Death Lesson - 26
(question) My frustration is? (answer) The business of life is hard. Here I am trying to write myself out of hell. Trying to prove I have repented but sadly Kali has abandoned me. You see, a long time ago I started to write this book because I thought I was the anti-christ and once I finished it the world would end...now I know I am nothing but a thirty-year-old mad man attempting to get his foot out of his mouth with a crowbar.
The idea was that when you got to New-Jerusalem, you would be handed a copy of dharma-discharge and would see how it was imagined with false history and everything. It is a companion piece to the bible. Commentary on it, if you will. But I wholly believed that it was my job to end the universe.
Ending the universe with a lie? As the antichrist, I believed that it was my duty to be the opposite of Christ. So when He died for the worlds sin, then I would live for no one's sins. Yet when I met the lord, I was thoroughly put in my place. Being tormented by devils, doubts, and I giant cockroach or so he told me. When I was sent to hell, it was my job to care for a box until Joseph bishop was to be guided or befriended by it depending on who you ask. Now I sit in my apartment in hell. Writing my apology. I know I am a feeble-anxiety who has cried out in the wilderness and told that this was my home.
In the madness, I can see the delusions, and now I know how massive the cornerstone block is. Should I give up? And accept my fate? If you are reading this, I have obviously chosen against that. Instead pursuing an exit to wherever I can go. I love Christ though, I just am a living example of how not to live, how not to share fellowship. I am the worlds bastard and money hates me.
My daughter doesn't call anymore...not since I escaped the forgotten channel. I remember waking up with a headache surrounded by baren walls. With an unlocked door between me and freedom, I flipped off the cobweb-covered camera. Finding that my discomfort only makes me want to say "you know how I want it!" and that with a wave of my hand I could wipe away all of the madness if not in the world at least from myself.
"it's the will of the lord." says the cockroach. "forever" he continues in repetitions. I can't remember his name and make a point not to ask him anything. still, he goes on, rambling with that infernal scratching of his legs in the box the only noise to focus my mind so that I may finally finish my book. "my life's work?" I laugh at myself more than anyone. I can not imagine a day when it is finished or one where I have peace. Understand though I mean it when I say I am sorry.
Most of all for the lives, the unreal lives that I imagine for myself. I have not written the blasphemers bible only a fantasy to find meaning in my feeble existence. God forgive me and any who may see these pages and be led astray.
The idea was that when you got to New-Jerusalem, you would be handed a copy of dharma-discharge and would see how it was imagined with false history and everything. It is a companion piece to the bible. Commentary on it, if you will. But I wholly believed that it was my job to end the universe.
Ending the universe with a lie? As the antichrist, I believed that it was my duty to be the opposite of Christ. So when He died for the worlds sin, then I would live for no one's sins. Yet when I met the lord, I was thoroughly put in my place. Being tormented by devils, doubts, and I giant cockroach or so he told me. When I was sent to hell, it was my job to care for a box until Joseph bishop was to be guided or befriended by it depending on who you ask. Now I sit in my apartment in hell. Writing my apology. I know I am a feeble-anxiety who has cried out in the wilderness and told that this was my home.
In the madness, I can see the delusions, and now I know how massive the cornerstone block is. Should I give up? And accept my fate? If you are reading this, I have obviously chosen against that. Instead pursuing an exit to wherever I can go. I love Christ though, I just am a living example of how not to live, how not to share fellowship. I am the worlds bastard and money hates me.
My daughter doesn't call anymore...not since I escaped the forgotten channel. I remember waking up with a headache surrounded by baren walls. With an unlocked door between me and freedom, I flipped off the cobweb-covered camera. Finding that my discomfort only makes me want to say "you know how I want it!" and that with a wave of my hand I could wipe away all of the madness if not in the world at least from myself.
"it's the will of the lord." says the cockroach. "forever" he continues in repetitions. I can't remember his name and make a point not to ask him anything. still, he goes on, rambling with that infernal scratching of his legs in the box the only noise to focus my mind so that I may finally finish my book. "my life's work?" I laugh at myself more than anyone. I can not imagine a day when it is finished or one where I have peace. Understand though I mean it when I say I am sorry.
Most of all for the lives, the unreal lives that I imagine for myself. I have not written the blasphemers bible only a fantasy to find meaning in my feeble existence. God forgive me and any who may see these pages and be led astray.
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