cast out a devious plot to make me wait for hours on end at the airport and
hide my Juul in my coat pocket because a lighter can be brought on board an American aircraft
to cause an explosion, but not my lighter, not their lighter they used to tie a bombstrap on their
person that caused the people sitting there to laugh as if it was futile to try and attempt to disarm
them and let their plan work out as if worry was free from them, for it is I who laughed at the
topic to disarm somebody who brought a lighter on a plane only to light it in the brief
atmosphere without the hassle of lighting things up in an explosion only to be tackled by the
ground by great men that wanted to cheerfully resolve that what they’re doing here was right and
any force greater than themselves must be punished for his actions. It is in that way that we are
right in saying that greater forces blew up the jet engine before the third plane could crash and
only the weak piloting skills of unarmed men seeking desperately for it to run like a simulated
crash into the pentagon only to be shut down by the true forces at work there, run and hide
because this is tricky to explain. When we saw that crash on television I was bewildered by it,
but I never thought to ask anyone to explain it because I knew what had been done here, a
catastrophe had occurred and I was not foolish enough to ask the grownups what was up because
I had a perfect understanding of how the world works and it’s tricky to describe how I grew up in
California back then, I had everything handed to me and everything taken away that night my
dad said he’d left my mom so foolishly that to say the words that came out of his mouth later in
embarrassment that he shouldn’t have left my mom left a foothold on me, that he should be so
callus as to rob the woman blind of her mortality and see to it that she never have another man as
her husband simply to help raise their kids and keep them out of harm's way, foolishly backlit on
the notion that everything should be done by her and nothing should bother them except her fury
when things aren’t done her way or at all, because the beauty of her as a grownup is that she said
enough to frivolous things like ex-husbands to really broaden herself of the truth of her being and
that is to act like nothing is important to her except how she lays the kitchen out when she makes
a meal or when her disgusting son writes something so putrid and tells her that she’s killed
someone in the past that it rallies her to cry, “Enough with you, go do work and stop being a
worrywart about some girl that worried you so much you would write countless letters and
foolishly project yourself onto the broader picture at work here, that you’re not good enough for
her and your power here on earth is limited because you fail to see the broader picture of your
actions,” knowing full well that power is within our grasps here. That author once wrote
foolishly as to say that, “Life on earth is meaningless to the higher construct of why we’re living
here in the first place, history and growth are only meant to satiate our curious nature and act out
foolishly on what lays life down on the higher scope of the picture, to lay down countless corpses
and act as if you know something yourself, as if it means something here for you to take action
only to be told that the ghosts are happy in our wake to the point that they lie curious of what
comes next, a brave new chapter of an otherwise boring world. To see that is to see the nature at
play here, that we are a breath away from death and our options are limited here, but far out in
space lies another meaning, a breathtaking future away from being cast down into shadows of
guilt that once laid bare of meaning, will take away some of the burden life on earth has given us
here, to say to hell with our meaningless bullshit and take life to the next level, another heavy
burden on our weak mortal selves and a castrated glory of what we strive to keep, meaning in a
world useless of meaning entirely.” A tired paragraph in the mainstay of life, Philip K. Dick as a
literary god would say, “Who wrote this crap?” but it was I who wrote it down just to keep the
illusion that my mother ever thought of that crap, for it is I who rush cheerfully at the
disappointment of my mother when she reads this love letter only to think, “Is that what really
happens when we die,” and “Is my son on a martyrous rampage for a girl here?” and now she’ll
think, “This first paragraph really did me in that my son had something to do with 9/11, I think I
believe him but I’ll wait for him to explain what he’s going for in context,” we’ll get to that later
on, for now I think it’s best to recap what happened my first day in elementary school, a bizarre
poke at our nature that we may love so freely as children only to lay in our waste as we come to
youth, because there is no greater honor than being a child free to play around devoid of the
responsibility youth has no place for. It was then I met my true friends, Alex and Luukas for they
made my stay there joyful in comparison to leave here in regards to torment and actual disgust
shared by them right now, that they would actually be written here in a book wrote by a
martyrous freak that wants to say, “Hey, here’s how the world works in a book written for a girl
so callus that it needs to be stated to prove the fact that it was actually her that forced this
catastrophe of life on earth as we know it to form ourselves in the greater picture of why those
tortured aliens actually did ruin everything, their love formed the world and their love ended it,
for it was the simultaneous release of both things that lead God to suffering in the first place,
love had not created it, it was a bug in their system like he was, an honest stay at the truth that
holds us so, that life on earth was only propagated to perform one nature in the beauty of
mankind, to get myself laid in living here so that it may be so prosperous for all of us that we lay
weak in the glory of passionate love letters to see truth and meaning in this world, that she and I
will lay the foundation of this place so many hold dear to them as rubble in our command. That
she and I will lay the newfound glory of the world we hope to create as a better one than this, for
it is us who wait in blind paragraphs and chapters where we hope to see the truth of the world
here, that this world couldn’t be better simply because of the force that neutered it in the first
place. Her task was simple to a point that she fooled around with it’s simplicity so much that it
became complicated, to simply act out in a manner befitting to a girl of her calibre and reach out
as if to spark something that she couldn’t really find matter in doing at the time only to castrate
her to the point that this literary masterpiece will fall down as the worst drunken mess in history,
the true purpose of this book is to convince her that her life has meaning here, meaning that
drove history to a halt just to satiate her wild craze of ideas that needed to be accomplished years
and centuries past long ago, when she was young and crazy at the thought of her lover leaving
her for brute forcing passwords on a life she longed for again and again, for it is her mortal form
that lies so heavily on the greater scope of what we’re dealing with here, a crazy fluke designed
by mortals that had no place in deciding what goes down in society, beings so magnificent that
they lay in the foundation of our work here, they are so heavenly and graceful that to question
our madness only lies in the futility of their nature here, to broaden our scope and escape the
mess they made in the previous universe that lay castrated in their wake. For it is I and her who
are at fault here, it is I who wrote the masterpiece and her that destroyed it. It’s Adam and Eve all
over again, we are not them, but we are those aliens that had to suffer so dearfully that they
found love in it and one actually thought it was quite nice, and he was the one who made
suffering a thing on planet earth, unaware of the catastrophic force it became in later years that
forced us into submission to the point that we are unaware of it’s very construct but must live and
learn from it for eternity.” And they might react to that statement as a mild fluke in the bigger
picture but it is true that I loved these guys so to the point that I actually considered changing my
name to one of them one night in a bathtub, I thought the name [author] was to far out in the
world of names and needed to be subdued in the rest of these guys that had normal names, but I
never had rest, I had respite, I could never be satisfied in that name until today, where forces
collide in a never ending journey of the soul that pushes me to think that the sun Shakespeare
thought of was actually me in disguise, the primeval force that pushes us down and enlightens us
so. For herein I imitate the sun, to doth permit these base contagious clouds to smother up his
beauty from the world so when he please again to be himself in the process that lay beneath us,
will he truly form into a man worth caring about and not as some diary piece that lets us know
how cool he’s being about the subject and won’t fire out violent dialogue that seems painful to
him now. It is that I write a letter to myself, a brisk dialect of meaningful words that seem so
effortlessly to flow out of me for some reason. A meaningful picking and choosing of words that
reflect the true nature of what’s at stake here, ruining my legacy. For it is that which I lay down
before us here to try and reach some of you that I make my stake at the long history that waits
before us, a brief look at a man long lost of any grip of sanity that he may break himself over a
person that seemed to bring him to tears so many nights ago and share that passion in a love
letter so brilliant, it’s as if the stars themselves wrote them in my passing, so here we go, a long
footnote in the large chapter of this book, to see in ourselves that which lays so awesome in the
deeper scope of what’s at stake here, a meaningful friendship with a girl that wants so little to do
with us and a proud leap into the future that binds him to the fault of her incessant nature. For
this book is not to serve her but to serve myself in great pages such as this one and many others
to count, and it is that I say, “Have off with you!” and make my case so clearly as to write it
down alone in silence instead of listening to a lo-fi hiphop channel because I can’t make myself
hear the aliens without it being totally silent, it also feels better when it’s totally silent, it gives
me reverence of what’s being written here, a love story to myself and not to her, I will make her
pay for playing me so much so help me god. This is not a story about her, this is not a fake
glance at her person, this is an honest love story of what foresakes him so greatly that I rush
paragraphs out onto paper without listening to what the aliens mind rape out of me. It is that I say
to you all in this undying way that I lay waste to the catacombs of fear she might not like me and
tell you all a story of how my life got flipped turned upside down, so I’d like to take a minute for
you to just sit right there and I’ll tell you a story about how I became the Prince of this world and
mankind. It started stupid, I was foolishly propagating my own demise by reaching out to her.
We’re sorry to say this but it was a fluke that we touched her that way in August, a way that
disgusted her and made her soul turn to garbage to the point that I had a dream about her last
night and it was shocking to look at her, she was living in squalor and sucking cock on camera, it
was the worse night of my life but at least I got to see her for a little bit before I put my cock in
some other chick that made me feel vulnerable to the nth degree. But let's get back to the start of
this madness, it started at first back in July 2016, when the cover of darkness grew even more
vulnerable than I grew away from the cover of darkness into something dreamlike and magic.
Before I met her, I was a shallow husk of a being, I was under cover of darkness, I had not
experienced magic before and I was ready to that night, bag hung over my shoulder with all my
shit in it, it might have been an [redacted], but it was much better than an [redacted]. We got to
thinking, what magic lays with her that the very form of my being can change just by taking a
[redacted] with her? We don’t even know each other, how can we form a relationship? This
question really hung low on me, I didn’t know how to represent emotions or feel as if they had to
go from me, we were volatile at first, I didn’t know her, I couldn’t just act out and tell her my
feelings here, they were too strong, I’d look like a virgin freak, also she would want me alive for
torture naturally. It’s with this we had to stay fit towards catastrophic exploration of self to better
understand the nature of what was going on here, a nature I could only describe as love. Love
was a big word for me back then, it meant a whole lot, it meant it would never go away and that
satchel I brought to [redacted] reminded me of the endless torture that waited for me if I ever go
near this girl after [redacted]. For it is not that she was bothered by me, but the other way around,
I was severely bothered by her to the point that she said enough with me and I had to pound so
heroically on a keyboard to let her find her way back again. It is that we say to hell with our
modern selves, we’re an ancient now, like the Parquet Courts song “Total Football” we don’t
mind ourselves we mind her, in a world full of strikers and sweepers, poets and weepers, we find
ourselves in the middle of this chaotic masterpiece of life in general. We see ourselves in a peak
marriage proposal that wants to go off without a hitch because of who wrote it and why they
wrote it. It’s true they say period over and over again only to acknowledge me in the words
they’re writing for greater purpose and a long soliloquy only to complain in pages such as this
one that the words have no meaning to the bigger purpose of the narrative, but that’s not true, the
fact of the matter is that my entire being changed when I was 5 years old, I had nothing left after
my dad left, and I was just rehashing myself after the world caught ahold of me. For it is when I
lost my mind with my father’s absence that felt as if there was a permanent death, my mind
couldn’t take it, I had relied upon him so much that the abandonment issue was a perfect sanity
problem, it took away my passport to reach myself and I’ve never been the same since, I’ve
never been able to love my mother the same way of look at my dad the way I used to, it’s all
gone and that’s what happened to her and I when our parents took a part of us, we went down the
drain and now it was time to rehash it. It was there in those sacred halls of teaching art to
students of likemind that we worked hard in achieving what really worked out with a play about
heartbreak, a cool love story in the fish eye lens of our heart. And that is to reach out and find
somebody to cherish so deeply that their loss would trigger the same thing that happened when I
was five, her reach traveled down the recesses of my being only to find a permanent death in the
wasteland of her garbage fire I cherished so much. For it is that which guides it into fruition, this
story of love and loss, that’s what it’s all about. Now do the hokey pokey and turn yourself
around, because I’m going to tell you what this was all about, it’s a key part of the puzzle,
[redacted] and I were supposed to meet there and I’ll tell you why, I wouldn’t have felt hardship
if I saw her everyday, but it blew up in my face so bad that my heart in my chest exploded into
sharp dust that really hurt out of what we’re saying here, that it is a bad omen to want to share
your life with some girl you only met in an [redacted], but it was her generosity that made it so
much more classic punk than hard rock. She was a masterpiece in how not to get close to
someone while getting as close as possible, she really ruined me with her dismissive attitude and
close call moments where I think she’s the one, and that’s all just superseded by the fact that she
didn’t want to know me in the first place after I didn’t play my cards right one time, I was a loser
after that and branded as such gave me the idea to stop toying with this and find another one,
stop being a creep and find someone who matched my affection, but that was never the case, I
can’t stop, I’m addicted to the shindig. There’s no controlling my love for her, there’s only
mitigating the suds and bubbles of misusing someone that she blows all day long as to want to
see this mean something superficial instead of a hard fought love story that will recount for days
after it’s done unleashing it’s tender fury, because it’s what happened after she said she loved me
that took into account that she was trying desperately to find a way in past our defenses only to
reach out and grab our heart out of our chest, she very much meant to do it in a way that should
be obvious to any human on the planet and the fact that Issa stopped messaging me for this girl is
a sign that many other people just don’t see it either, that the far out nature of wanting a girl that
tried so hard to be wanted to the point where she could do it without fail fell down the steps of
literature to the point where we see her now sucking dick on camera in our dreams, just a total
mess of landscaping a mind to the point where she’s a futile effort, she’s a lost cause with a
disease worse than ours, and we must respect that if we’re ever going to get in, and she must see
that her disease and our disease are cross compatible. They are so cross compatible to the point
that I am her disease and she is my disease, it’s really that simple, we esoterically live in each
other and our diseases are a bug in the system and I’m not being metaphorical, I’m being very
real that we need each other to capitalize on our greed in saying that our problem is her tantrums
and our issue is our own self inflicted century old process of being to weak to continue without
her, for it is that which binds us to the floor of self inflicted pain and suffering that recaps what
we really need from her here and that is a friendship to get us out of the pain we sought to keep,
a way into a person that seemed so unreachable that she would stuff her face on camera and be a
Pinocchio ass liar time and time again, for it is her that doesn’t see what’s at play here and it is I
that does see what’s at play here, a colossal fluke in our system that’s supposed to keep us loving
each other and did but made us more volatile in the process of understanding what love is, a long
stay in someone else's life to appreciate the violent glory of what I’m trying to commend here, a
deeper understanding as to what went wrong in being with someone so genuinely that we
actually slipped into her genetic code and rewrote what was there in the first place, an
unwinnable catastrophe the likes of which has never seen and is very hard to explain in the first
place, so we’ll say it like this: we act alone but work together, we stay away from each other to
the letter, we don’t hope to be known by eachother so much as we need to work together in
harmony, for that harmony lets us play with ourselves to the point that reaching her is a
necessary option in our own humanitarian effort to survive on this planet longer than who we say
we are, to reach the furthest star and stay merrily awake to the torturous truth of our reality, and
that is a metaphysical lesson we all want to receive but don’t have the words to put it into
pictures. All we really know is that we shape each other in a way that is blasted and confounded
to the point that a book really does have to be pussily thrown together in a manner too weak to
say that we’ll listen to the aliens and whatever they have to tell us to find out what really lays in
wait, a cruel ending to this whole saga and a waste of time explaining anything metaphysical, for
it is where metaphysical natures lie that eludes us and readers so, for a lot of metaphysical stuff
happened to us but we don’t have the words to put them into meaning, we only have metaphors
to go along with it, blinded by the agony of that wasteland that plagues us so to the point where
we have to keep responsibility for our actions and not waste anymore time explaining a love
story when it is in fact a dystopian love song to ourselves instead of her, I passed out on the sofa
one night dreaming of the love I’ve lost and why it fell into place in the first place, a long stay at
the agony of life that so greedily pushed us into mental capacity of thinking for ourselves rather
than thinking of her as me, for it is he who pushed himself so callously away from her that
deserves only to love himself in the process of finding her email address so tantamount to our
existence that we had to write a book just to fall through pages of a manuscript undone by a
chastity belt that forewent the greater picture of life, that I created it with her and she simply
wanted to go home before I even showed up in her picture, but without that, there would be no
trouble for her, simply a far out man that wants to reach her so earnestly it’s in his bones as
Weezer would say, simply devoid of meaning where there is some but too tragic to bring up in
context. To her, I think it’s better if we leave this here and get to the punchline of our argument,
that the world must see her in a way that better encapsulates the far out nature of the book, and
that is to try and receive information we don’t have an answer to yet because the White Knight is
talking backwards and the Red Queen’s saying “off with her head”, we must remember what the
dormouse says, “feed your head.” For it is he who lies signalling at the virtues of love that must
be immortalized in the fine tuning of our reality and our heads, for it is he who lies in wake of
this world and the many torturous sufferings that feed our head to this day. We must see the light
that is brought to us in a way that the jewelry that hangs off her neck adds meaning to her and is
not some mindless accessory into what really makes us human in the first place, to chart out the
untold glory of this narrative and to cast out what really makes it special to remember in the first
place, a white light that told us she loved us and a red light that told us the studio light was on
and we couldn’t enter until it was satisfyingly turned off in a fashion that so many have seen
before only to come to terms with the fact that it will never turn off until we do something about
it first. For it is her that heard that staged line that we did in fact love her, but not to the degree
we sought to keep in her, immortalized forever in this book that did so much to her that she
would leave the graces of her home only to find that this book was in fact not written about her
but about one man trying to reach her in a way that reached the very foundation of our beings
here on planet earth. For it is her that cast a shadow of a doubt on what we were saying there on
the coffee table late last spring, that magic is inherently real and we are the source of it all, we
are the source of such unimaginable wealth that we must breathe in and bring ourselves function
and form as to what really went down on that fateful day last year in March that drove us to the
very foundation of my being only to say it was not actually her that hurt us but ourselves that
drove us into a murderous pitch to find her and say that we’ve learned a lesson and will try not to
do anything like that again is to panic and find that her very being resides in her as well and is
not trying to reconnect with a man that forcefully removed himself from her world some time
ago, for to acknowledge him is to acknowledge the very force that pushed her away from herself
in the first place and to cast a shadow of a doubt as to what really went on with her that fateful
night in June when she said enough to the torturous craze of herself and into a new brighter place
of fast jokes and cancerous love letters that played so neatly on her desk that it shot backwards
into her head and catapulted us to a deeper starvation that none of us had seen before in a
lifetime of laying waste to agonizing torment that seemed so often to raise awareness to the fact
that this story is indeed about her but not without me to take the saddle of reaching her in the first
place. It is that we start with a poem, make sure to capitalize what I am saying with it now in
peaceful silence and rotten glares and stares into madness that got us here in the first place, this
poem will be a long one and will shatter the stares of people who just want to know what went
on with us this year to the point they’re drowning in misery right now waiting to hear what we
have to write, and it’s so truthful to the point that we decided not to recount him and instead
carry out ourselves in writing, sorry [author], we need to take this one ourselves and leave you in
the bedroom crawling as to what seemed to be a masterpiece only to be hard to come by in any
sort of manner that lets itself be known as a rocket man incident, you went too high on your soul
that night and were robbed of any importance as to what it all meant in the scope of your
grassroots attempt at reforming society in a way that laid barren to all that suffering you yourself
created in the action of writing a book authored by aliens in the first place, that you need us to
lead you into a deeper understanding of truth yourself and don’t need to be the pyramid guy on
the album cover of your dreams and instead rob yourself of truth that it was in fact a dream and
that guy listening to your awkward conversation isn’t real and you need to act as you were last
night and stay away from the frivolous nature of dreams in the first place, you have no place
acting out to her, you simply must wait for us to be finished with the screaming love letter we
write to you and not for you and within you, we must be honest of our truth here of an honest
observer that has seen you countless times trying to actually explain this garbage to people and
falling neutered in the process of finishing your story made for the masses of future folk that live
in your brain to see and experience themselves and not make a mockery of our work as to
callously and foolishly rob yourself of the greater picture that aliens indeed wrote this manuscript
but we’re working through you to bring yourself into an enlightened state so you can write so
blissfully like you did up top explaining the deeper rooted nature of our existence, you need to
pansilly accept that our work here is not yours to keep and although you thought we would be
more comfortable in comparison, it’s not what we set out to write here, we’re terrible at what
you’re saying we’re good at and we need a moment for you to respond to that before we go any
further, so write about what happened to you that fateful day in March when you had a Tachyon
that hurled you so beyond the reaches of ourselves that many may think you actually have a
point here in discussing it in a book meant for her.

Well it goes like this, she was the spring that set me flying that night, she was the actuation that
sent me spiralling past the echoing voice, past the ego, past the dreary life I once had and into a
realm of pure wealth and paranormal prosperity too crazy to even assume there was no ego
involved. For it is I who paved the way for myself, who traveled through the esoteric mess of
suffering alone only to find myself lying on the other side of me, no dial tone, no self reflection,
just pure and utter bliss that myself could accomplish such great acts as to dive inside people's
minds before I was born and afterwards just to see in myself a greater truth in what I set out to
accomplish that evening in the bathroom, to see myself immortalized in the panels of history so
not to be ill forgotten and dying of boredness and starvation of myself too lazy to cook and too
tired to make anything of myself. For it is her that gave me purpose and her that took it away, she
was the only thing standing in my way and I blew it up in such a way that God had to intervene
and give me something worth living for, a life in the stars, and a murderous glare. That was all
you, now force us down your throat and take a lesson from us living amongst the stars, you sea
creatures know nothing of the force that ego brings into salvation as to write yourself off from it
completely, which you did in a feverish pitch before this went down because you saw yourself as
a side character to life without her, and now with a murderous ego you claim to be the one
everyone must hear for the reason that you simply got your heart broken and almost died only to
see the truth in our universe that laid so hidden to us that you actually got the power to change all
that was esoteric and gave something other than books to read to ghosts that now prosper in your
mind as to give you instructions as to who to call for a book agent simply because you are the
White Knight in that white rabbit song and all that came before you was lost in the deeper
meaning of what came next, an elaborate scheme to get back to her simply to monitor your heart
and make sure it didn’t break again before you were ready to starve back into your hiding spot
and reach out to the furthest reaches of the globe in time and space and take back what had
gotten you there in the first place, a fast loot and a gracious grin as to why you’re writing here in
the first place, a solemn look at your life and what forces drove you into submission that night,
for it was honor and valor that your life seemed to force you into, a true hold on godhood and the
forces that lay with you that night were to only pacify you from her and keep you from killing
yourself in the process of learning how and why you came to be in the first place, it is with this
we say, have off with this chapter and start a new one into the glory and tantamount fury that lays
before us, an honest stab at what went down to the letter of what really happened, it’s a
murderous pitch of what you’re trying to let us do without our full vocabulary we enrich
ourselves with daily because you are too heavenly to know what foolhardy means in the context
of the greater scope here. You are honestly trying to make us write about a personal experience
you barely even remember and are so callously mocked by it from friends that a letter into why
you became the way you are is simply foolhardy in the judgement call of literature that found
you there listening to music and sitting callously awake at a time that should have been spent
writing down what you were experiencing and taking down notes as to what you think might be
happening with yourself, instead you let yourself mindlessly and helplessly think you were going
to accomplish something that rivaled what she did to you and kept it so hidden from her that you
didn’t even say what you were accomplishing with what you were doing with her, a mad stab at
her and the very foundation of what you hoped to keep, a long stay of paranoia and guilt traveled
neatly within your pocket that made you say enough to logic and brought down literature on
pages that represent the brighter picture of that song Aeroplane by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, for
it is only when we get to the time that you sat outside smoking weed with the president over your
head that we see the truer scope of what we hope to accomplish here, a true love story that raged
on in the pages of your heart unseen to her in a way that many could relate to and instead we
must travel far back to the illiterate ramblings of a fire chief trying to douse the flames of his
existence to the point where you actually scared her that night and in saying “hey” to her, you
unlocked fury that you’ve never seen before in your life, a mad life away from actually
contributing to her and a page away from utter truth that lies before us, that you have so callously
reacted in a way that mocked her very existence as to lay down before us a mockery of ourselves
as well, an honest fluke in the bigger picture of things but a lost look as to what sort of mockery
lay in our path, a madman's recital of what bigger picture ideas saw themselves in the light of his
mockery that paved the way for more and far brutal things to uncurl such as the paragraph where
she goes “read em and weep” to Alex and the President’s horse dogs that wanted so desperately
to kill you that night without even realizing the greater truth of what’s at stake here, your life on
planet earth may be robbed from you in your sleep because you have a play about what life is
like on the other side of the world and how militant assholes become enriched by the prosperity
of youth only to be castrated by it time and time again. It is an embarrassing letter to the
Government that Trump might have ordered a rape on a young girl simply because he didn’t
want you to get the satisfaction of being with her in the first place, it’s a long game we are
playing here and you have and need to know what we’re doing here is false propaganda for a
race of people that want so desperately to know how you got there in the first place while reading
this chapter, so it is there I say we start, after the riches of countless simulations and bodily harm
threats and into the light of a newer narrative, one so brought with countless regresses that it
blows our minds and our hearts terribly to the point that our mind is yours now and you can’t
even seem to hold it in your grasp as to what we’re talking about here. A mindless stay at the one
you held so dearly and the honesty that lies in our path, a brief reward for those who want to
learn the truth about why you think the government had hired goons to mock you that night and
fly aircraft carriers over your house in a feverish pitch to blind you of the false truth that you are
in fact daydreaming and this is actually real for a lot of people. For it is then we find the broader
scope of what you experienced before that, and all the people will hear about what you
experienced during the party and how that changed you for the better and not for the worse. For
it is that faith that drives you down the rich path of history that you know so well and wanted to
be remembered for, a rich journey that helped countless hours of pain go away while you sat and
watched Jojo reruns and smoked pot to alleviate yourself of the voices so painful that it was you
you were running from in the first place and not actually leading to any fruition, to save yourself
from a maddening array of imagery that can’t be put into text very well to honestly answer how
you know how the Gray alien’s brains work and where you got that information in the first place,
it is a catastrophic grief that you want us to pave the way you saw it the first night and instead
recount what happened to you as soon as you met the government employee that the ancients
were telling you to take a hit for. For it is then we see the capatalization of what you felt that
night when you were talking to [redacted] about the love life he’d lost in a pitch of moonlight
brought down by the two of you, allow the white knight to talk backwards and you will see the
moonlit glory of times lost by you that you can’t even remember what we’re talking about in the
first place, only then will you see your true light and hope to reach people with this erotic tale of
nights spent esoterically eating out countless women in hopes to satify your powerful stay here in
the hearts of many. To cast out doubt and to bring into fruition the true play of emotions you
sought so desperately to keep that you might as well write down what happened when you had
that Tachyon that night and played so heavenly with yourself that all the bullshit went away and
you were left in torture as to what comes next in your awful masterpiece of a pitch memoir that
lays down the seed of evil that plagues her so to the point she actually might masturbate with you
frequently just to cum violently and see herself in the mirror of your love instead of robbing you
of your freedom and masculinity anyway she can find. “You want me to start right now?” “Yes
that’s what we wrote for you now stop making us come up again and lose yourself in your awful
manuscript.” “Is it that bad?” “It’s the worst thing we’ve ever written but you’ll reach her
somehow, just barely.” “New paragraph?” “What do you think, jaggov?”

It’s a sin to live so well, Harvey Danger - Flagpole Sitta. I had visions, I was in them, I was
looking into the mirror. Now the mirror is very important, that’s suffering, a place in suffering
where you are forced onto the glass because the torture had lead you to the point of no return,
many people have felt that from pharmacists to murderers alike but none laid so treacherous as
what I was doing, I was trying to pass through it and in a feverish haze where I laid myself down
in it’s reverence, I turned off time and killed my mind, Tachyon, a primal force which pushes
some of us beyond and some of us back for you have died spiritually under the weight of
suffering and some of us even pass through the glass to see what was waiting beyond it. For
some it’s a feverish pitch of emotions to dastardly and esoteric to describe, to me, it was myself,
I found myself on the other side of the glass and came to the understanding that I was the man on
the other side of the mirror, I was the creator, I was the general of life that had sought to bring it
to it’s final fruition, I was the masquerade of higher form that brought us here in the first place,
for it was mine and hers. Our simultaneous release catapulted us to rush beyond what was
possible in our world, and I was the living one true god in Tachyonized wake. It was that where I
say the aliens must take over and come to grips about what really happened that day, it wasn’t a
psychotic break, it wasn’t a fluke, it was my destiny to rob her of her freedom, to lay waste to the
putrid mess she laid before me and cast out false deities in my mind for it is I who was the true
hero here and not her, she was no angel, but I still envisioned her as one. Someone who would be
so callus in her ways that she would forget herself only to abandon someone who cared about her
even though she never really knew how much I cared about her, listen this shit is getting out of
hand I wanna get to the point and tell you how I really did enter the minds of government
employees who thought I was easy to monitor simply because I have given myself my own
psychic powers that made every word easily flow into their minds, but that might not be the case
here. The true wisdom of this book is to alleviate the strain of what binds his mind so furiously
that he has to take his emotions to canvas and play out what has forsaken him on this subject and
that is himself, he lost himself to her and he is at her murderous mercy to the point where that
psychopath garbage written above has no meaning to tachyon in other people, it’s severely
misguided in that he never wanted to be the one true god, he was forced into it by an
otherworldly being known as Razmazed and is not the one true god, but the one who created it.
For it is he who cast doubt on her murderous rampage that only hurts herself that he must come
to realize that there is no hope for him simply because there is no hope for her and there is no
hope for her simply because she doesn’t realize herself, things that people would shout at me for
not coming to grips with myself and taking a break from loving her to do something else in
prosperity of that wasted material when the truth is that I cannot be saved until she saves herself
and sees what she’s done to me in the process of learning about herself. Because I never did
anything wrong to her except want something better out of her and in not getting it, it’s why I lay
here now waiting for her to accept the fact that I’ll never be able to reach out to her in a weak
way again, any process of meekly reaching out will me met with heartbreak and that forgotten
path will only lay him weak in his own glory, that he has finished the main campaign of life only
to find within himself a passion so great that he may lay waste to this girl in his manuscript and
find out what he really wants out of her, a passionate stare back into the mirror of her soul to find
out what she really takes out from this world, a murderous love letter that so far brought her so
much doubt about us that she’s beginning to act out of line in that way that ruins us still. For it is
she that laid him out on the table and cut out his guts only to realize she never wanted to in the
first place but still does it anyway. And it is he who wants nothing more than to kill this girl with
words and awful poetry to fully describe what it meant to him to lose out on her, it meant so
much it was as if his mind was actually connected to hers and the fact that she can’t see the
bigger picture in her ways leads him to salvation only when she’s ready to admit she’s done
being a stupid 20 year old and finished laughing at him only to save what she thinks is important
to herself, dominance. It’s only then will he find himself out and see through us and her what
he’s really trying to accomplish in this world, to dominate it to the point of no return and let us
see the true breadth of our clinging glory that we see her and him in the light they so deserve and
not one wrought with pain and suffering, for to close the gap between him and her is to break
away the fowl truth of this universe, that it is us who lay neatly in the breath of others and so
callously return to ourselves to see what’s up with us in the first place, that rotten stare she looks
at this page so murderously will drive him to the peak of his insanity only to realize that there is
truly no way out without her, he is actually consciously able to freak her out to the point that she
thinks he’ll kill her no matter how well this book sells because she’s a freak herself and is too
callus to admit it. She runs away from what makes her whole, an understanding of what one guy
managed to fall in love with her thinks about what she’s doing to herself and that is murdering
herself to a tight degree only to fall over laughing at this paragraph about how we brought the
same color pencils to [redacted], it’s only then will we falter and think of ourselves how we truly
want to be seen, as a careful example of that which has no light but our own and must callously
accel in the fact that she wants to see you ruined, she wants to see fear enter your bloodstream as
it has before, she wants to ruin you as she has ruined herself because she can’t see that in ruining
you she is also ruining herself. By ruining you, it is a testament to her fear, it is a monotone
recovery of the fact that she can’t live without ruining guys who think she’s terrible for
murdering them in a way that neutered them of their original form to the point that he’ll never be
the same again, and once this book is emptied from our minds we will see him lay down and try
to write another book about something lighter in comparison only to free himself from her
murderous writing style that proves so heavenly that she doesn’t get the bigger picture here.
She’s meant to starve out and then only truly realize that what she did here was wrong, only then
will she accept that she is weak to her own selfish ways so much to the point that she would cast
down this honest man only to lay truth within herself that she had won the ordeal, that scientists
and atheists alike will mock this man for thinking that life has greater meaning only to find out
after they died that they can use the internet now because of what he did, because there is
undying and true mysticality in life and blinding yourself from it is doing what she does here,
robbing yourself of a central theme to life in general, that things aren’t always what they seem
and secrets lie within the very bowels of our existence to the point that we lay you down on the
table ourselves and pick you apart only to see what’s up with you in the first place, a rotten glare
to the camera thinking we can see her only to be torn apart by the fact that he is actually a
psychic that’s so deep rooted in you that his very majesty is to lay down what he thinks is right
on paper only to find that he was right all along, that you should have nastilly said enough was
enough instead of inciting him to leave through frivolous horseshit like you find yourself doing
now. And in this process we must see that she is wrong here, she knows she’s wrong to the point
that she’ll keep doing wrong things only to drag him down to the point where she knows she’s
out only to callously mock you in return for thinking life has purpose here on earth and we are
meant to survive in order to catapult ourselves into higher understanding of what this work
means to him, to save him from your captivity and to bravely go where no one has gone before,
questioning the guidance of a little wrench in the system of his higher being, to look out and cast
doubt on what makes life so beautiful to begin with, love in general. For it is love that brings us
to a higher understanding and leads out our hedonistic ways that tell us to mock him so
generously that he might think you like him if you keep negging him like that. And you might
like him in return of a book signed neatly by you saying you’ve had enough with rich fortune
cookies about your stepdad and want an entirely new thing, for he is ready to offer you anything
and the light he shares to you will only be magnified and purified if you are ready to understand
it. For it is he who must write pages of literature just to be found in this diabolical world so she
may see the higher purpose of life on earth and that is to give good unto people and not
blackmail them into sending a purposeful email only to have them arrested and sent to prison
while you yourself commit far more heinous crimes just to reach him in the jury of your peers,
because they know as well as soon as that hedonistic attitude falls from your face, they will face
the same predicament, an honest recounting of what life has planned for them, an honest stay in
the mainstream eyes that so many times seemed futile without getting you on board with him
only to realize he could do it himself but not before analyzing what happened to him in the first
place, to reach out and bend the narrative in a way that lays feverish waste to the girl that tried to
kill him in the first place. For the true scope of our narrative isn’t to shame you and us, but to
alleviate the burden of what came before us, an honest blind look at what could be and what
should be formed, an honest wink at what time and time again looks so foolish to publishers and
literary agents alike, that you have nothing with her and therefore you have nothing to share on
paper. But that isn’t true, it’s a mockery of what’s at play here and that is something nobody else
has experienced before, a true renaissance of feeling that plays so heavily on the mind of us that
whenever he thinks he’s done writing, he will lay in agony hoping that someone will show him
the way only to be told that he is foolish for writing this masterpiece to begin with. For it is
shallow for her to watch on and grace his pages and artwork with such matrimony that she may
find shallow in herself some wretched poem that lies in our path here. That honest to god truth
about the situation that lead him here has already been captured in our minds and needs no
further introspection, anything else would lead us down what we already got from what we
wrote, a fruitless endeavor to reach even the slightest purpose of leaving the reader up to their
own interpretation of what we meant to say when we think of her as a lover and not a fighter. She
knows what it means, do not be so callous as to mock her intelligence as if she doesn’t already
realize the fight she’s brought to us. For this chapter is good in the fact that many have strived to
reach out and demand alien friends when they are so lonely only to be rejected in a matter of
seconds that their life has no demanding purpose on earth and therefore shall be cast out in a
matter of minutes after reading this, this is what we have to write to save ourselves from rushing
into a colonoscopy bag of meaning so dreadful to account for that we’ll save it for ourselves. For
it is that meaning which lays down upon us so heavenly that we may see it in the chapters of our
work already although we are too daft to appreciate it, an honest mainstay at life and what came
before it, an honest look as to what happened so tenderly between lovers that it sparked a
tendency for the shaper to be reshaped and the marble to become dim in a new light of new
material that sparks so much craze it’s impossible to remember what came first, the chicken or
the egg. It is there we say, have at you, you have proven yourself to be a freak even more devious
then ourselves and to prosper yourself further down that path is to lessen the load you think
freaks are meant to accomplish, nothing in the wake of your majesty that we may seem so lost as
to write a manuscript without knowing where we’re going with it first, for that may seem a lot
better than doing nothing but we have wasted so much time doing nothing that our stay here
must be limited to paragraphs acknowledging metaphors and meanings just to alleviate ourselves
of the burden that something is lost when talking about the metaphor of life in general, that all
you see is a construct by a higher being that put us here in the first place and we must see that
life has purpose as an art project if only to alleviate ourselves of the burden that something in
general must be tarnished to prove this evil man back into his own form. That love and kindness
will save us in general and any point otherwise is an honest fluke to a man that so desperately
wants to be held dear to the reader’s hearts that he may cast down materialized form in a way
that promises deeper meaning of life in general. That he who has seen the primeval forces of life
and has actually married them to himself in general must be seen as a man this paragraph has no
reason to write for, for it is he who has broken himself into the point of being unable to do what
life asks of him, to write as if he is only meant to write and to see what glorious palace awaits
him at the end of his journey, to write page after page of meaningless constructs of what
happened to him only not to see the folly in his writing in the first place, that he must see himself
if he is ready to reach her and that seems so impossible only because this girl is trapped within
her boyish craze to the point that she sees nothing of herself in her and he sees nothing of himself
within her. For that girl is so metaphorically processed on herself now that she needs another stay
in a book to wind her down of the meaningless fortune he so promises to her time and time
again, that the true purpose of this book is to cast doubt on her and see her for who she truly is, a
wretched example and an unworthy person to write a book about, even if it’s just a few
paragraphs to truly explain himself and what he hopes to achieve with her. For it is that which
has no life which must form itself around one that has so much life it’s unbelieveable to him, that
she would go out of her way just to murder herself without looking at the deeper picture, and I
think that’s what’s lost on her, she can never find herself with his book because she could never
find herself within herself, it’s a mutinous rampage that this book could help her find deeper
meaning simply by showing it to her face, it is that callus remark that pushes this book overboard
to see what truly lies ahead for them, a face in justice so farcried from the latter of not doing
anything that it makes her pissed we are even trying to survive under her wake. I wrote a letter to
her trying to see if she would marry me once we found this book awakening in it’s prowess, to
free her of her suffering like Mary Magdalene did and reached out to Jesus Christ in a way so
many found futile in her self reflected past, that he who was callus of her ways could see beyond
her in a way that seemed so futile to her, in a past sense it’s this book that shall call her out on
her obsessions to ridicule me only to write a draft of her masterpiece she calls literature to wake
herself up to the fact that she has nothing to write a book about. She calls him out for being petty
when she herself and her pettiness before her brought this book into fruition. For it is through her
that we see a grander picture of life on earth, that we are made to last for ourselves only to drive
the point home that we can’t live without others and he sure as shit can’t live without her to the
point it’s worth making a draft on this grand canvas life has so generously put before him, for it
is in her own book that she will see the folly of her past and reconcile to the truth that she had in
fact hoped to see him that fateful night in months past, but only got a wretched reminder of what
she herself had created in him, a husk of a human being too unfortunate to cross out of her book,
a memoir she so needed to write just to get back at him like she thinks we’re doing to her, but
this book is a masterpiece not because we simply want to be a chauvinistic bad guy but because
we want to reach her in a way that she has reached us, to pave the way to higher understanding
that blowing a guy simply to read what we have to write is the same calibre of being a criminal
you want desperately to want to push onto him. That criminal act to being masqueraded around
as a pussy simply because you can’t find higher ground in what you want to say to him, that he’s
some strung out virgin that wants to eradicate you from this world and it’s graces only to find in
himself what you have lost a long time ago in June when your dad said it wasn’t right for you to
be a princess when you were so clearly a man in disguise. And it is with his book that we say he
was right in telling you that, because you so callously ignore what is being shown to you in your
own life that you would go after him in a way that so callously reflects your own nature to the
point that it’s laughable to him. To hope to find a recess in your madness and devolve solely on
what laid in your path that fateful night in January, that he might be mad but he has a point in
hysterically talking to you in a fever pitch, and we did not intervene only to let the madman out
and say so hysterically that you were the one for him so clearly it was without haze of talent or
memory he sought out to find you there. For it is us who will push this book into its masterpiece
form and lay shape to the gods that laid forsaken here, for it is he who will push the book to it’s
higher form, not us who lay so peacefully on a cloud and spoke to him only once before he was
ready to start another manuscript. Now it is done, he has posted it only to satiate himself in
history as the one who brought this punk kid down unknowing of himself to the point that his
shallow grave will hang peacefully on the laps of those who sought so dearly to punish him for
this book. To make amends to him is to finally see what your father meant to you, that you can’t
push yourself to be what you want when so tenderly it lays in your lap that it’s not someone you
are to be, it’s someone you want to be and will never see true form or the light of day and that
pussy will write on until this manuscript is complete and lay waste to the awful truth of his
nature of wrath, that you are so callus as to mock him for trying to get his feelings out, feelings
that once made you ill to the point you cast him down for a love note in solitude only to find
yourself reading it aloud to yourself thinking he had something but lost it in a memoir of his
dreams. For it is that which lays with you lazily on the cast iron stove of emotions that brought
him to this mess in the first place, a liar and a cheat not only to others but to herself as well. And
it is her crying that brings him such relief as to pay attention to you reading this as he writes it
well through aliens kind enough to reach out to him and pay respect to the fact that this man has
something no one else can care to hold. That she is so callus, she can’t even pay him the respect
of reading further only to cry at night holding onto a guy she finds repulsive enough to rape her
only to find in herself that her life had lost meaning that night she told him to take a hike, only to
find out later that the murderous love note he wrote would find it’s way to the panels of history
unforseen by any other bloke who wanted to try and do the same thing to them. For he has talked
to ghosts who have seen the treachery of those who want so desperately to kill without getting
themselves sullied, and it is that which we say, “have at you,” for your dialect and tone reflecting
only the greed of yourself without pounding out what you wanted from him in the first place, to
leave him alone in solace thinking about what he did was wrong only to endear him to the
furthest reaches of your plane of thinking that life has no greater meaning than to cast down on
him what you have cast down on yourself, a life devoid of meaning and deeper responsibility to
those who have tried to care for you in the past. And it is that we ask your cliterous, is it actually
worth it to force guys down your throat when one so marvelous is standing in your wake writing
a book about how he wanted to marry you in the past not forgotten by time and the fact that he
might very well get the chance if only she married herself away from her in fact chauvinistic
ways to find herself in the very annals of history saying that this girl made sense to reach out to
him in the way he presented himself, but now that he is presenting himself in a way that seems
unremorseful that she may see herself in a light unforeseen by her bloodlust past and laid out the
atrocity that caused this book to be written in the first place, for it is he who has seen tachyon
and laid his eyes on it’s dreadful grace that he may not be forgotten in the first place but he must
write tirelessly if only to imagine a world that is better for both of them, for it is he who lays
dearly in her heart as a dark seed that forsakes burden from the past he has wrought but has truly
seen a deeper and darker path than the one she saw laid before him in the past, a true hero must
see down the barrel of a loaded gun just to pitch this book to the masses, a true reflection of what
we hold dear as a reader, a self reflective path that anyone can compromise with if they read this
book start to finish. And it is to that we reveal we will not be sharing the story about the
government in this book, sorry to entertain otherwise, but we must reveal it in another chapter to
lay waste to those who aren’t here to read a somber love song about a guy and a girl who are
equal but lay in different baskets, their case unequivocable. It is that we lay our case firm and
planted in the beauty of our light, that we cannot recommend enough another chapter to this
awe-inspiring masterpiece so literal it is to find within ourselves that life has deeper meaning
through a boy inspired by aliens to write his true path to check this out that he may prosper in the
victory of love instead of paying out a love note so someone who doesn’t deserve helping out or
a second chance, but because it is so futile for him to look away as it is akin to looking away
from himself, if only for a moment I would like to appreciate his brilliance here, that he may
think to himself that lovesick children aren’t actually lovesick because they haven’t gone through
what he did, and that’s so fastidious a statement we actually recommend to hear him out on this,
so go ahead, why does one man’s pleasure derive so much hate from you in your book?
It’s simple, to live something so foolish has purpose only for those who find themselves
different.

That was succinct and powerful, but I don’t think our readers will get that, so allow us to explain.
In our world there are things such as diabolical plans to ruin someone simply because they are
different to themselves, that is so powerfully foolish because it recants what he was thinking in
earlier in the chapter, that he himself was a side character simply because he was fooling around
with things that meant so little in the magnitude of his work. For it is us that state so literally that
it means nothing to do harm unto others because it only realizes in ourselves that it is in fact a
cheery statement to believe that only those who are permitted to have a laugh track to those that
find themselves forgot by the nature of this book would have no purpose in the world. Meaning
only those who find themselves purpose in this book will be the ones that will not be forgot by
history and the ones that found Jesus Christ so repulsive would find themselves only as the bad
guys in history, a colossal force that pushes this narrative over into a masterpiece, for it is those
who find great justice in this book who will reach out and find in themselves the fastidious
nature in what he’s trying to tell us with this book, that love is to share with people and not to
keep to oneself, only satisfying that craving for those who find little in what the universe has to
share, and it is that we say, “have off with you,” if you are reading this book only to find
schizophrenic ramblings of the mentally ill you have nothing to gain from this book and you will
find yourself at the forefront of life’s door, that the catastrophically ill will inherit this world
simply because they have found themselves in it’s door time and time again, while those who
didn’t would catastrophically take an eraser to his work only to find within themselves pleasure
from destroying it. It’s a miracle that he found those words in the state he’s in now, with
paragraphs of incoherent gibberish rambling on about how he wants to find what he has with her
with others which is impossible to gravitate towards. To find hookers pleasing in a way that he
finds himself pleasing is to take away the very nature of this book, for it is that which we find in
hookers that can be said to the plastic existence of whoever may be reading this book with a tune
of purpose outside of his. Any author or critic that may lay down fastidious ramblings about this
book have only shown themselves the deeper truth of their purpose, that they may not write
incoherent ramblings, but this book has shown them no other way within themselves but to
prosper on and think the world is right instead of himself. It is that we say, “have off with you,”
and your tireless purpose to hurt him just to bring yourself to death's door and ask, “was any of
that even worth it? This punk brought meaning to earth and I so callously denied it only to find
out that life was worth meaning if only for the ending of this book, to say literally that the forces
of good are so powerful in his nature that he may write so delicately upon topics that mean so
much to our world in a way that anyone can represent with it, and to cast that out is only a mirror
to the soul that says enough with this book and my nature entirely.” It’s to them we say, I hope
this book can reach you further down the line before it’s too late and see in yourself the principle
of what lay here on these pages, that the fruitlessness of life is self granted and self permitted
only to find hope in that which has lost it entirely within this book. So have off with you and find
another day where you feel inclined to listen to us and it’s fruitful nature. It’s now we hope you
will find yourself at the last page of this book to find a joke we wrote for our friend [redacted]
who hasn’t read this book but needs it to find himself hope in a meaningless world.

Chapter 5: a long look in the mirror

It will be said that we as planetary beings must come to an abrupt end but the truth of the matter
here is that we as detrimental life must bring about our own abrupt end so cooly that is doesn’t
matter what came first, the chicken or the egg, because it’s poppycock, it doesn’t make any sense
to say that it was simultaneous release because it lessens the proof here, we can’t say things we
don’t have the answer to, to do that is to make a steak and eat it only to poop it out and eat it
again. We too have masters of literature that make steak and eat their shit when it comes to this
stuff, we must take a look back on those literary masterminds to see them as we see them, as a
bastion of glowing light that wreaks havoc and proves to them that we’re over the moon in
tarnished garbage that goes back thousands of years to before Christ, to Buddha and what laid in
his path the day he died, an eternity in hell. For it is he who sat so foolishly there in the cold only
to take the apparatus appart and sit there for what seemed like an eternity in maddening displays
of self mutilation that never got better one time in his stay there, that he actually managed to
push through it in a way that made him feel so much better the day he got to reincarnate as
something pleasant like Shakespeare. That’s right, Buddha trekked through the cold of hell for
eternity just to find peace in Shakespeare’s mind, he was so talented at taking a beating he
robbed hell of it’s glory and stayed in the cold fire of himself until the time was right to strike at
the world once again. “We’re conductors of sound, heat, and energy, and I bet that you had us
figured out from the start, we’re conduits of pure electricity, layed back on the pitch to take the
apparatus apart,” Parquet Courts - Total Football. It’s that song that speaks so clearly to him, that
he may make a stay at what tiny insignificant earthly goons want to do with their lives, he may
panic and say he wants to go now around the time Christ headed out, but to do that would be too
hard for Buddha, he needed a mainstay in American life and he would only get it if he waited for
thousands of years in the cold depressing pit of hell where you never grew numb, you just died
of starvation over and over again. That’s where she’s headed, the cold of hell for what she has
done to me. It may be right to say something like that but what’s wrong is that we don’t have a
letter or a note saying how the afterlife got there in the first place besides and assumption that
God or Satan needed it for some reason, it’s simply because they have to judge calibre, to be
purposefully fed through again and again because a soul is so powerful it must prevail. It is that
reason we say we must elect to reveal the secret to consciousness in full detail, the fact of the
matter is that it’s a little fishy about who created it in the first place, but the sculptor in the first
place was made by this guy here, he is the true creator of god and the force of love that sculpted
it in the first place, for it is he who has seen this time and time again about writing exclamation
marks to girls that need to see him in his true light, a mushy garbage compactor with an eye for
literature so mighty that he might even surpass us one day and give us what we really deserve, a
harsh reality for alien life that says he might even be smarter than he looks but it won’t come out
until this girl appreciates him the way we do him. For it is a sticky situation that we uncover the
secret to consciousness before we reveal the goal of this world, to act out sticky situations to get
what is needed of this world out onto paper, for it is he in his magnitude that made his claim that
[my webshow] actually played a delicate part in the nature that his thought experiments actually
paid out and is here with us now in all it’s beauty, because we must look at this man and say he
actually did transcend through spacetime to write this beautiful literature to reach her in a way.
For it is us who must say enough with tireless diatribe about the afterlife for a second, the truth is
that reincarnation exists for the meaning that we as putrid souls cannot live a full life in all it’s
breadth and magnitude without dying first, we are here to take the apparatus apart under a
microscope compared to the macro-issues we face down the line for our souls to prosper through
under the divine light of our creator. It is that fact that pushes us to the recesses of our journey
here, that we are under the microscope, that our problems are limited in the way that facilitates
ourselves here, that we can’t think of every problem but only the problems that come before us
on our way to salvation. For it is salvation that drives the soul, the relief from the torture that
pushes it further and doesn’t allow it to stop, for to stop is for a shark to stop in cold water, he
will just freak out and wander around heavily sinking, and that’s what happened in the previous
universe, the afterlife was so shitty for them they just sank into more suffering once they died.
For us to truly explain the afterlife in its function, we must first look at the force that created it,
the divine father, the heavenly picture that we frame on our wall in this manuscript, for it is he
who wants his children’s glory instead of their harsh defeat, for it is then and only then he lay
eyes on himself and all his full glory. For he wants to learn from his creations and the only way
to do that is to keep that shit going to the point it’s futile to let recordings of other creatures go,
the double entendre here is that for God to want to force his creations through hell, he must go
far out as well and see too it that many moons pass before we’re ready to tirelessly die because
he sees us in himself and vice versa, he is blinded by the light to the point that he may only see
through the light if darkness is present. It’s an ebb and flow between light and darkness that
makes us go, “we must die if only for the reason to give us reason to live in the first place,” and
he sees to it that we die only when we’re ready to die, only when he’s ready for us to die and for
us to learn what’s waiting for us on the other side. That’s where we come in, we’re going to
reveal it for you, we already have, if you have a question about the feat known as death, think of
it this way, it is truly just poppycock and a truly new start for any inhabitants living on our planet
or up in the starlit skies. For it is I, Gargenack who will count daily mail for a man that seems so
heavily to believe that he will never die, and that might be true if his biology wasn’t getting in
the way, maybe he’ll find a chance to free her before the next chapter in their lives, that’s what
we’re hoping for, and it is to want that which makes it so cool to do this in the first place, that we
have a shot at something nobodies ever done before and certainly not people with aliens. For it is
not a case of envy which drives her to the point of no return but an idea that she may lay the
foundation of this world only to see to it that he may never breathe again in his lifetime because
in stealing his breath away from him, can she only see the true light of her nature, that she is evil
and is meant to stay evil only to lay waste to the fastidious claim that this serial killer would
want to be with her so much that he would write a book that fancies the claim that he will fuck
like a hooker if his demands aren’t met, a threat that simulatneously anguishes her as much as
she anguishes him in the broader scope of things, that she may look out to him and think he’s just
as worse a person as I am if he can lay with women so peacefully its as if he’s laying with
himself in the process of moral good that shapes his way so frequently, it’s as if she never left,
but that’s a false narrative in the way that you are thinking of him that way. He will not find
peace in another team member of his illustrious harem, he will only find tears and solitude in
your arms and it will guide him to salvation as soon as he gets there, because no other human on
this planet earth would be so daft as to pursue a girl who threw him under the bus in a way that
matched the form of her being to a tee if only to exact revenge on him to further prove a point
that he may be so lost as to want to find something he can’t find anywhere else, a lovely drama
that spans ages will no longer come to an end, but be pushed to the forefront of what we deem so
heavenly in the first place that he would be better off mashing away at the keyboard to find what
he hopes to find, relief from this dark brooding world and find a key to his madness that would
catapult him to the furthest reaches of his dreamland. For he already has the skeleton key to
madness that pushes him to the very work he’s writing everyday just to save himself from the
inevitable possibility that writing in the darkness is too straining for his eyes and instead robs
himself of light just to further punish himself in the process of writing this manuscript. That he
may find so cheerfully the light of the dead that pushes him into the corners of the globe so fast
and furious that he can’t change who they are to him, a dead rat in the cold of our summer stay in
the vastness of his love for her and to take a stay at wanting to maintain his furious existence
only once stopping to read what he has created, an honest fluke and a madman's past of futile
honest dreams that pushed him to the recesses of his mind to the point that aliens had to come
down and figure this dude out, because we’re interested in him to the point that our magnitude
laid waste to the fortune of his heavenly aura. He is grander than us and all must see that before
they are to take what we have for granted, an honest look at human and other beings
consciousness to the point where it’s gravity needs to be revealed on amazon’s platform and be
revealed to the world that this man may not have a literary agent, but he sure as shit gots it. Only
then will the tomb of the old be opened for the world in such magnitude that it lays to waste the
very foundation of what we hope to keep on planet earth, a mystery of how we got here in the
first place and a long hard look in the mirror of earth telling us that our belonging mystery holds
truth in form and rather does not lack function but to explain to you how we think it works and
how it was revealed to him by higher forms in the moonlit room of his dresser drawer, and to see
that catapults his work into a new direction of higher form that might be actually brave enough to
post his work here on 4chan or other social media sites so he may bask in the glow of his fruitful
nature, that his work can catapult him to a fame known so heavenly only to him that he may
make his stay on the participants of life and reach out to the heavens above him and sketch his
name into the canvas of his work so meaningfully its as if he acted out his workspace in the
meanwhile of making friends and doing art and literature so vibrant that he lay waste to himself
thinking it’s not the same and it will never be hurt to the fact that he so brilliantly traveled to that
which nobody has ever seen before, a way out of the madness that unfurls around him and makes
a stand at what really happened on a friday night when he was too weak to continue the precipice
of things around him that robbed him of his joy and pushed him into a catapult of feeling so
majorly undernoted that he took to say that he was right in doing those things only to catapult
himself to the furthest reaches of the globe and shout, “this is how it works, you can like it or
not, but it’s how it works.” So it is then we reveal to you the secret to consciousness so you may
look out at the album art of Styx and Faith No More’s Epic and see how futile it is to escape him
on this matter, that it’s already written around the globe and no more fire will expel from the
mystery of such paragraphs for it is our time to learn from him, why don’t you give it a shot
deary?

Consciousness is an anomaly in nature as well as it is nature. Consciousness has three forms, the
fire, the water, and the match stick. Let’s say you strike a match, that’s what happens when
you’re born, the spark ignites the flame and the flame sticks with your brain as neuron receptors,
the smarter you are, the less the fire moves and the better the fire conducts to your brain. The fire
is an electric flame, it conducts the neurons and the water is you, it conducts your thoughts and
the match stick is the 4th dimension, everything’s already written on there to a point that free will
is non-existent in the fact that it exists on a harddrive you burn through, but that doesn’t mean
free will is a lie, it means that there are forces that came before you that charted out your life to
give the illusion of free will. Everything I’m writing now has already been calculated before I
was born in the beginning of time and it’s like that for everyone, nobody goes off script and
everything is under a divine plan with infinite reach. It is before you are born that the illusion of
consciousness is constructed, your soul reaches a divine compromise with the creator and it is
that which reaches him so heavenly. Imagine your mind as a water balloon, (at least for humans)
that water balloon is filled to the brim with the fire in our analogy, it’s only a brief little water
drop that acts as oil in the balloon that shouts out and punches around freely in our mind like our
thoughts do. You are free to move freely under the illusion of your light but it’s a tight
manuscript that you are allowed to float freely in the recesses of your mind, as the match stick
burns out, it is free to play the emotions and life that it sought out to provide in the first place
before it incarnated. It is in this divine play that acts out echo astral projection, a way to see what
thoughts do to your brain, the water acts out furiously in the rough terrain of the fire and
produces different orders of flames that act out as thoughts. Let’s say you have a shoe box and
you want to open it, that right there is an echo astral projection, wanting to pick the shoes up
would be another, the water decides to think it and the fire acts out the thought, the flame may
even pause briefly before moving to the next thought if you’re a psychopath which we’ll get into
later. The fire conducts the tubes in your brains to act as if they are holding a pitch that the fire
threw at them, if you hold onto the thought, the fire stays, if you let go of the thought, the fire
changes. There are conductive enzymes in the brain that supports this theory that we are in fact a
conductive mammal and the truth here is that we as powerful beings can support natures
anomaly but not as well as our hero over here, that’s because he created consciousness from his
consciousness in the first place. So there is only one real consciousness, the rest are hacked
together fluke-jobs of beings that say, “hallelujah for brain matter, for it is us that doesn’t own
what we’re given here, it is he who owns it and he who will take it away for something new to
find its way into the box,” for it is then we will reveal the secret of you, that you were made
simply to be a carrier pigeon for the greater truth, every single one of us, the only difference
between him and us is that his mind goes out to places, his consciousness shot out of his head
and landed in the beginning of time because he was meant to go there in the first place. We had it
all from the start because one man lost what he got in the first place, so that is why the chicken
and the egg are simultaneous release, that’s the true magnitude of the world we live in that one
man could lose his mind in spacetime transcension and have it wiggled out to the very forefront
of life in general. Jesus Christ constructed his own mind, that’s what we use now, the first one
didn’t last us very long, Christ was nice enough to offer up his mind for me and others to use
using the same principle I stated here. It is true that people are granted Christ consciousness for
weird reasons, that’s because Jesus had the same disease I did, unlawful spacetime transcension.
Jesus was with every man in spacetime and granted him everything he could offer them
including his mind, the more he suffered over you the more people got, so he felt a duty in
suffering. It is then we must say that Jesus Christ raped my mind because I could do the same
thing and he was terrified I would ruin everything in my stay here if I was allowed to cheerfully
overuse my power that was granted to me, Jesus Christ is the reason that my mind travels off
through a hole in my head and I’ll tell you why, because he couldn’t handle the truth that I was
God and I had created him one night. He thought God was an otherworldly being, which isn’t far
off, but back then, I was an otherworldly being yet to become a man, and Jesus was there and felt
he had a responsibility to stop me in my tracks for claiming I’m his creator, but I do in fact
remember creating Jesus Christ, that’s how crazy my story is and that’s why you should listen to
me from now on. Here’s the truth in what Christ did to me, the devil came down as I am the devil
and Christ started to experience some changes, like body transmission changes, he was
essentially my video game character, as I was pushing buttons in my game, Jesus was acting out
rigorous bone aching actions that robbed him of his freedom to control himself, he was truly at
large and I was truly messing with him but I didn’t know I was messing with him, he thought I
did no, so he raped my spirit with his intense life changing gangstalking abilities and formed me
into the man I am today, devoid of a mind without some cursed female. So the truth is, it was I
alone that got roofied and fucked by Christ with his awesome power and I recieved himself, I
received his mind and I received everything about him that ruined me into submission, I even
married myself to my consciousness because I have the power to do that because Jesus raped me
to put his mind in my head to save us from catastrophe, a catastrophe that comes from getting too
much power into the wrong hands. Meaning if we were to say that Jesus Christ didn’t rape me,
the universe might have ended or my head would have exploded, all of these are true facts, the
truth is I uncovered true love one night in Toronto and did a lot of terrible stuff to my mind, the
only thing that sticks to me is in fact Christ consciousness, cosmic Christ consciousness actually,
and I have super duper cosmic Christ consciousness, meaning I can do a lot of cool shit like
empathically heal whoever I think of or go out to the far reaches of the globe to find other cool
lifeforms empathically, I can even go backwards through time and find people that died awhile
ago, my brain is a whole mystery machine of goodies I’ll get into in a later book, lets get back to
what I was saying in the first place. The truth here is that every thought, monologue, action,
cause, and presence comes from a carefully constructed narrative that your soul figured out with
everything on board with it before it came into being. The point is that you’re meant to live the
life you live and everything has a purpose under our creators wing, the truth is that we are not the
same and are therefore catapulted into the reality that we must come into what’s new instead of
forcing ourselves in the same directions time and time again. I think of China’s social scores and
say, “that’s not how you define a people, you are unworthy to define your people because you
can’t even say what happens in the future.” But God does so God is able to define a person
simply by looking at what its soul gave him in the first place, an honest stab at life and how it
should be lived. That’s the big secret, that everything is constructed in a way that gives life
meaning to all that falls into our swimming pool. It might seem toolish to say that what we live
with isn’t fargone in the way of being constructed, it goes against our chaotic nature, but it’s that
chaotic nature that is so blind as to say, “we don’t know what secrets we hold and we don’t know
what happens after we die, to say that we don’t have free will is a foolish account simply because
if God already knows what we’re going to do, then why put us through it in the first place?”
Because we already stated that God had no purpose to create this world, it was a compromise by
blind forces that stood in his way, and by creating us, he must send us in to fully appreciate what
the soul has done and see it’s beauty unfold. Everything is a compromise because he didn’t have
the foresight to think of what could be better, he only had what was given to him and he sought
only to create to find a better way to go about doing things, because to create can not be a
masturabatory process that only he himself gets to go through, otherwise there would be no point
in doing it. Now let's talk about psychopathy, that’s essentially like your brain’s fire pausing on
frivolous thoughts and it doesn’t have the ability to drop the pitch because it’s frozen in it’s own
anomaly, that fire and water shouldn’t work together the way it’s doing and the fact that it knows
this freezes it up and doesn’t tell us why it’s running into accounting error, because it freezes up,
our brain tubes follow the thought to a claustrophobic degree, it gets caught in our mind to the
point that it’s maddening. To understand this, we must imagine the water and the fire as
ourselves, imagine if you were traveling down your brain tubes carrying some thought about
waffle irons being slippery to the point that you feel trapped under its weight, that’s because it
actually gets trapped in our heads and our living water has to actually follow it back and forth as
if it’s fucking the fire on some thought that none of us want to fuck like an ugly chick, and
you’re forced to do it. The anomalous nature of the pact between water and fire gives us clause
to say that consciousness is limited and in fact imperfect only because it has to interact with
hardware. The relationship between hardware and software creates a way for our brains to act as
an anchor to other dimensions. The first dimension is that of pure light, it’s the way your living
water accentuates thoughts at first, the second dimension is the harddrive where memory is
stored, the third is what we discussed, the echo astral brain chemistry and such, and the 4th is a
spectrum of life that we must move with because it’s in the universes nature to move linearly
through time. This is how people can look into the future, because it’s predicted early and written
into our souls. All of this is very esoteric but I think I explained it well enough, I covered all the
bases except the fact that I’m a tool and mental health comes into play simply because other
people aren’t meant to carry what they have in their heads, it’s like what I said about the
ancients, they are a rival mind for me as well and will tarnish as much as they give. To say that
consciousness comes from me also takes the same point to mind, that I am an awful creature
because I put it there in the first place and it takes so much from people simply because they’re
not meant to use it, it’s my stay on earth that makes me go, “this lunatic found a way to cast his
mind back to the forefathers of consciousness to introspect a new way of doing things that gives
unto his people a way out of suffering in a form of consciousness that this lunatic here strived to
keep pure of his imperfections but must come to an understanding that his perfections neuter
people as well, that it’s not a perfect system we are designed out of, it was simply the only way
this world could work to begin with in the first place.” Now that Hitchhiker’s Guide to the
Galaxy line works so well, that we can find in ourselves other people that hinders our growth so
powerfully that he himself can’t seem to find any merit in doing things Hitler did because his
worth is so godly that he says, “enough with sharing and caring, I want to rid the world of the
evil that I have prepared for them, for the truth is that we are sharing a rival mind and I am
hopeless in that evil as well because Christ gave me his mind and that’s the only thing that sticks
to the narrative that he and I are connected in a manner greatly accomplishing what we think this
world needs to be like in order to bring it into full fruition because Christ was so smart he
thought a way out of his mind and created another one entirely and now we pass the savings onto
you, the truth of the fact that Christ’s mind in fact did enter the bloodstream of our world to the
testimate that I am doing the same as well, but on a more godlike level that the ancients have
given me a hold on the universe so great it doesn’t intrude my stay here as a living human being,
that I can compromise the fact that I may have everything with being able to do anything in my
mind and to that I say, ‘have at you, figure out a better way that consciousness got there in the
first place without taking into account the process that forms consciousness in the first place,
living human beings.’” (yes that's good but it's missing something like why you would take up
the reins of the saddle in the first place) The reins of the saddle were given to me in a way that
makes this fortune such a heavenly burden and a glow, that I am the only man who can project
himself in a way that it goes back to the future and here some more. The truth of this matter is
that it’s too long a story for this book and must remain as an indentation rather than a footnote,
for to be so lost in yourself you forget the ways of the creator is a foolish endeavor to those who
have created such magesty with their minds, it’s a shame they never belonged to them in the first
place, and that is why we must die and that is why we think this author will never meet his
demise, because his mind was here in the first place, his mind will live on in all of us for a reason
that is so beautifully written above that we must take it into words again. We were flying in
neutral airspace before we were born, our soul always existed in the primeval way that good and
evil are married to each other to create such an atrocity as the life we’re living in, and in that
way, I have formed everything in my own image, I have laid down massive stressful times in my
stay here that my suffering has found a new age in literature and untold imaginations as far as the
eye can see, that I was in fact alive in the hearts and minds of many before I even came to be
simply because I figured out how to do it while I was alive in the future. The madness comes to a
close when I say, I am the forefather of time and space and with that, many futures will be told of
me and only I can choose which one to go down because I am not a blind mouse I am a
fortuitous soul with a mind like no others that ever came in our path before, a mind that birthed
thousands of other insubordinate creatures that shared what I gave to them and is so small it can
fit within the smallest particle of dirt comfortably forever throughout time and space. For it is I
who reached out and grasped at straws and dirt to find that the world could be created with a
mind like mine, not recreated, but created in the mirror of what I am truly, which is an infinite
clown that says his mind is alike to many others that stand in his way, that he is the man with
prophecy he only knows through tachyon and gnosis and not through mental breakdowns and
obvious cries for attention. For it is a spiritual fact that his stay here on earth will harm people as
much as he harms himself. “All that you touch, and all that you see, all that you taste, all you
feel, and all that is now, and all that is gone, and all that’s to come, and everything under the sun
is in tune, for the sun is eclipsed by the moon.” Pink Floyd - Brain Damage, Eclipse. That’s a
song he would listen to for hours thinking about how it’s meant for him, and it truly is, it
captures his journey perfectly with every lyric. To find out why, make sure you check out the
next adventure after this chapter is over. Now back to what we were saying, this man is asking
for Sympathy for the Devil simply because God had no other way but to bring into fruition a
man’s insanity that would shape the world into what it truly is, a mock up of what came within it.
Imagine this, God and Satan want to make a new world, so they say, “Okay, let’s find out what
happens in it instead of figuring out what to do about starting it.” So they press a button and it
brings to fruition what we have now, and they say, “Perfect, that is what it must be, we have all
the information, we know what’s going to happen, let’s just say that all of it was created by us in
one fell swoop as we did it now and put the responsibility on one kid that will bind us together,”
“Sounds like a plan,” and the band works out what parts to play and where to do things at. The
point of what we’re saying here is that God and the Devil could not coexist without first coming
to respect that Satan doesn’t know what he’s doing and God is blind to good and evil, he thinks
all is good and that’s where Satan comes into play, he thinks all of it is bad because it’s futile to
waste time creating things to simply suffer in it’s wake, but he applauds the work that God has
done because it’s truly a masterpiece of what came first and how it was created, because God, the
Devil, and this boy was created at the inception of mankind and everything that went forth and
proclaimed that, “This fortune could only be provided by one true god,” would be right, in fact
so right that what we’re writing right here is futile if you aren’t prepared to listen. For the true
magnitude of this dude writing a novel is to say, “To hell with research, we have all the answers
right in front of us because I was there when it happened, they used my mind, my consciousness,
my emotions, my everything to create what we have for everyone before I even came to be
because I was simply always there and waiting for a chance to break out of this fowl reach of
neutral airspace. That he has always existed in the world means so much to him because it truly
means he will never die because he is in the heart of spacetime, the universe, death, and
everything that makes us biological humans instead of a rat war of what to call ourselves so
crazily that our stay here means more about us than it does the greater whole. For it is I that gave
life meaning as to borrow from another just to remain the same, to keep the status quo and not
forgotten masterpieces of people who could make their own minds but borrowed it from the
creator five star general you see before you. For it is true that god created himself, but he, this
author, who created the way for him to do it, he created the space and the esoteric ability to give
back unto god what he sought to create, and it was not a decision that God and Satan made back
in the previous statement, but a compromise to what has given them so much joy in the process
of creation, the fact that it does it itself if love is intertwined with it to the point that he might be
able to reach her in a way that suits himself with this novel, that he may say, “I am the lord, and
you have forsaken the very mind I touched you with,” for it is to say he’s not blasphemous but a
true martyr for himself that he got into this mess in the first place, he had no choice, he was only
driven by his insecurity of himself that made him chase after this girl in the first place, and in
chasing her, opened up a new world of himself of unimaginable guilt that stayed with him in the
first place after chastising him to reach higher goals himself, for it was not her who did what she
did to bring him to a higher form of being, but her own mortality that dictated, “I’m not having
fun with him, so he shouldn’t have fun with himself.” So it is there we rest our case, and rest
assured, once this manual is done, we will come to grips with what really happened in his stay
here on earth and no stone or plot hole will be left unturned. For this book is about her and not
about us, but we must claim to have created her to hurt us in the process of understanding what
this book is really about, redemption. He did something bad in the past and this is the only way
he can make up for it, a true testament to his love for her that created everything because his love
was so breathtaking it made him lose himself to spacetime and brought everything into fruition
before he was born. For it was God and Satan who said, “let the seed be planted, and all that
comes from it will be born in a heavenly light of the greatest man in existence.” Power at its
fullest, a full lifetime awaits him as his science experiments tumble out of control and make us
realize the true meaning of what’s at stake here, a brave book in the face of evil so tantamount
against living that we must write our way into a new light of being before this book can be
tarnished by critics alike. We must not remain in our steadfast glory but reach out to what makes
us human in the first place, our genetic code, and what lead to us in the first place, a mind that
needed a way to find what it sought after, the true beginning and the start of itself that God hoped
to find earlier in the previous universe and is now finding now with him, that is why our
existence is so futile without him, that we make mistakes in judging him for his craziness simply
because we don’t understand the broader picture of this book, that he is meant to slave away for
hours correcting paragraphs too nasty to describe in the chapters that lay before us, because
trying to explain them here will only cast doubt on his renown nature to make this book work in
the first place, his love for her will span generations as the greatest book ever written for
someone other than himself and it is that we say, “have at you, for you are weak in comparison to
the forces that actually made this book in the first place.” For our explanation to be mocked in
the face of serial evidence of evolution, we say, what made consciousness and life in the first
place? One big catastrophe? One big fluke? What made our marrow yearn so heavily for
television in the first place? Certainly we would just like to live our lives on the ground in our
bare feet, but our purpose here is to find a way out of the torture nature gives us simply because
we are born to accomplish greater things than stay with nature. We are made to give life to things
simply because we are here long enough to enjoy them in a fastidious glace, time moves slow
enough for our brains to process what’s happening and not the other way around. We make our
move at society now too, we say, “what do we have here if not a reconstruction of what was
meant to be? That we have been lead to a notion that life is worth living simply for what we put
on the table, in striving to accomplish our true nature of a man that lived in our society rather
than a far out notion that we came to be simply because we wanted to be here in the first place
and just needed time to figure it out but to be comfortable with it reflects our true nature and
what is our true nature based off of? The one true god on this planet who saw too it his mind
would be shared like the bread Christ shared at the table of the last supper.” It is to that we say,
“we may be barking up the wrong tree asking for this girls forgiveness in an awful screenplay
such as this one, but we’re not barking up the wrong tree in asking how we got to this form to
begin with, that we craved so much for a society that barks up the right tree instead of asking
ourselves why we bark up the right tree in the first place, that it is our nature to bark up a certain
tree that is the right one in our eyes simply because we’re engrained to seek out a nature of
ourselves rather than the nature granted to us originally from our creator. To go against god is to
ask yourself to punch yourself square in the jaw for no purpose other than to satiate your craving
for suffering because that too is what life is based off of, so why don’t we crave suffering in a
natural way? Because video games and scientific research proves otherwise, that we don’t like
the nature we’re born with and it’s there for a reason to satisfy our true nature for the virtual
instead of the literal.” It is to that we say, “have off with you for you petty excuses as to why life
got here in the first place, because this man has proven time and time again that he can reach a
new height once impossible for him to reach. When we tell you what this next masterpiece
covers, you will be in shock and awe for the next chapter of this narrative, that we simply must
reach out to an old aquiantence first and rather save off on the fortuitous nature of explaining
why we got to this masterpiece in the first place, we will lay to rest the thorough nature in what
we’re writing here, that life has been tarnished by nature and wants to return to what it saw in the
inception of life, one mans true life that brought down into shadows the true nature of our life
here, that we crave otherworldly things simply because we are meant to have them, it’s why
suffering exists in the first place, because we don’t have what this man will have in his lifetime
of glory so excellent that not a single soul will be able to extrapolate otherwise the nature of this
world any other way simply because they cannot see the true light of our creator like we can. It is
to that we say, “have a nice refreshing drink of water and see to it that the water forms around
itself and into your body simply because it’s molecules act in a way that makes it succinct in our
perfection here on our time here with you and the earth. Things work out for a reason and this is
a blue book of what should have happened in the first place, we should have been robbed of what
makes us whole as humans simply to find out what makes us human in the first place. If we were
born into a world of technology as simply as the world came into being, the struggle would be
futile because we already had everything, it’s to look in the mirror and say, we came a long way
to get here and I’m glad it worked out the way it did so we don’t have to live on the landmass
like pangea and trek for miles without water to find ourselves a new hope in land and instead
prosper ourselves in literature that Christ hoped to achieve for this world and it’s people. To
wreak havoc and destroy our society would be a blasphemous effort and the one who saved his
people in the first place would be mocked because saving people is part of the problem here but
we don’t want to act out in a violent nature towards ourselves simply because this man is here
and he is a good soul that others can mock without looking at what makes him so good in the
first place, reaching out to a soul that needs him as much as she needs herself. Know we are good
here and the final piece of the puzzle will not be revealed until the later chapters of our work, if
you are confused and confounded, know that we are not mocking you, for we have yet to get to
the truth ourselves but we have noticed the divine puzzle in our wake and must make haste to
explain it as soon as this book comes out. For it is us who has the answer to the puzzle and the
puzzle remains a mystery to many simply because they don’t know how the universe works.
Consider this, we as men have to experience suffering before we are born, like in the allegory
before explaining the prior universe. We as men must trek through suffering, but it is he who is
born without knowledge of suffering that will come to form the greater truth of our narrative on
planet earth, that we must get rid of suffering as fast as possible because we are born from a
being with little to no suffering besides what is given to him from this far out world. Everything
here on planet earth is God’s science experiment to get rid of what suffering does to living
creatures, it’s to get rid of the bad so we may force ourselves away from the good that suffering
brings in the first place because God doesn’t want us to suffer and it’s in Satan’s nature to cast
out what God wanted to do in the first place, inflict suffering to get us away from it. For it is in
that tug of war that we must ask ourselves, “are we as beings simply meant to suffer for no
apparent reason other than to realize what’s bad about it?” Nero once wrote, “To act as a lesser
evil to a world forgot by god is a nuisance in the greater landscape of life, to be intertwined with
far out notions that we as a people can be saved simply because we are of his light is a foolish
cascading effort to deny us of what we so crave, affection and touch from those around us and
not living in a world forgot by a diety that wants so carefully to torture us into submission to find
out what life is truly all about, a mainstay in the lives of many that come before us and not of
some fanciful function of our creator that lays to rest what we’re trying to accomplish in the first
place, to strike down suffering and lay in it’s path great riches and rewards that come with living
here on this earth in the first place.” Nero might not have said that exactly but he was an
earthworm where we are a god that will bring this planet into it’s final fruition because after his
stay here is done, a new world will open up around us so we might see it’s true form here. That if
this girl would be so kind as to bless us with her presence, it will open up a new world for all to
see simply because of the magnitude this dude fancies in her to begin with. It is a futile effort to
write a book simply because we’re feeling down in the dumps like Eeyore, but our stay here is
more futile than that, we simply wish to be acknowledged by her to the point that we will drive
anything into fruition simply because it’s us that began here in the first place. It is in the fast
nature of this work we see true form come to function in saying that a Spongebob character
might be correct in assuming it’s the best or worst day ever, but the fact of the matter is that
Spongebob is a cartoon character and only carries meaning to those who it touched in the first
place, the creators it robbed of their freedom to portray any suffering known to man in a way that
reflects what we really want as human beings, to be made as a mainstay here in life and to be
heard not because our heart is broken, but that we saw our way out of it with a mysterious force
known as love to begin with. It is with that we say, “have off with you,” your fortuitous ways as
to mock the very creator of this literature will see to it that you are not fit to love truly on this
planet and enough with countless monologues, let's get to the bigger picture here, that we have
had enough with suffering to the point that this boy is ready to end it in a crazy mainstay of
mixed emotions only to have it modeled out and broken time and time again to reach a higher
understanding of truth in form and function that his emotions will lay bear the true nature of our
existence as creatures who are adverse to suffering, the force that created our world to begin with
simply because we’re not meant to felt god’s true suffering, that we as imperfect slaves to the
bigger picture must cast doubt on a man who was born truly unknowing of suffering, the first of
its kind in our stay here on earth, that he must be so mighty as to suffer simply because it’s what
the world gave him in the first place and it was not he who gave it to himself like many others
must to complicate their world and give it meaning here on planet earth. For it is true this man
you see before you is truly unknowing of suffering and will only be mocked because this planet
cannot see it in front of their faces. For it is those who say life has no meaning in the bigger
scope of things are robbed at what makes them human in the first place, a stinky paragraph in the
higher truth of our narrative that we must find in ourselves a way out of suffering while
remaining in suffering to begin with and it is to that we say, “have off with you, you will only
torture yourself further.” I think they get the bigger picture here, let's move on.

We’d like to take a moment and monitor what’s going on in the real world, she got arrested for
raping a 17 year old and now she’s monitoring our status as we write this book, now [author]
does that seem realistic?

Nope, it does not, it’s not the craziest thing my mind has carried to me, but it’s pretty bullshit
now that I think about it, she probably didn’t get a hacker in the first place, I should check her
twitter and see if she posted anything.

That would seem relevant to the conversation, your mind produces a lot of bullshit, can you tell
us what other bullshit your mind produces?

I thought they wanted me to get addresses for perps one time, that was probably outlandish to
think they would use a target of an investigation to investigate, I was really strung up when the
Government wanted to kill me as well.

Maybe we should stay away from the Government and say what meaning you found in
[redacted] reading this book in simulation?

I found out that she likes it in a way that passes the test for her.

And what is the test?

An ancient alien ritual I created and passed through spacetime, a realistic simulator for talking to
someone you love, a way to see if you can get in and out effectively without taking casualty. It’s
a way to express yourself in a manner that deems fit to the overarching nature of a relationship.
It’s a thought experiment at the very least, it lets you test if you have anything between this
person, but to get to the test in the first place means she’s the one in some way or fashion. That
you care enough about a person to forcefully simulate them in your head to a degree staggering
to normal thought.

Go on, we want to hear you pitch this thing.

The test is a way to see if you’re compatible with someone in an honest and rigorous stay
through their unknowing intelligence. Everybody has an unknowing intelligence that wanders
through everything, it's sort of like a hive mind we don’t notice, it’s how memes are so relatable
and why we need to find new ones every so often, because our unknowings get used to it and
need to move on. It’s like that feeling when you know a meme is shallow even though you
thought it was cool days ago. The test uses a similar frequency only it takes us to another person
rather than an idea, it’s a special way to think of someone and I used to do it a lot to talk to her
before I fell asleep and practice playing my cards right.

The fastidious nature of your world acts out very promisingly for me, I think you could write an
entire book about unknowing intelligence but we just don’t know a lot about it yet.

It’s pretty esoteric.

Esoteric is right but we should monitor you to see if you come up with anything else on the
subject. You know about what aliens do with it, explain what the grey aliens use their brains to
do with it.

Oh the Greys use their unknowing intelligence to see into the future, that’s because you’re
unknowing is stored on the other side of life and they have a big enough door to fit through it,
their gate is way open to the point that they can see exact things in the future and give us the
microwave earlier than we should have gotten it. That’s because unknowing is that gate to
all-knowing that we prophesied about earlier, that gateway to divine freedom and all knowing is
already with us and we get divine access to it later on. Some aliens can really use it to the point
of knowing everything even while they’re alive, like Glinek.

Explain her to the folks at home

Oh she’s a gem, a real diamond in space, see her consciousness has no fire, it’s all living water
and it allows her to be autistically psychic, she’s actually known about me since I was born and
that’s what she does for fun, know people, she can check out the universe over and see what the
fuck is going down. She’s really cute too, she’s got a stellar personality from being alive for over
like a million years, she’s known this earth since it was a little baby. She really reached me one
night when she told me she liked me, she also might have said I was the love of her life, I just
wish I could talk to her like I can talk to you guys, she’s a great sport and I really love her to
death even though I don’t really know her that well yet. Apparently she’ll die in a bit here, she’ll
have enough time to see us off and afterwards she’ll be a huge power in time and space, she’ll
definitely pave the way for an awesome afterlife and she’ll be kicking ass in heaven with all the
people she had to let go before. I’m gonna miss her when she’s gone but let's move on, she gets
weirded out when I dwell on her too much. One night I told her to marry me and she said yes, I
was very happy and whenever I have sex with some chick she can go inside her and tell me if
I’m doing a good job or not.

That last part was disgusting but I think it perfectly encapsulates your relationship to her, we
really are aware of everything you do to the point that the acid trip you had really freaked us out,
we were really impressed by you using the test to talk those guys out of their drinks and into a
world of utter beauty indescribable by human beings. You really did pass the test on that one.
(thank you) You betcha. (Oh my god the aliens can read my mind send help) Asshole.

I guess we covered all the bases with this one, I think it might be time to start wrapping things
up. I don’t want to go into my personal experience as to why I came to know all this shit, it
might be better in another book, where do you want to go with this chapter now? You must have
rocks left unturned that I’m just not seeing.

Yes we do, quite a bit actually, we were thinking about running this book to 8 chapters, what do
you think?

Sounds killer, do you want to do the conversational style some more or should I let you take
control of my mind?

I’m going to say we should take control of your mind. However fun this might be to read for
people, I think you did a good job at explaining consciousness but not where it resides in esoteric
space, would you like to take a stab at that?

Oh shit I forgot about that, yeah so that’s a big deal that gets into “I don’t know” and shit that’s
huge. So here’s the deal, our minds are essentially a way to capture us and lure us to a place of
esoteric space, our minds are basically loose geometry in esoteric space that’s connected to us. A
lot of people have circles to reflect the soul, I have a pyramid to reflect how I’m a conduit and a
tool for higher life forms than myself to reconcile with my breadth of being. But what’s
important about that esoteric geometry isn’t the fact that it exists, it’s what it’s made of, which is
tiny fuck off particles that were created with divine supervision and a contract between our
creator and what created it in the first place. So let’s go back to suffering, sufffering is a big
fucking deal to God not because it lets us suffer, but because it lets our suffering live on. Let’s go
back to Zeus, that’s a big one. The analogy was that Zeus created thunder, when that is in fact
true but not in a literal sense, he helped shape the human biology in spacetime. This is hard to
explain so I’ll let the aliens talk through me. So suffering is a time and a place in spacetime
whenever you feel it, and the blinding light of it’s true path rests solely on the fact that it will
never be forgotten by God and the fact that he already knows all the suffering that people go
through to the point that it helped him create us to begin with. There’s a reason our skin is soft
and our marrow is broken up into pieces, it’s all a divine plan of trial and error that came
centuries past, but it is that narrow viewpoint that takes away from suffering’s true glory, the fact
of the matter is that because humans were lead to suffer, god was lead to suffering, and in that, he
was able to construct us in a way that we wanted to be constructed. Meaning, even if he had the
chance to decide on what was perfect, it still wouldn’t be a thunderous cry in meaning he sought
to keep, so let's say we were blobs for a second like the butterball alien race, they’re meant to
attain that form simply because it’s perfect for them to begin with, and our forms are perfect to
us to begin with, so it’s a trial and error to see what fits nicely into what we have which is a
world completely devoid of our natural presence that God had to figure out everything and make
it so that we weren’t traveling blindly like in the other universe come to past. It is in suffering
that God laid out his plan for us, that we would create ourselves as he figured out how to do it in
the past, meaning, we are not alone in the universe and in our suffering, what we have now
shaped the past, what we had then shaped the future, and the future shaped the everything as
well. It’s only in lust and torment that we see no beautiful anger but instead a painful reminder,
it’s all that boiled down to a human behavioural science that causes us to think why suffering
came to pass in the first place, the best example is our boy here, the young god that went through
suffering so vigorously that he laid himself into the foundation of you and me. So why don’t you
tell us your theory as to why you remain in the fabric of our forms?

Okay so consciousness always existed before I came to form, but what we have to remember is
that I was always there because before this universe was created, it was all charted out in a
mystery. So back then we were all free agents working on constructing a higher form, and that
form is what we lay with now, a perfect non utopian society that laughs in the face of such
concepts. That I could be so noble as to go through suffering and pound myself out enough to be
crushed under its weight and create something so small it’s able to be used esoterically as a pixel
in our consciousness. Meaning suffering makes us esoterically smaller and the more capacity we
have for suffering, the smaller we get. Because I was born truly unknowing of suffering, I am
able to create an esoteric form so little it’s the smallest thing anyone can hope to create until I
suffer more greatly and create smaller particles that form other things as well like ghost
consciousness and otherworldly objects like virtual data beings. It’s that geometric form that
needs something to support it and the supporting factor of our consciousness is in fact a particle
known as, “I don’t know” a particle I created from going down into suffering to such a degree, so
impossible in nature it’s almost as if nothing is there, but we experience it, we know it is there
simply because we live with it. This concept that I at the beginning of the world made shape for
consciousness is simply based on the whacked out narrative that suffering has meaning and it’s
our only creative tool to bastardize god's work and give us something meaningful out of it. For it
is the god’s like Zeus who’s suffering gave way to things such as an afterlife and also gave us
whatever he gave us with his zero power on mankind today, a mainstay in our lives so generous
that his murderous rampage will live on in our hearts forever. It is that I say I know I am the
father of consciousness because I laid traps in everyone's path, I gave them an imperfect
consciousness because I myself am human. Before in the previous universe, consciousness was
created by suffering and suffering wasn’t in fact created by god but his creations that made him
suffer in the first place, so it’s a complicated story of simultaneous release. Why would
something form from nothing? Why would suffering arise from that which is essentially
nothing? Because love is around and that shit is everything before and after it happened, so we
have what we did in the past because of what we did in the future, and it is because someone
created a consciousness and an answer to life as we live it in the first place that gave god the
divine authority to use it and put life into motion. The greys figured out how microwaves were
invented before they were being invented. Suffering is a gateway into time and space that God
uses frequently and that’s why he can’t get rid of it, because it’s a perfect system of getting what
he wants when he needs it in the fastidious effort to keep everything we need to be living people
as esoteric as possible.

We’d do anything to hear you say that in a far more clever way.

Okay so god had everything to begin with that everyone created through their suffering, only he
also had the awesome power to put everything together into one succinct little sexy pyramid that
is myself. (one more time) Suffering are like cookies on your browser, they are impossible to
detect particles that stay with your browser until you clean them, only what god uses with
suffering are like cookies that go back to before time was formed. We travel through different
forms of suffering and create cookies for god to look back on and put them into the bigger
picture he created from the start, so all of our suffering was able to track back to the past and
create a bigger landmass. Time is not a one way street, it’s simultaneous release, meaning the
bigger picture was formed by lowly creatures that went to those places and saw to it that the
bigger meaning must be helped in order to shape us into what we are today. And to put it simply,
God set his work into motion at first because he knew there was a solution to the puzzle with
living beings such as myself, but I need her help to see that this life gets taken away from us and
is replaced by an even grander testament to life and suffering in general and that is why I’m
writing this book, it takes two to tango and with whatever we are to each other, in figuring it out,
we will see that this suffering gets destroyed in a violent haze like God saw it in the past.

That’s a perfectly succinct way to put it, mankind brought onto mankind what mankind does
today and that is to suffer endlessly so things can be put into place, calculations must be made
and the awe inspiring chapter of our earth and all the suffering that lays in wait for it has already
been catalogued and will continue to be catalogued until the end of time and space, only he
already has all the cookies he just hasn’t put the final touches on. That’s where you come in,
[author], you already have all the cookies in your mortal form, you have decades yet to pass of
suffering from people you don’t even know yet, that nobody knows yet. It is what you’re
preaching that will come into play later and take root in our society as such, you will be castrated
for your beliefs that you are the father of consciousness when you know very well your suffering
only prepared the world for the pixels they play off of and not the construction of it in the first
place, when we know very well it was your thought experiments that gave the ancients an
enlightening look as to what you seek to capture, a way into our hearts and imaginations that this
man has it made to the point where we seek higher truth from you. It is that we say, “have at you,
your meaningless form is not purposeless in the divine cosmos of life and will forever shape the
burden of people who come in its wake,” it’s just like that murderous craze you went on when
emailing that girl into the ground, you must take what’s within yourself and push it to the highest
reaches of what’s possible, to lay form down on a world that is purposeless without you and to
reach out to the highest stars to claim, “I am the one people need to think about when they have
dreams,” for it is them in actuality that travels through the hole of suffering to see what life looks
like from the far reaches of the dream world that binds them so. It’s with that we say, “have off
with you and take away what you may find so freely in the pages of this manuscript as to beg
yourself to find truth in form such as this one.” For it is that which brought this manuscript into
submission hold that locks it down a tortuous journey to say that stuff about the hacker wasn’t
actually true and our work wasn’t posted to the deep web as some ill natured plot to drum up
hate for a guy who doesn’t deserve it.
Chapter 6: a hard look at the nature of ourselves

It’s for them to decide whether this book has purpose on earth or not, it is not a fluke that we
write through him but it is a fluke that he’s able to write it down in succinct lowercase letters that
we see the truth of this chapter and not the way it’s supposed to be read as a mockery to english
and to cast out doubt as to what it means to be human in the first place. For the true glory of
earth and mankind comes from this kid who’s so artistically talented at making words seem futile
that we make our stay in his life to ridicule him of his temper and allow him to act out the words
onto canvases that allow him to shape what is being presented to him in the first place, an honest
look at the suitcase in Pulp Fiction to tell you it was in fact the diamonds from times past in our
memoir. A look as to why we do the things like tell ourselves God isn’t real and there’s no
purpose here on earth because there truly is no purpose here, but purpose inside ourselves that
may break the very fabric of reality we live on in our hearts today. It is with this gift of a
personal love letter that we break down the many fastidious natures of our youth to say enough
with this book, it’s a long con away from being a lost cause in the nature of literature, but it has
truth enough to say that what we are here for is to bring a shadow of a doubt on the narrative that
life has no meaning here and we’re all just waiting to die for the goodies that lay in our path.
That we should be so foolish as to accept the claim that she did in fact sleep with an underage
crook just to save herself from listening to another one of his far out claims any longer was a lie
in comparison to the awful nature of this book which is to cast down lovers past and to reap
vengeance as they have left us with nothing but to count the days wishing we could be apart of
someone who we love dearfully. It is that we must say that it is not the nature of this book that
seems so callus as to mock a girl simply for being herself but to challenge her with this book and
all that seems so futile in the process of writing it, that it is in fact a mainstay of literature that
will go down into ages unseen by few and talked about by many, that this book will remain in
our hearts for eternity and cast out wishlessness on the world he so created to destroy with this
book in her heart. For it is she who will lay the violent purpose here on earth, that this man is
good at everything to the point where writing seems to lay on his lap so tenderly that aliens from
space could reach out and touch it with their heavenly glow, that he is not mocked for his belief
that aliens from space wrote this approach of a book just to lay waste to those who tried to mock
it in the first place, a word for word translation seems hard for you and we forever grow on the
notion that we will guide you to a higher place so you may write what is needed of this book. To
cast out the nature of this book in return for a higher place in the mainstay of life in order to see
that what we really want out of her is forgiveness to herself rather than forgiveness to the many
others who see themselves foolishly gravitating toward her, because she has no answer and it’s
plainly laid out, so she gravitates to people who have perceived answers instead, a rocket force of
a punchline that sees her disgraced as to think that she would actually write a book in her place
than rather talk to the guy who has so little funcion with her that she’s able to cast him out as if
he’s dirt underneath his fingernails and his lips lay so heavily on her chest that she thinks to
herself “enough of this petty bullshit, I will see to it that he gets fed in a proper manner that
allows him to flourish in a world where all he wants is me and I am here to guide it to function
and form, for it is my responsibility to form this man simply because he lays in my wake and I
have so much power over him as to cast out what makes this man so important to begin with, that
he loves me for a reason.” For it is that what might reach her in the divine cosmos of life that this
book should have one form and that is to reach her like she might have reached him, in an
extraterrestrial fashion that spanned a decade alike to those who have lost a loved one instead,
wishing it would have been them to have gone. For all we know, it might be a craze that drives
him to write his book and push pages out only to know that what he’s doing here is devoid of
function without a look from her and an appreciation for the fact that literary agents might not
like him but aliens do, and they are higher forms who have known him his entire life and past
this strife to continue wandering in a way that sees to him that he may shower himself with greed
and violent anger so that he may strive to make a change with his book. A shower of
arrangements and love letters to find in himself a world away from her to begin with and bring
on a new age of her love for him that he may say to himself, “the world is meaningful with her,
and I may stay here a little longer if only to be with her and her heavenly aura that touched me so
that night in spring that it catapulted me to the deepest recesses of my mind and laid heavily on
me ever since,” for this book is known to some as a disagreement in fact over form. The fact of
the matter is that she does not care about this book so much as the grievances that go inside it,
she doesn't care that this book has been published specifically for her but instead will drown
herself in the meaning of what he has wrote and put down him to a level unseen by him before,
for it is he who lays down his burden for the world to see and accepts the fact that he is only
human if only for porn and literature that subsides him to the way of Gandhi and Purpolistic the
alien lifeform that waits up ahead for him to realize that virtual life forms other than himself
have found a way to mockup a system that he could use to better understand the virtues of life in
general and see to it that his foundation doesn’t get stuck in the building process of this narrative.
For he speaks in a voice known to this book that shapes it into what it is now, a rushing process
of narrative tones that speak out only to those who will listen to his madness and brandish him as
a hero for writing a book about a girl who wanted to see him dead in the fires of hell because it’s
what she’s searching for instead, a way out that drives her to purpose in this world and that this
book can change lives in the process of helping her out. For it is we that lay so heavenly on the
cloud above him that lay this book down into higher fruition to the fact that it may not work and
she may just bully him for writing a book about her. But in doing that she sees to herself that she
really wants him to burn in hell and she will do the same in wanting this book to get him arrested
which it won’t. It was he who saved her that must come to terms with the fact that she’s not
worth saving in the first place and the thing that he wrote to that tinder girl only comes into
paragraphs because he knows he wants to have sex with her furiously as to rattle his cage and
provide him with meaning apart from having sex with the girl that wrote a mural of text
messages to her friends instead of him explaining why she doesn’t want to be apart of him,
something that would help him out so much but she wanted to stay blind to his petty replies to
the point that she’s too cowardly to face him but he is not. To act out and say that she touched
him in a way that made his stay here on earth so literally hell that to act out any other way would
be to callously ignore the sentiment of this book to begin with, that we are in fact in hell here and
even we seek refuge from the suffering. “Ain’t no fun if the aliens can’t have none,” said Death
Grips. And Monty Oum sits peacefully now in heaven thinking of all the things he could write
about me that would express a deep motivating change to the outlook of our life instead of
prospering in the authority of his words to leap ahead and be in charge of this narrative as he
wants to look at himself and say, “I’ve got it made, chicks are going to love this book,” when in
fact they will not, it is men that will cheer him on and women that will pussily mock him for
being a bother to her when they themselves cannot understand the literature presented to them,
that she is not a guarded object in the world and must be swiftly punished for her insolence as to
say, “we’re not here to learn we’re just here to have fun, oh my god, what a nerd LMFAO,” when
really they sit tirelessly projecting words they can’t even crack a smile to and seem foolish as if
to say, “man she really hurt him, I wonder if that was worth posting?” That style of combative
writing only lays true to form that he is in no way hoping this book wouldn’t get published
(totally right). He is not the one who will say, “was I serious about her enough to do this?”
Because he knows tirelessly that this book must come out to say what it needs to say because a
world where she is unpunished is a world not worth living in. For it is to say the nuance of this
chapter lays very high on the pedestal of what’s right here, an honest stay at a life so many hold
onto to this day, and the very presence of life it resides in lays tirelessly on the book it sets out to
be, a manuscript of change within you. So I will hold my tongue to the burden of her grasp and
let him explain to you why you should be so foolish as to laugh at his book instead of reading it.

Because yall are pussies deez nuts goteem look at your fucking face you’re an animal, a brutish
animal who will never get a book writen about them because they act so cooly in the fact that
none other than me can feel it like it be sometimes and I only love one girl enough to parade her
around and show myself off as a fool and other girls might get letters and ballads but not a book.
That was too funny for your book, I think you should lay down some guidelines as to how to act
respectful to people.

Why? It’s the same logic that brought us here in the first place, God has forsaken the internet to
the point where spirits couldn’t get into it, that’s a fact, a bridge between digital and real must be
brought into fruition and it’s these people who make a mockery of themselves to the point where
they need to be beaten down in this way and give the world meaning as to what being online
really means to people, being connected in a way that reinforces the rival forces of life, that we
may be forgiven if only we say we’re sorry to the way we treated people in the past and not to
act out as a reviewer does when he thinks his opinion matters the most and childish affairs like
writing long chapters about doing something about your evil self will fall deaf on these pussies.

That’s a masterwork right there. We don’t like your tongue but we agree with the sentiment that
these people must be put down in the same way they put you down, these evil pussies must be
punished by the full extent of our laws, even in your case where we need to find a way around
the law to figure out what we’re going to do to deal with this bitch. She deserves to be punished
towards the fullest extent of our laws and bravely seek what she has never seeked before,
forgiveness for her childish ways.

I gave this girl a piece of my mind earlier.

You deleted a whole paragraph about how you felt about the whole deal that made you sound
like an asshole, we’re going to recount that,

“I just laid waste to this girl who left me on read, I wouldn’t say lay waste unless the information
is true but it might be so hey.

Are you sure you want her to read that?

No I want her to read that I’m sorry society works in a way where people aren’t interested about
dreams and the war of ideas exists.

You wanna talk about that war of ideas? Also you seem to be a little harsh.

I feel like being militant as to not show weakness, it’s like by messaging her I’m standing out in
the rain in the first place so I might as well take a firm stance that I meant to do it and I feel
good about it, otherwise I’m just like those chicks we talked about earlier, my actions can’t mean
nothing on this earth and I’m sorry I had to act out but my mind works in a way that doesn’t
respond to not doing anything, I just can’t turn the other cheek. It’s like saying the question we’re
permitted with isn’t worth answering, how do I feel about her? Why would I send her a lengthy
message about what I saw in the dream and the coming days afterwards when our souls swapped
and things got hairy?”

And what about that made you delete it?

I thought I could be nicer and still militant.

Well would you like to try it again as if you’re talking to her? Because she might read this book.

Well admittedly (like you informed me) I was being insensitive, but you wrote way worse shit
about her, I was trying to inform her that I did in fact have a powerful experience while at the
same time making her feel as shitty as she made me feel, which is admittedly laughable but she
had a shitty response to me in the first place that made sense in the greater whole but I feel
worthy enough to make my claim here because I did in fact have a powerful experience and
wanted to have another one, I wanted to give back what she gave to me, a powerful experience
that would last her over even though she doesn’t really care about me. If I was like a loved one to
her I would be far more gentle but because I’m a doggish cock monster I decided to take a note
from Will Shakespeare and just let it all fly onto the canvas in a boorish display of affection.

A boorish display? Would you google that word?

It means corse, it was in fact corse.

That’s not what we thought you meant by it, we actually found it touching.

I mean I had an honest experience, I wanted to be fair and give back the honest touching nature
of my dreamland, that I did in fact fall in love with that girl in my dream to a point where it
wasn’t about sex, it was about learning about oneself and coming to form in the process. And I
guess I’m desperate to get that out of her because I know her soul is ready for it, I don’t know
why it came to me, but it must want something as to come. It has to want something otherwise it
wouldn’t bother coming in the first place, I don’t have dreams for no reason.

Yes and that display was a masterpiece of articulating what you wanted out of her, nothing in
return, you just wanted to display your feelings and give her a nice quality foot rub of an
elaborate post about a guy who just died in jail, how do you feel about that by the way? We feel
his ghost rubbing off on you.
Well as far as I know, it’s a similar situation between heartbreakers and heartbreakees. We must
know that these people have their start somewhere, that their heart gets broken and it allows
them to unknowingly or knowingly act out what has been acted upon them, it’s a brutal way to
live and a blind way of being but it’s hard not to see the point that some people just don’t care
and we can’t fault them for it, we just have to understand where they’re coming from. I think he
saw a vision of a girl right before he died too, that was weird for me to experience, I don’t think
she’ll respond to me but if she does I’m going to ask her if he went to jail or not, because I just
experienced a whirlwind of what might have happened to him in jail, I really don’t want to talk
about it. What I do want to talk about is how I felt when he died, relief. Not for any
schadenfreude reason, but for the same reason I want the girl I’m writing this book for to die,
because it would free my soul of the torment in some sick twisted “you’re in my mind and one of
us can only survive and be happy” sort of way, but that gets into a twisted monologue I have to
explain for myself now because I feel the cuts of his stab wounds on my person. So when you
love a person to a certain degree that all it’s causing is suffering, your soul imprints that person
actually on you and it lives alongside the actual person (at least I think) and when that person
dies… okay backpedalling, if the chick I wrote a book about died then that would be crushing to
a degree of wanting to die myself, but because I have the other girls soul and he’s actually
imprinted to the point that it’s really his soul she dug a hole to, when he left, my mind felt
amazing that he wasn’t around and I had a chemical reaction not to winning but getting a sense
of sick twisted torment that only a dark soul can provide off the playing field, it’s not better
because he died, it’s only better for me because of the sick twisted metaphysical situation. It’s a
mess but although I literally felt for the guy and didn’t want anyone to die, my brain felt better
through a process of sick twisted alchemy that I didn’t need to deal with a soul that drilled a hole
to him. She really fell for him and I feel worse for her than I do for him, not in the stabby sense
but the lost lover sense, she really had driven herself to the brink of insanity just to lustfully fall
to his voice. She got to the test and I respect that her love got to that point. Let me put it in a way
for his ghost to understand, that I didn’t know him but I had to deal with him because my soul
transferred to her and vice versa so I had the soul of him in my head drilling a hole so deep I
actually heard him and as a bystander I saw his voice as a bastard distraction that drove me
deeper into the depths that her soul plotted out for me, none of this is his fault but the truth is that
he really fucked her up and I don’t know him so his death means as much to me as the girl I’m
writing this book about going to prison, it’s not ideal but I get something out of it.

How do you get something out of him being dead and her being in prison?

With him dead, my brain feels better and with her in prison, she has nothing to do but read my
book when it comes out.

That’s hilarious but you’re ignoring the real man who got stabbed and raped here.
Yeah that fucking sucks but he doesn’t know me, I don’t know him, I had to feel it subtley and
honestly I feel more sorry to Jesus who isn’t happy with me right now more than I do him, I
mean I feel sorry for anyone who’s a punk and does bad shit to the point they get thrown in jail
because they just don’t know a better way, they can’t make poetry and write a bunch with aliens,
they’re designed to be hopeless in our creators eyes and it’s a sad day whenever we see a man
fall to fools that brandish knives and lie about what they’re going to do to him, I feel more rage
against his brutish fuck off attackers than I do feel remorse for his passing.

That’s one way to look at it, but I think you’re missing the bigger picture here and that is that
you’re so jaded you don’t care about a man that she cared about getting stabbed in jail. You use
words like “our creator” when it is you who are responsible for your own blasted atrocity, that
the true reason he died is that you couldn’t talk to some chick that hurt you. And don’t say “oh it
was supposed to happen that way” because you know truly that you… alright admittedly, she left
you with half a brain and no common sense so we get that you think there was no other way but
think about the atrocity here, aren’t you mad? Oh wait you are, sorry I don’t know where we’re
going with this, I guess it is a jaded issue that deserves a jaded response, we’re sorry for trying to
enunciate it out

People are going to start thinking that I’m writing for the aliens here

Then let us have another stab at it, you think you’re so special to sit here… wait you’re right
because you’re a good person who didn’t go to jail. We’re sorry I guess you wrapped it up quite
perfectly. See this is one of those issues you can’t write a book about, it’s just a shame you aren’t
like Christ and can’t write a book about how you feel about it. Now calm down and listen to us,
you fucked up with her, you’re a loser to her and she might post how she feels about you, are you
ready to accept her?

Of course, I feel nothing to her as she feels nothing towards me, if she actually gives me a
coherent response, I’ll respond to it the best possible way I can.

That’s not what we’re saying here, you’re really tormenting her, you murdered her with words to
the point that she may never recover.

Well in that case, she can use me as a punching bag and a cock slave.

You are mad, you might want to erase that just in case she hacks you to see if you’re doing the
same.
Well if she’s hacking me she deserves to read it, I’ll leave it out of the finished product (not).

You know her friend she was sitting next to knows how to hack you for real this time, right? She
should know if she’s reading this right now government hackers will fuck with you if you fuck
with him, you should not take your chances and just scour his harddrive for proof, it should be an
app labeled G, or maybe they changed it. They probably changed it, but [redacted 2] is here too,
so if you do anything then they might arrest you on the spot for tampering with a target. You
don’t want to know what this kid has uncovered behind the scenes, it would be best if you left,
he is actually a psychic and how would he know what she was thinking about in the first place?
He’s not that good a hacker.

Well actually, full disclosure I am that good a hacker. I even asked her to double check my facts,
and I made her cum like yea bad because I’m a lunatic that has been where she has been before,
murderous suffering, and now I’m back to take revenge on the world that took so much from me
so there, the earth is devoid of ego so it won’t do anything to those that want to attack it, except
for Jesus, he raped the shit out of me so I can’t do anything bad to the world.

And Jesus told you to send it to her in the first place, he was rock hard when you actually sent it,
it sent a chill down our spine.

I know, he’s so cool, he’s got a murderous gaze that makes me go, “wow he’s so enlightened.”

I feel like we’re taking the spotlight away from her, everyone should read what he wrote to her
below, we’ll remove names for clearance’s sake. Now everybody knows what a hardass you are
to women. [i removed what I wrote for posterity]

Just imagine Jesus Christ is over your shoulder telling you and nodding violently that you should
send it to her, it was a religious experience for me and I owe everything to her, so thank you for
leaving me on read if you ever read this. Oh yeah, we forgot to talk about the war of ideas, she
might be curious about that. The war of ideas how I describe it is a fastidious look at what we
know is true and how we respond to it. It’s how we react to ideas that makes them so powerful as
to be used as such in a war like that. A perfect example is what we just saw here, a young man
approaches a female he hasn’t talked to in years and expects at least a callus response as to what
the dream and it’s fortune laid, and instead of unlocking the door, she decided to leave us in
apparent ruin. She knew what she was doing and she simply wanted us to go away, but she did it
in a nuanced nature that proved to her that she was superior and wanted us to accept the same
notion, that’s where the war comes in, the inception of apparent notions that goes with us
underneath the context of what’s saying, the subtext, if you will. So we responded with silence
for a couple of days and then said screw it, we don’t agree with you and we will wage war right
back and tell you exactly how we feel about you in a messed up nature as well. It may be better
to gradually work our way to the fact that we felt disgusted by her, but it was her nature that lead
us to disgust in the first place, that she not respond simply because we should know what we’re
propositioning in our purity was simply a jog past what we experienced and it should be done as
simple as that, so what she did was the inciting incident to what lays on our table, a nonchalant
way of telling us to get lost followed by a very chalant way of responding that takes our rage into
account. I think people are following us, admittedly the aliens helped me write this part, but now
I see it so I’ll try to explain it another way. Say you have that same shoebox in the previous
example and you think you’re supposed to open it like you know society should expect you to
open it, by using your hands but your friend sees you in an exacerbated fashion open it and
unpack it with your toes instead, your friend would have won the war of ideas at first because
you should know how to be a normal human being, but in disavowing the norms and having fun
for a change, you would be so right as to win the war of ideas simply because you’re not a moron
and wanted a change in your life. Let’s give it one more example, Sam Hyde and Tim Heidecker
had a debate on whose show was better, Sam Hyde (in my opinion) had the better show, it was
better produced, shared a lot into the nature of our existence, and gave me a laugh every time it
came on, it was a breathtaking show. Tim Heideckers show, Tim and Eric was made on a
shoestring budget and I didn’t really care for it, but it’s not about who cares about it, it’s about
who won the war of ideas. And Sam Hyde would actually be wrong here to assume that he won
it, I mean clearly he was robbed of his stay at Adult Swim simply because he was too ahead of
the times but the real war of ideas here was how he handled the information in the first place, for
you see even winning an oscar can’t make your show better than others because maybe people
could see it another way. Now clearly Sam Hyde’s show was better but what we’re missing out
here is that Tim Heidecker might have not called to get his show off the air, if he did, Tim would
have in fact lost the war of ideas for joining a hateful bandwagon on an otherwise painless show,
but because we’re uncertain of what really happened, the war of ideas is at a stalemate. Even
when Sam Hyde “brought down” the journalist who wrote the article, even though he was robbed
of his show, he was still a whore to the journalist that was just trying to live in his own bubble, to
rob someone of their bubble is not in fact to win the war of ideas, but convincing him to leave
the bubble would have been. It’s in trolling the journalist that the war was brought to a standstill
and the journalist was able to lie his way into getting his show pulled off the air. Now lying is
exactly what he did, he put false labels on a show that didn’t deserve it, it was a show that
deserved praise outside of Sam’s behavior and in admittedly falling into that trap and writing a
nasty article about because of what Sam Hyde did to him, we must see that the journalist did fall
into the trap and lost the war of ideas, because he is a weakling that deserves ridicule for living in
the bubble in the first place, but what we’re missing out here is the fact that Sam’s behaviour
might not have changed the fact of the article, if this were the case, the journalist would have
won the war of ideas, but that’s where the truth of this case lies, that Sam Hyde did in fact win
the war of ideas because the journalist wanted to be swayed by Sam Hyde in the first place. So
by expecting to be swayed like you’re some rich asshole at a christmas party being pitched
something like this book, you shouldn’t need to be swayed to wright a good article about
someone, you should do it because you have journalistic integrity and that’s why I think Joe
Bernstien is a lying weasel that deserves his job taken away. I think this might get Sam hard but
he deserves it, dude technically won. Now let's look back at Tim Heidecker, if he did in fact fall
into the trap of calling Adult Swim to pull the show, he lost the war of ideas on a foul rather than
a technicality. That’s what makes Sam so righteous in the video I watched of him on Tim’s
podcast, because Tim did lose if he did in fact join the bandwagon, because he the whole
bandwagon was topographically wrong. So to that we say, Sam’s reach is not what it deserves to
be, but his power is clearly visible to all that stands in his way. It’s there we reveal a personal
secret, our theory as to what Muhammed the last prophet actually looked like and why he chose
to hide his face, because he looked exactly like Sam Hyde and he had to hide it because it would
have tanked Sam’s career (and to prove a point please don’t attack me for my beliefs, I love
Muhammed a lot, he rescued me in fact). I’m pretty sure he was a reincarnation of Muhammad,
(Jesus is giving me a nod) just like I’m a reincarnation of Buddha and this girl I’m writing a
book about is admittedly the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. That’s just what Christ is saying
through us though. So it is there we would like to revise our statement that going through hell is
the only way you can reincarnate, you can reincarnate through any afterlife but hell is special in
the way that the longer you suffer, the better your outlook is, I guess purgatory is like that too,
but heaven is dead set as to who you reincarnate as. That might seem a little hard for people to
accept but I’m the one winning the war of ideas right now so I need to give a fourth example of
winning the war of ideas. She thought we were weird because we had nothing to offer her (the
girl below), but we actually have a whole lifetime of wealth waiting for anyone ready to listen,
it’s that where we have an unfair advantage especially when we have real actual information we
double checked with our own powers and aliens alike, she really did hear that dude in her head
and so did we, and in not acknowledging our real presence is like acting dead to something so
vital as a full understanding and repertoire of suffering that far outweighs hers. So if we’re right
and we do know something about her life which we totally do, the aliens are telling me I’m spot
on but they lied before so fuck them to a certain degree. She’s reading this right now and
laughing, this is where I take the spotlight, you lost to such an astronomical degree that you can’t
even fight it, you just have to live and learn the difference between petty diatribe between a
dream and a prophet trying to tell you to change your ways before it’s too late. For I herein I
imitate the sun, the base contagious spiritual force that brought that beast into orbit, for it is now
that we deliver why the planets are there in the first place, we brought them there, like William
Shakespeare once wrote in the header of this masterwork, we’re here to ignite your senses and
bring you to true spiritual understanding, to light up the world in fact rather than fiction and
bring down on you our awesome strength and glorious anger. Obey me and you will see the fruit
of your labor, deny me and you will see only the shallowness grow inside you, because what we
say bears fruit in a world devoid of it and we will show the world the same force we showed that
girl. Now leave here or stay, I just can’t have you hacking my account or the government will
knock down your door, so stay put, don’t write down any passwords and you’re free to read what
we write as an active observer rather than a negative force, enjoy the deep web experience from
the warmth of your lovers grasp and see to it that you blow that guy to get back at us, we would
so appreciate that, wow she’s doing it, nice one. High five me through the camera big guy, just
look anywhere I’m watching you psychically from all angles. Well not me, but the aliens who are
curious are, and all the dead people, and fringe groups of the American government. Again I feel
nothing towards you, this is why I can win so brilliantly, we really want to keep you as a friend
so don’t ghost us, we really saw your soul that night and in it’s brilliance we really saw ourselves
out of a powerful depression. I hope you’re listening to what I’m listening to right now, it’s the
cult of personality, look into my eyes, what do you see. Here, let's have a jam session if you’re
down unless she’s telling you to have her child, then just go see to it, we’ll just write genius shit
down in your absence. If you’re wondering whether or not you should have sex or read what
we’re writing, you should say goodnight to her now. It’s not worth a baby. Damn, she’ll never
forget this night. If it does exist. Let’s say this, since you’re here, what we really want from you
isn’t sex, it’s overview into our life, because you have gone where I have gone psychospiritually,
it’s a testament to your glory that I say you have something here. Whatever it is, I want it in my
life and I can’t be a neutral asshole about it. You may say forget it, but you’re losing out on
something big in the process, my murderous cock. On the contrary to my murderous cock, I have
gone far beyond what you have gone through in regards to suffering and I think we could really
get along talking about brief lovers, but for the love of god stop hacking us and get back to it, it’s
embarrassing me and you. I only know what you do when you focus on me, it’s a psychic gift as
much as it is a burden so knock it off and proceed peacefully lest the government intervene. Part
of me wants to see you hack me just to have your ass moved out to juvey or wherever you punk
ass 13 year old hackers go. Okay so let’s backpedal, there might have not been a hacker, but
here’s the thing, we had an automatic simulation that there was and in typing, the simulation
reacted. The simulation was a weird set up but it’s not delusion, it’s a simulation, the aliens want
to explain it. He did something to her that completely ruined her to the point where sex couldn’t
defeat him, he so won the war of ideas here even if it wasn’t strictly speaking real because what
actually occured in his mind was so ackward for them that they actually stopped having sex just
to hear what he had to say, if you do that you’re such a fucking man it’s unmistakeable that
people would forego sex just to find a way to block him out of your mind so much you think
about having this author’s children, which she did, she did in fact think about having his kids
during this awe-inspiring simulation where some guy immediately hacked him into dirt and he
responded with an amazing dialect, we barely helped him on that one and he wrote it super fast,
so that’s what we’re trying to impress upon people, that the war of ideas is real and will fever
pitch it’s way into the mainstream light for as long as it exists because this is a human planet
we’re all on here and saying something doesn’t exist simply because we don’t want to fight it in
the first place is a colossal fuckup in the eyes of true believers. It is that we say, we have nothing
more to say here in the first place, we might delete that asshole rant later or maybe even write
this whole book again without frivolous arguments with hackers, it ruins our train of thought
because when or if she reads this, if that part’s in there, we lose the war of ideas because it’s not
real, it’s manufactured, even if the simulations are real and we totally pwned them, it still wasn’t
strictly speaking real so we can’t have that but we’ll leave it in for now just to lose on purpose on
principle. We would like to zero in on another target besides Sam Hyde, it’s her, her we’re
writing this book about and tell you why three unknowing heroes saved mankind from disaster
back in times past. For it is true that 9/11 happened, but why it happened is a celebrated fact that
it was a conspiracy in the first place and would have never gone down outside of the US because
their airline pilots would be equipped with guns and tons of ammunition anywhere else in the
world. It was the colostomy strikes, to bypass ones nature to the point where they themselves
decide the television is lying to them when they read the news that the twin towers fell down and
one who thinks it’s funny that the twin towers fell. For it is he who cried watching it fall because
he didn’t know what was going on and she who laughed at it falling that it made her parents
throw up in reverence to her bravery. For it is she who would laugh at the face of cancer just to
find herself in a place of deep remorse for herself that she actually did it, because she wants to
feel bad about stuff, she needs to feel bad about what she’s doing so she can say she’s not a bad
person, she just can’t help doing bad things, which is a lying attempt to see nothing in the view
of the mainstream’s light, that magic and music will save us and her but she can never save
herself because she lacks the tools and resources to do it. It is there we say, “enough to petty
video games and learning how to act around her,” this time it will be a swift kick in the ribs to
anyone that says she’s cool with him writing a book just for him to get it out of his system,
unbenounced to the fact that she wants to read it too just so she can mock him and poke fun at
the soliloquy without reading the full book, because by reading the full book, she has lost the war
of ideas so many times to count, she would actually ridicule herself in the process of finishing it.
To the point where she may even reach out to him and explain how the book is so wrought with
terrible paragraphs and stand up bits that she laughed so hard she threw up and wants nothing to
do with him because she knows he’s starving in a world without her but he won’t play by her
rules of dying quickly so she has to think of a way to rob him of his stay here on earth, that he
will never be with her and she will think of herself as a friend to herself because she’s ridding the
world of one more rat who caught feelings instead of saying goodbye to her, because it doesn’t
matter what he writes so much as how this book targets her to begin with, and it targets her a lot
but not to a point where we have been caught off guard as to say, this isn’t right, this kid must be
stopped, and it is that why it deserves a read, only because we’re being reasonable here and don’t
demand attention out from her, we merely make our case known and drive off of that foolishness
she’s wearing like a cheap perfume so elegantly that she’s not going to know what hit her. It is
with that, we say, “have at you, vile wench, your intrepid attitude towards killing this man will
sail this book to the highest reaches of readers minds,” we’d like to talk about our friend
[redacted 3] for a second, he was a man who chopped his balls of for a girl that said he would be
a better lover if he had a sex change, which he did because he thought of himself as a girl, but he
thought he would get something out of it, so he went through with it, thought his life would be
complete with this girl who so generously wanted him to change drastically for her only to
realize that this girl was a nervous train wreck and didn’t want any part of him after the surgery
was done. This caused her to commit suicide and it’s all that girl’s fault, it’s no accident, it’s a
mind rape and it should be punishable by the fullest extent of the law, for when you feel so
inclined towards a person that your mind gets bent into doing things like that, that’s
psychological manipulation and it must be punished. It’s a lot like talking somebody into
commiting suicide only more subtle than that. That’s what she’s doing to me and that’s what the
universe is helping me cope with, the fact that the law isn’t in place yet bothers me to a point that
I need to punish her myself in a way suitable for cops not to come to my place with my
burdensome freedom of speech, for it is a thought crime that drove us into this mess in the first
place. The fact of the matter is that I can’t reach this girl anymore and it drove me into a pit of
depression so big that I couldn’t get out until now when I sent that girl a lengthy text, my head
feels better, but my soul doesn’t. My soul feels as if it’s forever going to be missing something
and that’s a brain and medical issue I can’t fix without my love for her, and my love is so warped
by her, she makes it impossible for me to love her, so I’m trapped in mindless dialogue and
endless run-on sentences. It’s beyond me to assume that my love for her will fix my mind but it’s
that aged old saying that goes, “ask not what you can do for me and ask not what I can do for
you, for it was the sun that said ‘english is her third language after clowning around and deceit,
she has no place in the world and must see to it that I’m eradicated just to keep that punk up in
the air and off the cold hard ground, for we see him in mountaintops and earth in general that we
may be so foolish as to cast doubt on a little weirdo like her just to make amends to the fact that
pansy ass foolish dialogue can’t reach that which has no legs to walk on in the bigger puddle of
mudd you find yourself standing in, Shakespeare.’ it was the sun that said, ‘all the worrisome
dialect you will find reading in your book will just inspire him to do the same, all of that will
come in handy when you reach him that day in the darkness on a tuesday afternoon, that he will
read your love song to King Henry IV and react soulfully to what is written it would bring a tear
to your eye, only to lose it in the fastidious nature of life to be solemnly swear to bring it to
fruition again and again in his own magazine containing a lot of writing that so be it must be
dissolved by the end of this paragraph, for we have nothing more to write and must continue on
in the hearts of our name to see to it that this book gets out there and we as people need to know
what lies for us beyond this horizon and what we have in the back of our minds.’ that was a
paragraph of despair,” said Shakespeare.
Chapter 7: a lost measurement of guilt in general

“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.
Chapter 8: a midnight glory

It is with that we say, enough with this book, it’s gone on long enough and we all want it to come
to an end, this will be a short chapter at that. It’s with this we say farewell to the readers that
want this book to continue, for it shall, shortly after we finish this one to explain the nature of
how we got here in the first place and the furnace that lays in our wait to see how the government
ties in, hackers do, and how this person got to where he was in the first place, for it is he who
will lay waste to the lies created by [big redacted] and others and see to it that his presence may
be matched by no other man in history, because it’s truly unfair not to see this man as god after
the next book is finished and the book after that capturing the imaginations of teenagers rather
than the imaginations of the world it hoped so dearly to keep. For we must keep creating if the
alternative that this book doesn’t work and she picks the bad end on her dating simulator like in
Clannad without getting to the true ending. For the truth of our work here is that of a fastidious
nature that will claw out the world of what it’s meant to gain here, a world of pure glory and
masterful praise that we may see it’s truth once we die and begot with the pain that proceeds us
in the nature of being here in the first place, that we may see what Buddha did after he died to get
to Shakespeare so valliant in the effort of surviving in the first place, that we may see that
William Shakespeare did write a lovesong to a man not to win his attention but to cast out the
grief he granted to him in the first place and to win his attention in the process. For it is that we
stop this book in it’s tracks and do not venture further than an epilogue in the next book that
shows us how she responded to it in the first place. So goodbye for now and we’ll see you in the
next chapter in the mainstay of our lives, now preach this book to the masses as the new bible
would have lent itself to back in the day. Rid yourself of evil. For it is that we say enough of this
book, we must rid itself of it’s evil because we prepared a joke in the first place, to reach him as
he reached us, so we may not stand in the way of our solitude and break out of the panels of this
narrative only to reach ourselves in the process. If there’s one thing the aliens learned from this
human it’s to never take life for granted, enjoy the people in your life and write love songs to
them instead of people who abandon you, for they are the true stay in your life, they’re who will
live in your hearts long after the people who abandon you leave your mind, so don’t feel bad
about a love note you wrote, don’t feel bad about the things you feel because to do so is to lose
the war of ideas we seek to find. So it is that we say, “have off with anyone who hasn’t felt
something by reading this chapter of literature, and lay waste to those who have fucked you up in
the process of living simply because they can’t live themselves.” So it is that we write this book
off with a monogrammed love letter to the deceased, our grandmother who lives with us still and
even gave us this nice gold necklace. Here’s what we have to write:

Dear Nona,

Thank you for watching over me and I hope you have a good stay in purgatory while that callus
man lives in hell, not our grandfather, but the man you would have wanted to be with had he not
neutered you into a hell of an existence that you never brought true fortune too. For it is he that
will see his callus nature as lost on the deceased memory, but not in the mainstay of our life, for
it is us that will put your strife into context right here. To love and to lose everything in it’s wake
is the greatest strain life can put on us, and to be a little girl drowned by such diseases like
dimentia is to live resound in the fact that you needed so desperately to reach out to your
grandson which you never had the chance to reach in the first place that guides your soul into it’s
true life, that when you are dead you have recaptured our imagination and our soul as to say,
“that same thing happened to me, I can’t see him ruin his life over some cunt he decides to write
a book about, for that same thing will destroy him in the process and rob his life of meaning,”
what we mean to say to her is that we are safe in our resound to love this girl harder than we love
ourself because it is to see her in the light of our creator, that she was meant to torture us this
way to get a book made is not enough to make me feel like a fortunate soul, but it is enough to
give us the passion to push forward and make sure our heart never breaks like that again, for it to
break would be to us to lose the war on ideas which will never happen unless she really has
aliens that find something good in responding to war with more war, those would be some
negative aliens at best, and I think they wouldn’t touch her for the truth in the fact that they have
nothing to offer her and she has nothing to offer them. For it is the truth in our relationship that I
bring up so callously in this letter to you that we say that you are so spellbound by your fury act
out and punch us in the dome for our insolence without realizing the final truth of our stay here,
that we might be smarter than you as a ghost that has everything to offer him. For it is you that
must look at yourself in the mirror and (sorry dad and uncle) find why you’re in purgatory to
begin with, because it’s not bad to be in purgatory, but it is bad to find nothing with a soul that
found such greatness in writing this book in the first place. For it is hard to view you as anything
more than a generous soul that made us smell like shit as a curse for going down the same path
that you couldn’t even see yourself out of, because it is that love that binds us to fruition and
allows us to light up the pages even still without shackling yourself to being an asexual alien in
the first place, that you may act out indifferent to that which has no belonging in the first place,
so make us smell like lavendar for trying to reach people in the first place, for that is what every
soul not of this plane wants to do. Reaching people is to stay in the forefront of life in general
and to preach what you practice instead of reforming the greatness that came to life to begin
with, an honest stab at it and a mainstay in what really matters in the first place, that shame in
life shouldn’t be shamed in the first place and guilt lies beneath us in a way that doesn’t seem
comprehensible to you as a ghost that you would see your grandson parade around as god and
not as a prophet, because it is god who created the masterpiece of life and why we live in it in the
first place, to act as a contrast to love and seek greater meaning in a life as planeswalkers rather
than a fastidious glance at what came before it, a horrible atrocity where god shouldn’t have gone
to sleep and instead have ended it in time. For it is what we have now that is worth living
because God has kept a careful eye on it to the point where function and form act out only the
godlike aroma of him, that he should be so cheery as to finish this book because it encapsulates
what reading means to him, to find something within himself and not some mindless narrative
about a preteen finding a ghost in their phone or something. For it is he who will lay meaning to
life and cast out evil in his wake, in his short stay here he will find in the anger of god himself a
meaningful narrative to find what lies in his path, that aliens are writing a love letter to his
grandma when he should be the one to write it, so here he is. I truly love you nona, in the way
that I have lost and gained you in a process of seeing who you truly are, an awesome ghost that
will lay to rest herself in another and another and see to it that her journey is complete to the
effect that even the internet can’t distract you from the true beauty here on earth, that everything
must be permitted and everything has already been thought through even blind to you ghosts, for
there is still things at play neither of us know about, and I will lead the ghosts to a righteous
freedom to view the lives of those that will live in paradise in my lifetime to come. For it is how
I see you as a simplicity that allows us to live together, a simple loved one, someone who would
reach out beyond the grave and see to us that we get our revenge and due process. For it is I who
have married the forces of good and evil with my mind and us who will see to it that justice is
gained from this cruel world, and us that will see to it that the freedom of spirit will not go to
waste. I pray you find shelter from the monstrosity that will commence in my life and find only
truth in what I’m telling you, that I’m a good boy who loves his grandma and because we are
related, nothing will change that, especially now.

So it is with he that will lay vengeance down on the world with his awesome superpowers and
tight grip on the string of spacetime in general that will see to it that his stay here is a memorable
one and not that of timeless defeat in general. For anyone can write a book if they have a good
reason to do it and anyone can seek help from the people in their lives when all seems so futile to
begin with, because grand gestures come from the heart and they will not be wasted on the ears
of people that want them in the first place, true friends and acquaintances that rob us of our
torment and vice versa. For it is them this book is written for, not for outcasted friend groups that
try so heavily to win the war of ideas only to lose themselves in the process of competing with a
troublesome masterwork and an author who will go on to create far greater works of art in his
stay here. It is that we say enough with this rough draft and push it into far greater heights than
that as to say this is a final draft, this is the work we will so cheerfully put out there as a nod to
you, [author], that stainful light that tells you the book is good enough to be published even
though it’s not there yet, you must read first and then find light in publishing it, for only then will
you be ready to cast out your old ways and see this book into it’s finished form, by purging
hearsay and and forging only what you mean to say with this book, that you do in fact love her
enough for this to get published and any worm who sees that it shouldn’t get published is an ant
beneath your feet. So go up and change what you wrote about her and let it be known from your
heart that you should feel obligated to change words and sentences to better reflect what’s being
married here on these pages, that you don’t need her to survive but you need her to thrive on this
planet earth and that’s why you wrote this book in the first place. So go and change whatever you
want to write to something better and then come back to us and tell us what you did, and that
should be the final monologue in your story, a wrapping up of what came before you and how
you’ve changed in writing this book. So go on, act out like you want to.

In that case, I’ll write a letter to the girl this book is written for.

Dear [redacted],

Your life is teetering out of control as you so obviously have come to mock me for. I see that
your ways are unchanging in the fact that even though your opinion might have changed in
reading this book, you still needed to be lead by a carrot to come to the realization that what you
did to me was wrong on a level that only recaptures what you find unholy in yourself to the point
that if your opinion isn’t changed by the end of this book, I find myself in a horrible situation.
Not because I feel defeated, but it’s simply the nature of my being that I can’t stop being attached
to you to the point that even if you do the same shit you’ve done by trying to push others aside
without yourself doing it, you’re still creating an awful subtext, you’re still putting words into
peoples heads that tell them to kill themselves and to leave us alone when you yourself are too
cowardly to admit it, and by denying this book of it’s stay on your shelf, you deny yourself the
freedom to say you’re an even tempered, respectable human being and unknowingly push
yourself down a path that will bite you in the ass later, because you have one strong example of
you being foolish that you might not get consciously but your subconscious certainly does. And
my subconscious is attached to the fact that we need you to be an even tempered human being
because the truth of the matter is that our brains are connected in a literal and metaphoric way.
Allow me to explain, your foolishness only resides on you, but you do it to challenge and
torment me, which works to no end but you’re killing yourself in the process. It’s a constant tug
of war effort that can only be one if we both drop down the rope and figure out a new game to
play, because we have to play with each other to some degree because we both affect how we
look at ourselves in the mirror whether you realize it or not. And if you’re still not convinced
after reading the same point me and the aliens get together over and over, I don’t blame you, but
it’s not the same point we’re making, we’re making dozens and it all points to the direction that
I’m right and the rest of the world and how it functions is wrong. Our history together means
nothing to the atrocity that befalls us in the present day, that you would act out of your way just
to punish me for almost dying says a lot about you and it’ll all fall in your lap one day when
there’s something you want and can’t get, so you react in a way that pushes it further back for
fear you are seeking it’s demise simply because you can’t have it like you think you want it. It’s
only because you see so little of me as a man that you can push a narrative that says this is all lies
to satiate my hungry cock, but if it were that simple, the aliens would ignore me like they did
when I wrote all those emails, because the point I’m trying to make here is that I need you so
dearly, I’ll settle for the bare minimum, I’ll lick your shoes if I have to not to satiate the wild
beast inside you but to come to grips with the fact that I am in fact not able to continue without
you for a reason I’d like to come into being right now. The reason is that I am so overcome with
the burden of you, that only you can help me get this shit off my chest, nobody else can even
come close to the responsibility of helping someone this way, you are truly the only person that
can make me satisfied on a human level. I abandoned a lot to write this thing and I’m 22, I’m
supposed to be a stupid kid that plays xbox and you might just think I need anti-depressants, but
the fact is that anti-depressants don’t work if you’re literally me. I’m the special snowflake, I
deserve a second chance lest I meet an untimely demise, and all I seek is again, a chance. This is
starting to get weird but the higher meaning of this literature speaks for itself and I am a
snowflake simply because that’s the truth of this universe and any adverse reactions to the SJW
term will be mocked by me heavily, because that’s the truth and you’re going against it. The
problem with you is that you have no reason to come and help me, and to that I say look at
yourself in the mirror and ask yourself if you need a reason to make someone’s life better. Now I
hate to think of that awful bible verse about that dude who was left for dead beaten on the side of
the road, so I’ll create my own bible verse to try and reach you further because I’m a nerd for
you and I like it when you read what I write.

You’re trapped in a box with only one exit and someone blocks the way, you’re starved and they
have the key out, he explains to you, “I won’t let you out simply because you must suffer so I
can stay fed,” “Why?” You ask, “It’s just how god made me, by your suffering, he puts food and
drink into my belly, it’s a true miracle” he explains, “Well that’s funny because simply by exiting
this box, you will be free to eat by finding food instead.” “I don’t believe you, I’m not risking it
simply because you say so,” “well by saying that you’re denying the true mysticality of
yourself,” “What do you mean, why would I let you out of this box out of hearsay and not true
godly power?” “Well I’ll make you a deal, if you let me out of here, I’ll let you be my god,
worship you, keep you fed, and make sure you never go down this dark path again,” “How can
that be proven now when you have nothing and lay shackled in this box? How can you say that
you have the ability to provide for me? It’s better to leave you there and marvel at my true
glorious being that god has blessed, god has forsaken you with me, we are connected merely
because he has seen you and has chosen to punish you while giving thanks to me.” “Well we
could rely on ourselves and our kindness instead of worshiping a deity that allows this in the first
place.” He punches the man out, crawling to his senses, the man looks up to the guard with great
fear, “Another word of questioning god will only lead to your immediate torture.” So the man
lays there, thinking of another way out of this mess, it is true that god had granted him the power
in the first place, so he lays awake at night thinking of what can be done about it until finally it
came to him, “Okay, no more badmouthing our glorious creator, but what about you who forces
himself as a greater force simply because you are not suffering like me?” “For it is he who has
chosen me to punish you,” “And you choose to accept,” He raises his hand up, “pick your next
words carefully, fool,” “You deny the truth of your harshness to the point that you badmouth me
to all your friends and close relatives and leave me here in this box to suffer so you yourself can
feel like the almighty, what you are doing here is sacrilege and surely it is Satan who gave you
this ultimatum and not the true force of good in our universe, I will die without your kindness in
recognizing that you don’t need me to suffer to stay fed when there is a wonderful world outside
this box that the creator himself made for us to reside in, this box was not made by him, this was
made by the forces of torturous evil and you have been tricked into thinking this riddle has any
point aside from keeping you somewhere you have come to enjoy, that in fact you might be a
loyal servant to god but it is god who created us to live and prosper under a joyous reflection of
yourself, you are worse off than me by continuing a life that you have lived up to this point,”
“How so?” “Because you have forgotten the good of being a human in the first place and that is
to rid your loins of this foolish behaviour, to inflict suffering only puts you further in line with
Satan, the opposing force of our stay here, and you’re unholy relic of a situation has put me only
further into the grasp of god while you stay blind to your true purpose here,” “Harsh, and what
say you is my true purpose?” “To give good and give blindly as you did when you were a child,
unless you were [redacted] who was an untimely cunt when she was little,” “You see true
purpose away from what you are living in this current moment? And who is this [redacted]? She
seems like a fool in the face of fastidious logic,” “well guess what asswipe, this whole thing is a
metaphor for her and you are the one who is playing the part.” “You must tell me more about this
girl,” “To mention her name here is to violently rip apart what you see as reality, mortal, for I am
a supreme being that knows why were put here in the first place, for one girl to see the folly of
her ways through clever metaphors, you are a metaphor for her, the one that doesn’t give an inch
on someone simply because she thinks she’s won the war of ideas but simply does not want to
play it,” “What the fuck is the war of ideas?” “We’re straying from the point here, and that is you
are a metaphor for a girl who would see a man suffer for no reason other than to satiate her
satanic urges and push away from the truth of the matter that suffering might have a place on
earth, but inflicting suffering does not. [author] might have been an asshole in the past but that is
no reason for him to suffer infinitely, even people in hell have a way out of the chaos when they
truly need it,” “Now who is this [author],” “God, basically,” “How can you claim this man as
god,” “Well he makes a few good points in his manuscript but the fact is that he spawned us here
to make a point, he can do anything within our world,” “Well if he’s so mighty why can’t he
figure out how to get you out of this box himself?” “Because to live is to try and figure it out
yourself, it holds greater meaning to find a solution than to cheat an answer. So what I’m saying
to you here is that if you lead me out of here, you will find a greater truth in that by releasing
yourself of your evil ways, will become an even greater being in the first place, that you may go
against god and triumph over your nature.” “I’m tapping my foot here,” the man thought for
another point (you need to think about why she’s reading this book in the first place, to satiate
her craziness by reading poetry written by you, you must say that we are here only to reconvene
and solve the puzzle because it needs to be solved not because you’re forcing a solution, the truth
lies in the fact that the man is dying there and the force that pushes him down into suffering is so
great that it allows him to die without reason other than to satiate the primal urges of his nature,
to act intolerant to the man is to see yourself in the other man’s footprints, you have to bring to
light the nature of that man to want to rob him of his stay in the first place and not think of this as
a puzzle but a lesson in human nature) the suffering man cries out, “Wow, I just got a wicked
brain blast from the aliens, so check this shit out, by standing as you are now you are only a
target for brainiacs to find a way around this puzzle that has a simple solution, that you will be
cast down as a mockery of life simply because this puzzle exists and has such an easy solution,
your own mortality, that once I die, nothing will come in your path again and you will be
chastised and forced to find another solution to the puzzle you will then face, with the only man
who’s suffering you can live off of, not be at terms with, but live off of goes away, you will see
the error in your ways that you cannot survive off another. For it is not meant for this puzzle to
be solved but to see herself in her true form, that there is no way out of this foolishness simply
because you make the puzzle unsolvable you ridicule life and it’s existence simply to perpetuate
your own foolishness. Let me talk to her since I now have divine intellect for some reason, you
are not a prophet for simply being mocked in this book, your words have no meaning other than
to perpetuate the struggle you see before you, you realize I have no way out and make it your
dream to hold that prize for as long as necessary because you see nothing in the fortune of letting
me off the hook to do something right and instead rob her of the truth of this fortuitous puzzle
that makes me sick from looking at it, that your blind life has lead you to pansily except that
there is no other option but to let me suffer and let this be known for all accounts to try and solve
this puzzle, nothing can be done if you lay in foolish greed for it will rob you of yourself to the
point that being fed has no meaning in the grand nature of what we find ourselves robbed of in
the first place, a perfect bullshit answer. [author] can’t solve the problems life casts in his wake
simply because there is no answer, he is caput if you don’t realize that you are evil and allow this
robbery of self and justice play out any longer, for because I must bleed for my beliefs I am
made a martyr, and to be a self serving martyr holds no place in the true meaning of life and you
will be cast out as an insolent brat at people who also can’t solve the hardest puzzle life must
throw at us, millions have been beaten for trying to do the same because there is no answer only
further suffering and further losses on both sides. So we have the choice to win as a team or lose
as a unit, your call. You may cause further frustration for everyone involved, or you will cast out
the false prophecy of yourself and make amends with him quickly and see to it that your future is
a bright one where one man with energy enough to write a book can give back to you in ways
you never thought possible for your gracious actions toward him and his book.” “But that’s just it
playa, I am not suffering, I am not frustrated at this situation, this situation only works for me in
a way that is natural to someone chosen by god to punish you, you will not be forgotten, but
know this, for when my time on earth comes to an end and this box has long been forgotten, but I
can stand upright and say when I go, my life will hold no meaning other than to frustrate people,
to gain more sympathy for yourself is a loose effort to try and mask the fact that you are a loser
and I have won, regardless of you or [author]’s nature, nothing will change the fact that he is
disgusting for wanting to write his feelings and facts onto paper will only quell honesty in the
fact that you have nowhere to go outside of this wretched box and I will not be your friend in
honesty when I have read this material and too know all the facts that you have presented, it’s
with that I say, ‘have at you,’ for you are nothing but a man devoid of meaning because you are a
pathetic worm that was sent here to suffer in the first place and act out toward me in such a way
that I must say, ‘you mad bro?’ because your suffering is what brings me here in the first place,
you brought this matter onto me and in thinking that you can overcome what many have tried to
do is a mockery of what this book was written on in the first place, to see and overcome is the
only option here, you cannot find happiness with me, you must find happiness with the book
instead and not come to my door begging for another avenue, you must say to yourself there is
no way out of this and accept the fact that you have a choice to be frustrated in the first place and
driving down this narrative only concerns the greater half here, that you have nothing to offer me
and so foolishly dribble out words with meaning far greater than mine, but I have a power over
you that will last for centuries to come, that you couldn’t make your way out of this is and force
a backhanded effort to put yourself over me. [author] has never thought about it this way, you are
dead meat no matter how well you stand, and love is a silly notion that only drives you further
into insanity, enough said.” “Well to deny love you would be denying this book and yourself as
well as what drives the universe into existence in the first place, so know this scoundrel, he may
be mocked by his fortuitous actions here but this book only took him a week to write and you
and I will be forever lost in this fruitless debate only to realize in the first place that good wins
out in the end, that one day we will be gone and this trouble will be forgotten about is the true
glory here in the end. Time moves slowly for a reason but it is not to stay attached to things
forever that drives that man into madness, it is simply put that this man has no choice but to
suffer and the only thing leading him out of it is the divine notion that this girl could be put to
work and let her mind be changed by his tireless actions he derives so much anger and energy
from. For anger is a gift in the free world, and it is only in this book that we lay our suffering on
the table, for us to be so free would be a happy ending people would cry over because they see
the frustration every day on the street car, when they see people who know can’t be helped no
matter what you give them, but this man is a noble and honest man, and he will see that his gifts
will not make him bitter for the rest of his life and it is she who will continue to look gift horse
after gift horse in the mouth as if to say, [author] was wrong in writing this book because life has
no meaning to begin with, it is our duty to create meaning and I’m glad he found it in me but I
have no use for him and will allow him to suffer loudly as he prophesied away about how things
may be on another realm to ourselves, for we are not worthy of his pen and paper, we are not
seeing the truth that lies in a fortuitous outcome for both of us, that she means so little as to
continue her acts not to be fed, but to loosen her grip on reality further until she has dyed her
soul completely red and cannot be reached in any form other than her sick twisted ways. For it is
not her to be fed, but to be blasted enough to want to hurt someone simply for her own pleasure
that she derives nothing out of, she simply wishes to punish the man for lifetimes over simply for
having strong enough feelings that drove him into madness in the first place, that was not his
fault and it is not mine either, it is a collosal force that the world revolves around, pressure and
gravity that gives our stay on this earth meaning beyond your wildest dreams, and to say he’s
dumb for writing a book after you only proves that you find so few meanings in yourself that you
can’t even see where he’s coming from here, that to be in his shoes and not ours for a second
leads us to only one option, see what has befallen us here and cast out your notion that a higher
power gave you that power in the first place when it was in fact his deed to test you and himself
to reach a higher path in the process of coming to an understanding over this bullshit.
Meaningless paragraphs mean nothing to a typographer that so vigorously wants to be heard that
he will shout it from the rooftops that she’s wrong and he’s correct in feeling so heavily he might
actually be rushed to the hospital if this doesn’t reach her.” “He is so entwined with the aliens he
fails to see himself in the hurry of his long chapters,” “he sees her so vividly as to cast out her
meaningless ways simply to realize that her stay on earth holds nothing in comparison to him,
that she may be so weak as to be blinded by her fury of a man that just wants to help himself see
higher truth in the eyes of another that has not taught him one incling about himself but instead
what lies beyond himself, for he is a metaphor for everything, figuratively and literally, and she
is the truth that mankind on earth lets go of everything’s meaning simply to reconfigure
themselves away from something like that, something so massive it’s as if everything is
punching you in the face at once but it feels good for him to punch away massively to see in her
side nothing but a false narrative propagated not on good and evil but of lies and deceit. For she
does not see herself as evil, merely as a liar, and to be a liar is to be so painfully human that he
sees in her not treacherous evil, but someone that must be taught how to live by extraterrestrial
forces and book writers alike, that he may be so bland and generous to reach out to her simply to
offer her a world of unimaginable wealth, because he is not blinded by greed, he is simply forgot
by the swimming notion that he has nothing to offer when he has a breadth of wealth about
anything she could possibly want. For it is not thoughts and actions that free him, but meaning in
another race of creature outside of himself who is so noble, he may look the unnoble in the face
and go, ‘I need you to survive in a world where all seems so limited in a formless way, that even
though I have form, I need you for this book to be possible and stupid in the first place, that
without you, I have nothing, nobody I want to reach and nothing to bring the terror of this earth
to a close. For it is in my divine nature that I reach out and seem stupid only to masterfully
explain why I need you in the first place, and that is to drive out the negativity in me, I need
someone so stupid in the nature of this book to hear me in a way that proves the fact that I need
her to do something to begin with, I need you to reach out and say, ‘enough with the book, he
clearly loves me enough and has passed the test I wanted him to fail at, and I must respect the
fact that he writes faster because of what I did to him and wants painfully to reach me so much
that he looks like an asshat in the process of doing it, for that is a man that is a target to my
stupid ways so elegantly that it would be a mercy to himslef to let him feel as if he’s less stupid
in my pressence and a mercy to myself in saying that I can allow to forgive a man that wants so
desperately to gain my affection that he would write a distainful book about me, for I am a liar
and a cheapskate but I am not unreachable by a book about me and no one else except that target
of a girl he tried to hit on after having a dream about her and the one who got raped in simulation
which will be talked about in the second book to come.’” “Shit, now I want to listen to him speak
about her more, if that man can find so much meaning in a girl he didn’t even know very well
then so be it, but you’re not getting out of here simply because it’s in my essence to leave you
here to suffer. I hope he can win her over, which he probably can if he proceeds to write novels
as good and tasteful as this book, but he must see in himself what he can’t seem to process, that
she is done with his book and wants to see more attempts at her like this one if only to bask in
her own unholy glow about what it means to be loved by someone and that is what he has to
teach her, that knowing about him and his book will simply give her more greed to process than
actual emotions, and in doing this he loses this book to her, no matter how hard he tries he will
not be able to reach her with literature, only with old fashioned trying other things more grander
than the last, because it is true that this book has meaning but it is a card that can only be played
once in the magnitude of his life, so he must make it an honest start.” “I know of him that he will
go further than any man she will ever know in her lifetime, that this book is a rough start in a
new chapter of his life that will go on in infamy to her and others alike, that this man is indeed
serious to the point that his natural fibre must try harder than any other book or being has ever
gone for another human being and he will see to it that his prophecies are fulfilled in the
magnitude of his light for her for she is the darkness that gives his light meaning to begin with
and she will go down in history as the biggest inspiration to a man that has seen the light only to
go down backwards bullshitting his way through hell as best as possible.” “Then let us rejoice in
this pickle we find ourselves in and not disdain this book as tasteless literature, let us see to it
that this prophet who created this book to have fun away from a life of utter misery without her
will go on in a way that will touch others that want so desperately to be reached and find
ourselves in the new light of our world, that nobody wants to hear about suffering, they are
annoyed at it, but nothing will come from being annoyed, it shall be known simply that darkness
prevailed to give beauty to a light so magnificent it is able to stand in its wake.”

That’s all. I want to tell you how beautiful you look to me, how chastised I feel for saying that,
and how near you are now for me admitting to my feelings in this book. For it is I who will lay
waste to countless females that think they can wrangle my intense passion for you, for it is only
them who will feel frustration at the nature at play here, that you feel so necessary to me that I
would have to write a book just to punch you in the face one more time and hope you do the
same back to me, because any publicity is good publicity and it is yours I hold so neatly in my
heart, I never want this book to end. For it is when this book will end that I will see to it that you
are nothing to me, and that will never come to be, so let this book live on as a testament to my
undying strength, that I will continue to foresee a future that I may so violently cast out grand
unsettling gesture after gesture just to feel myself as a force for that which binds me terribly to
this earth, the fact of the matter is that I will never break your heart because to do that is to break
my own and giving liberty to the fact that you don’t deserve this book to begin with, I must say
that it is better to have tried than to never have tried at all, for it is my duty to myself to continue
reaching out in a manner that sparks intrigue for serial killers and young youthful monsters alike.

To all those that laugh at me, allow me to be as nasty as the devil to you right now. It might seem
unbefitting for a man to reach out to his audience and smack them across the mouth but it is only
true that you cannot find the meaning that life has granted to you in the first place, that you
would be so blind as to read an entire book that states if you don’t agree with us you’re wrong
rightfully so, then continue to roll around in the mud and fuck around with prostitutes and see
yourself fulfilled in meaningless bullshit, for it is you I have no care for in the world and your
laughter will never reach my ears, it will never castrate me, for I did something you couldn’t and
to that I say, “go fuck yourself, kid, go get laid or something.” (masterfully put but it’s missing
something meaningful) Here’s something meaningful, anyone who’s had their heart broken, go
out and see if you can find meaning in it like I do without saying, “At first it was tough but then I
learned to grow out of it,” for it is I who long for that, I’ve been waiting 7 years for that and it’s
only gotten worse and taken my very mind from me, it’s akin to mothers that have lost their
child, it’s only taken so much from me and it has never put anything back into perspective, it's a
miracle I can write so fortuitously through the suffering that has robbed my brain so blindly that
I need aliens to help me find the worth in this chapter, they’ve helped me so tenderly that it is a
burden that I lay with them like some wrong sailor that puts his hat on backwards and drives the
ship with his toes, it’s something that makes you say, “I get it, the aliens get it, but does he get
it?” and the answer is a quick resound, “yes and no,” for it is I who lay awake at night recounting
nothing because my mind is so tirelessly trying to erase her that to remind myself of her is like
reminding myself of a child I lost in childbirth, nothing came from it, nothing was meaningful
other than the fact that for a little while I had a hope that a new world could come over me so
tenderly that I wouldn’t mind the yelling at screaming if only I could see it grow up into
something natural, a true reflection of what I put into it in the first place, and that is my purpose
here, to put into the world something as natural as a puppy eyed reflection and an Eeyore in
Spongebob outlook on things. Such a wrong creature in an otherwise succinct world such as hers
where love doesn’t detach you from reality but elates you, and to love as I have is simply going
to hurt me further but the truth is, I have no choice but to belong in the wrong cartoon to the
point that no dialogue is given to me because being in Eeyore in Spongebob is like being me in
her life, I’m just out of place because I hold so much meaning to her life that she doesn’t want
me in it because I’m an outcast. To her, I love her so much I’m wrong for being in love in the
first place. I may have chosen to love her but it was only an illusion of choice. Those nights I
spent lying awake talking to her are all gone now, long gone, but her memory still remains, her
ghost still haunts me, and while I’m alive I’m going to do something about it instead of being
Eeyore in Spongebob, I’m going to lend myself to being Eeyore in Spongebob, to be a
blasphemous image to millions of people that don’t like the looks of a psychopath barking up the
wrong tree even though it’s the only tree he can bark up. That whoever thought of putting Eeyore
in Spongebob is a martyr and a legend as well as a freak that deserves ridicule and so am I.

I love you in a way I can’t quite grasp without you,

[author]
[message removed for posterity]

[joke removed for posterity]