I’m tired, for a lot of reasons. The FBI has been setting me up for at least twelve years. That’s the timestamp where “God” revealed Themselves to me on an acid trip in a highly discrediting manner because dazzle camouflage. And that’s why I’m tired; I get banned left n right performing my role in society.

I don’t have a job. One reason I am tired is that my life partner actively sabotages my attempts to create sustainability for both of us. We might be almost homeless, but that is not a concern to him. His role is important. He is setting me up so I have a good cover story, I deduced. But that’s the thing; I serve this role, and I’m good at being an idiot, and therein there are many low-level mod that cares about their special space where they are God more than they do the individuals who occupy that space

On the surface, I can take on the appearance of being a belligerent troll. If you listen to what I am saying as a whole, you’ll see I do what I do for a purpose. How do you teach those that refuse to do a spirituality and improve themselves? You trick them:

A pedagogical skit of three lines:

Man: I am the son of God!

Woman: That’s blasphemous!

Man: But sister, surely you know our Father?

I know what effect I have on the world, because I know who finds my work at a certain, deliberately low rate. I figured out how to garner 100k views on my profile per day by skillful trolling six years ago. I know how to get Michael Jackson levels famous now, but I don’t do that. I realized that’s unsustainable. You can’t help individuals like that. So, I learned to be a red dwarf instead of a supernova so I can work with the people that get caught in my orbit.

And most mods don’t even talk to me. They swing their hammer blind. Well, that Roman with a spear sure didn’t know what he was doing, losing out on a promotion for completely other stated reasons. It’s like we engineered our culture to ensure the idolatorer amongst us reveal themselves. That’s someone who gives a sacrific to the gold bull but doesn’t give a shit about a person on the street of their own neighborhood.

The neighbors talk between themselves about me. They don’t realize how lowly they are developed. In Arizona, God is the most similar to what I experienced in Tennessee and North Carolina, where God has a lot to say about WHAT I am doing, but offers no help. I have not made a single friend here. They just fuck with my head around me, saying things TO me while they hold the conversation off in the corner.

I’m tired. I’m the type of tired sleep won’t fix. Everything is falling apart. It’s not my fault, but I could be better. Could other people be better? Absofuckinglutely. They’re stuck though, addicted to their identity. They know not what is written in the flesh itself. They are run by their culture, and thus I forgive you all, because I understand what I put out comes back to me.