High intensity neons greet where beats flow through an elite on a street. A tatted youth pushing and shoving for room. Little child, carrying deadly signs and mottos of doom, you've been blastin Jay Z and BK all wild, but your watch isn't twelve anytime soon. You're just highschool karate under the shine of the moon. A hungry heart. A glowing start. You aint quite in New York but one day setting out without fear you'll make it anywhere.
Standing out in the crowd in fights, all my friends are Romeos and knights, waiting for starfall shoulder to shoulder beneath the dustland heights. Above a club a light, fizzling in all white. It flickers a bit to meteor showers. A lightshow above the flowers. Bursting sidewalks. Walking the talk.
An entrance shoots lasers into flying, and out flows a song of an ending world all mixed with lying. At the corner of Patagonia and twenty one a starlet is crying. She has the world in the palm of her hand all death-defying. Carrying to save humanity, how do you feel. And you kneel like a romance is dying.
A windless whim admits evil sears and she asks amid tears, will you deliver the nation from its bond. Salvation lies in there where your Kingdom has corrupted and grown fond. We held hands midst the surging seas. Where a model swirls around a pole on a purple scene we slip between. Sifting through smoke by coyotes on coke when the music stops the chorus is shout all the way out. We raise her banner to fare through the hulking air when heated lamps summon a sun on a stage. A mingle of phones has a storm of torches shone into welcoming a new age. Rushing through our veins is broken chains - the mother of exiles.
While all awake are not there for her sake. A Challenger pulls over by an army with rebel flags. Where they rally in rags headlights wash the crossing of life, a super clean cat passes without strife and a crow leaves a powerline with a fife when a sudden wind flows downtown with danger. Inside the heat swelters stranger to stranger:
we make out in a wardrobe where no one will find us fly, only peril will pass us by, and when you let go the touch of your cherry lips suddenly hurts. A line's formed a ring of shorts and skirts. Fondling dust between hands, there are no other bands, no other lands. We are the tempest-toss'. Some guys push us across. Skeleton suits, metro cuts and hands with jagged rings. Counting down to the beginning of all things, to engage video game style, a type of violence so almost admiring. And we brush dirt and vile, yelling firing; all you have, is your shame, no one will remember your name. And it stings when a baseball bat swings. Senseis and rats are rolling out to kill. They're a long way for a little thrill. And some will sleep well tonight because we danced under the starry night's lights.
We're all stars walking in under those flashes, raised in the fame they say we're features of a flame, we bolted freely under a summer rain, wondering, will we remain the same. We're so far up in this bracket sometimes when the sky drizzles a bit from the pain, you have to straighten your jacket. We awaited the morning to walk against the horizon. We're the patriots of Lexington and Concord.
Out in the yard a slight breeze fondled me, like the winds would do here in the Underworld, they would caress you almost like touch. It was Zephyr, instrumental in one of his trades, maybe games, he blessed the God’s world with a tender ambience. In the plains of Greece the blasts would bite, sometimes chill, like currents of punishment. This was different. I don’t know where the Anemoi reside, they don’t live here. Above the sound of cicadas was a slightly drunk laden man walking zigzag along the road down to the Chimera. He had a white flowing toga and sandals. In his hands were two goblets filled with wine. I think he noticed me in his haze for he had just stopped and looked in my direction. He burped loudly and proceeded to laugh at his own brashness. He lifted a goblet and drank some of the wine, then he waved me over. “Come ere” he said loud “why are you so much a dimly lit painting in this warm pleasant eve”. Quite conversant for someone to hit the drink, I thought.
“Hello” I said “what can I do for you”. “Be greeted” he bowed. “Oh surely no need to bow” I returned, but I bowed back courteously. “No surely not” he humoured “You are not a God” and he laughed. “Well, neither are you” I pointed at him. “How do you know” he returned quickly trying to regain a focal eye of me and imitating me by pointing back at me. He was almost pointing at me. “Looks can indeed be deceiving” I concurred. “Yes, we cannot trust what we see down here” he scratched his chin. “But this unplanned and confused state of presence doesn’t normally entail the prominence of divinity” I vouched. He looked around and then back at me. “It doesn’t seem like I know what I am doing?” he asked and took a gander into one of the goblets now empty . “Well” I smiled “neither do I, anyone at this hour”. “I am” he set the goblet on the ground not intending to carry it any longer “actually on the way to a feast, the immortals are celebrating some anniversary, I do not recall what, but it is an excellent event to be at convenience”. “Hmm” I said. “And ... you are invited” he said quickly. “How do you know, you don’t even know my name” I said. “What is your name?” he wondered. “Lysander” I replied. “I know your name” he said. I set my hands out. A pause ensued and he drank some more. And then some more. I looked around. “Will you allow me the honor of yours?” I tried to make it seem natural to continue the conversation by aiding in the somewhat obvious. “Hera..kl.eitos, he stumbled some on the words but I could construe their constitution into an entity”. “Herakleitos” I said “this is a great name”. “What is a name but a title and what is a title if not a false idol, we should name ourselves as to portray our character” he returned. “Wow”, “well that would be ‘the one who makes cartwheels’” I humored. “Yes, yes” he nodded, “see now I know something about you, liberator”. “I”, “my parents were a bit grandiose”. “It is ok to be audacious” he defended “what is life if not to seek excellence in all pursuits”. I looked at my dirt-stained workshop clothes and brushed mud off my forehead “this is, you see now this is a bit ambitious, I’m a hand in a workshop” I said. “No” he shook his head “you are the backbone of the Lex”. Sounds like the Roman general giving us the you are the last line of defence, not a guy with a spear on a wall. Anyway, I liked Herakleitos, he was sympathetic.
“Oh, so you know this place, do you work there?” I asked. “I know nothing” he said and stared into me. “Come again?”. “I know nothing” he said again. “Oh come on you know...” and he intruded “it is wise in the matters of knowledge to presume ignorance”. “The more you know the more questions you have” he joined “I like to ask questions” he beamed and then he suddenly coughed. Some of that wine had apparently got stuck in his throat. “Are you ok?” I worried. “Too little wine” he raised the other goblet into the air and then emptied it all so brashly it must have gone straight down his belly. “I am going here” he pointed “to the festival”. “No that’s where you came from” I opposed. He looked at me. “Right” he said. “I am going here” and he pointed down the other way, down the road. “Join me, cartwheel maker”. I had planned on an early rest but he seemed like too much fun. “They invited me?” I thought aloud. “No, but I did” he said. “You speak for them?” “Have you ever felt uninvited by the off duty soldier?” “No I usually invite myself and get thrown out, it is custom” I said. “Custom” he wondered “what are you from the north?” “No I am Greek” I returned. “Let us go” he said.
We went down the road past the workshops and the little market that now lay empty and shut. The fishermen’s nets hung empty and the lamp posts along the way fought a fickle fight. “I don’t get thrown out nearly as often as I portray” I said to start the conversation again “most immortals are quite nice”. “So, you are not an immortal?” he asked. “My fate isn’t determined yet” I thought about Hypnos suddenly saying “make your ways”. “I make my ways” I said. “Good, the future belongs to those who believe in their dreams” he boasted. “Yes, or those who survive” I worried looking at the large towering Chimera with it’s daunting enormity. Atop a tower a few flags lay still, slouching along their poles. At night the road, only sparsely lit, was cumbersome and made you risk falling on stones and I was anxious about my newfound friend who walked a little less than that of straight forward. In the distance was a big house charitably lit with a garden of bonfires, shadows could be seen walking back and forth, some stood still and we could hear some chatter and faint, but merry, songs. Here we also happened on a few other folks, I say folks but trust they are a little more than folks, heading down towards our destination. “Do you know anyone here” I put forward to Herakleiton. “Do you ever know anyone?” he answered and continued “what if you are the only person in the world and we are only your imagination”. “Do you know anyone here?” I asked again. “Yes, some, hmm ... many” he said. “They kind of know me, I don’t know...” “Names, titles, I know, they are difficult to remember” “Yes” he nodded, “but I love people” he said “Alexandres”. “No, its Lysander” I returned. He pointed at the crowd who by now could be distinguished as beings by themselves and not mere shadows. They were mingling in a courtyard, a garden that seemed to stretch around the house and in this garden were some of those vines with red flowers that were so prominent around the finer establishments at the Chimera. The bonfires were fed with rich brown logs by soldiers in combat gear. They had some security it seemed. At a long table near the entrance was a collection of chalices filled with some dark liquid.
Walking towards the table a really big man halted us in our steps. The man looked down on us and set his arm out so as to keep us from entering the grounds. “You are not of the Tetragon order” he spelled out “are you on the list?” he asked. I looked at Herakleiton. “No, but I shall kill you and then I shall go forth without your list” he said. I was stunned and envisioned my friend would taste the hard cold stone ground but to my surprise the big man lowered his arm. “I jest” he said “you are all very welcome”. “Good for you” Herakleiton raised. The big man chuckled. The dark liquid in the chalices wasn’t wine it was something else entirely, something reminiscing of what they had at Lerna Major. The nymphs enjoyed a better cuisine than us at the Chimera. It was like cherries, maybe, I hadn’t seen cherries in the Underworld so it probably wasn’t. “What’s in the drink” I asked Herakleiton but he didn’t answer. In fact he wasn’t there at all, as I looked around it was just me, the table and all those filled chalices. My friend had gone somewhere else. Maybe I would see him in the crowd only further me but many others were wearing white so he wouldn’t actually stand out in the mix. I guessed I was on my own. I took another chalice for my first was empty and proceeded out into the garden. It was a fair mix of men and women, I would say it was about the same. Tetragonian was mostly men but there were of course exceptions. Immortals on the other hand certainly evenly divided seeing there were many ways to be a soldier for Hades’ court. Between the bonfires that took a central spot in the garden were smaller fires where wild boars were grilled. On tables were plates with huge chunks of freshly grilled, marinated, meat available for anyone to grab a bite. They had seasoned it with white garlic, an assortment of different colored paprika, probably smoked, and then thyme. I am no cook but it seemed to be about right. I wasn’t hungry so I walked past but someone noticed me and reached me a plate just to be polite and I said “thank you, maybe later”. “Anytime” he rejoined. A slender man in a moustache and short black hair underneath a big white toque that looked kind of peculiar, but he probably liked it and found great pride in his outfit so why not more power to him.
I wallowed through the sea of people to find myself a conversation. I was alone now but this was more exciting than what I had planned anyhow, and I’d definitely be alone without Herakleiton, so I was just thankful. And right as I thought about that I happened to walk into some kind of a wall because I almost fell backwards, but when I looked up it wasn’t a wall it was someone’s back. I had spilled the contents of my chalice right on his garbs and they were probably soaked, certainly stained. I don’t know how I couldn’t see him in front of me but I had walked straight into a person who stood in a ring with a few other guys. The person turned around and took a look at me. In the brief moment I had to get an impression I could see a very tanned Mediterranean native, he had a tunic that covered his chest, on his shoulder was a black trident etched into his flesh, his arms were three times mine and his entire stature about twice. He was smaller than the guy at the entrance but he had more refined lines. He didn’t move an inch when I crashed into him, and I almost fell, so it was probably only raw condensed strength in that body. He examined me for a few seconds as I put my hands out. He had black markings underneath his eyes and a big brown beard. I was about to say sorry when I noticed he braced to swing at me, I understood in that moment that he would knock my lights out unless I moved but in an instant almost as quick as that initial realisation a figure to his side tackled him to the ground. I looked at the rest of the gather and they just shrugged. They were more my size, more tanned, I was bleak, and they were maybe more fit, they had an assortment of markings and scars along their arms and legs, brown tunics with slings and belts with sheathed daggers. One of them still had a mail on him. It looked warm and he was sweaty. The guy who had saved me now stood up and helped the other, big, guy up too. He had long black hair and a trimmed beard, he too had a trident on his shoulder. In fact they all had. The big guy brushed off the grass and what else had stuck on his clothes from the fall and looked at me. His eyes burned like hot coal and he was breathing heavily, almost fumed. “Ant” he said “you walk around in Hades dumb, deaf and blind and I carry your dearth”. “What do you do? You have ten seconds to figure it out or I beat up all my friends and then you so badly someone will have to drag your wreck to the soul smith for a new beginning”. My mind raced. “I am Pan” I said. “I mean I am Pan’s friend”. “I lit a torch” when suddenly the other man stepped between and leaned forward. “Take it easy” he said calmly “Menesthius is not going to harm you”. I breathed. His eyes and eyebrows smiled when he noticed I was relieved. “You are not exactly Pan” he continued “how do you know him?” My ability to produce relevant language had been temporarily hampered but it was slowly returning to me. “Well” I scratched my head, looked around then back at him. “He helped me, said he was on some mission, it’s difficult to say because he is a bunch of character”. “He is the only Olympian here because he believes there will be a new titanomachy”. “That is what we do” the man responded. I straightened myself and extended my hand for his so as to greet him, maybe thank him for what doom he had saved me from. He straightened himself too, looked thoroughly at me then back at his friends and then at me. The he pointed at me looked at his friends and smiled. “Pan’s friend” he laughed. The others joined. “I have no idea what Pan sees in you but...” he took my hand “I am Lefos” he said. “Lysander” I answered. “Lysander” he rejoined “we are boring beings, you know” and he looked around and he focused on a few other gathers. “You go there instead, have fun and don’t worry” he blinked. I backed away and receded into the middle of the garden. Lefos turned to his friends and they seemed to resume whatever they were doing before my horseplay.
I walked away, making distance in the garden, I thought instead of lingering here I’d enter the house so I made my way through the open when seemingly out of thin air someone suddenly grabbed for my arm. It was a light but determined touch. “That was quite a show you put up there” a soft voice said. I turned around and found a woman standing there right next to me. “Why how did you, where do you come from” I confused. “I am very fast” she said. “No you literally arrived from nowhere” I said. “Yes that fast”. I was stupefied, no one is that fast. She must’ve found it a little bit embarrassing. “Am I bothering you?” she wondered “because if so I ..” “it’s ok really” I interrupted. “I just couldn’t contain myself seeing that myrmidon enrage and you had no clue”. “Oh. Yes. Them ... right”. That was Achilles band, straight from Elysium, now it struck me. “Yea that was ...” when I ... my thoughts suddenly spun a thousand times as I got a look at her. She was slightly smaller than me with fair light skin framing a cute face and a pointy but not too sharp nose. Her eager eyes examined me. She had blonde hair that she had partially tucked behind her ears, but it still flowed down on her dark tunic that revealed part of her stomach. For someone so fast she wasn’t very brawny, instead she was very feminine.
“Yes, they kind of rearrange your priorities before you get a chance to say something. I don’t even remember what we talked about” I said. She laughed. “So you are a new recruit here, immortal”, “ooooo” she bowed, “to stem the tide of those really menacing, grrr, foul, booo, evil giants” she put her arms out, made claws of her fingers and some face probably trying to imitate some kind of monster. It wasn’t that bad. Someone so beautiful can’t really look bad. “Nice impression” I said. “I’m a soldier, but not Tetragon”. “Well, not yet anyway”. “Everyone here is tetragon” she spun in a circle so gracefully I didn’t even know if she had really done it. “Do it again please” I said. “Everyone here is a tetragon” she said and tilted her head confused. “No spin” I returned. “Oh”, “oh” she nodded, “no”, she shook her head “I don’t do things on command” she shook her head again. “I guess that is ok” I reached out to touch her shoulder just to understand that she was real. Her warm skin radiated right into the palm of my hand and I felt some sort of consolation. Like there were no worries. I was unburdened. Entirely free. I let go and I was suddenly in the garden again standing in front of her. “What are you?” I wondered. “What am I?” she thought aloud “is this a question, I am a living being, just like you”. “Yes but when I touch you I feel something I never felt” I said “its strange, wonderful”.
She laughed again. “See my hand” she said. She put her right hand straight at me. “You see it?”. “Yes, I see it” I returned. Then she swiftly hid her right arm behind her back “now you don’t” she said. “Now I don’t” I nodded. She laughed. “No, ok” she sung. “Here, again”. She stretched out her right hand at me. “And now you are going to hide it behind your back” I said “clever”. “Nah ah” she shook her head. In an instant her right hand morphed into a light brown lion’s paw with huge claws and fur. “Ok” I took a step back. “That is a trick”. I was about to reach out to feel the fur when it changed into a normal hand again. “I am a lion you see” she said and growled soothingly. I’ve seen everything I thought. “How do you do that?” I was beyond curious. I mean there was Minos and Rhadamantys but this was an unassuming yet gorgeous girl, a woman. She rearranged her tunic a bit. She had dark trousers that didn’t go all the way down and some kind of sandals. “That touch you felt” she said “when I married my husband, Aphrodite was so charmed by us that she blessed me the gift of becoming a lion at will ... and I carry her blessing in my blood, that’s what you felt, I think, yes”. “Your husband?” It wasn’t the most startling thing of what she said but “no he’s dead” she said. “I am too” I said. “Yes but I mean we aren’t together”. “Oh”. “Most would probably ask what is was like to meet Aphrodite” she made a crazy move with her finger. “Yes what was it like to meet Aphrodite” I returned.
“So you ask” she said. She set her arms to her waist and thought for a second. “You don’t really meet Aphrodite it’s more an experience where you feel her presence in the room, it’s probably something like what you felt touching me but your entire being is consumed by unending love and admiration”. “Ok but you must have seen her?”. She nodded. “Yes she had small sparrows flying around her and then there were bees around her shoulders, cute small beautiful yellow bees that hummed, and she had a dress made of flowers and seashells”. “Hmm” she took a pause. “She wasn’t huge but still tall, I mean compared to me”. “And her voice was so alluring that she could probably say anything and it would make sense to you, basically when she talks you listen”. “I listen to you” I said. “Flatter” she blushed. “No this is different, it’s her embrace some kind of ... she is love in every essence”. I looked around. “You must be quite special, I mean don’t misunderstand me you are beautiful but so is everyone else here what made her choose you?” “Thanks for the compliment” she went sad. “You are special to me” I said. “Better” she smiled.
We went to lean against a fence that cut the garden and a lake into two zones. It was easier to hear what she was saying now with some distance to everyone else. She threw a rock in the lake and it skid on the surface twenty something times. I threw a rock and it fell flat to the bottom right away. “Why did she choose you?” I asked. “Your rock” she laughed. “I don’t speak for her she is a God, you know, but I know something”. “What?” I wondered. “She is a nubile, Lysander, she never had a childhood and so that’s why she loves young beings - because it fascinates her of a youth she never had”. “Ok, that’s news to me...” I said. “And I was brought up by Artemis and she haaaaaaates Artemis so she was even more happy about that”. “Wait what, another God?” I said surprised. “What is your name ... are you also a God?” “Yes, I am Chaos” she said “fear me”. “Funny” I said. “No, really I am, if anyone is then I am” she braced her muscles. Then she got upset. “I am not a God” she said lowly.
“I am a huntress, the swiftest one in all of the Aegean”. “How do you know Artemis” I asked “this is fascinating and I was like...”, “beautiful girl lets hit her up, yea I know” she said unimpressed interrupting me. She reached up and grabbed a few leaves from a branch. “I am of the wilderness, I was left to die by my King who also happened to be my dad”. “I’m sorry to hear that” I said saddened. “Why would anyone do that?” “Because I wasn’t a boy” she said and tears left her eyes and evaporated like in the same. “So I was left at Mount Parthemon on my own in some forest”. She looked around to see if anyone was listening. “I am listening” I said. She looked at me and nodded. “In this sometimes cruel world there is a guardian that tends to innocence” she pointed towards the Underworld’s stalagmites that extend all the way up there in the roof. “Above that” she made a pointing motion with her hand upwards. “Artemis” I resolved. “Yes” she nodded.
“She is also the protector of the wild”. “Like Pan” I said “I met him”.. “she is the protector of the wild” she continued “and she can talk to animals, so when she noticed me she entrusted the mightiest and most brave bear she knows to take care of me, to bring me food, show me where there is water and protect me in her cave”. “You lived with a bear?” “I was only a kid and it was only for some time and this was”. “You ... can talk to animals?” I wondered. “No, I said Artemis can, I can’t” she lament. “Oh” I said. “Oh” she replied. “Not impressive then?” “It is, go on” I encouraged. “Artemis recognised I was born with an exceptional prowess for hunting and she sent two huntsmen to teach me everything”. “I didn’t get much love growing up in that sense, I am only an exceptional huntress” and she kissed my neck really fast. It didn’t send me anywhere else but it was so quick I didn’t have time to react. “Artemis favours you” I said. “She did”. “Not anymore?” She shook her head “nah”. “Because you had sex?” I said blunt. “Yeah, and I believe in love, she doesn’t. She is a little one of a kind”. “Her followers are taken by Aphrodite”, “let’s just say Aphrodite doesn’t believe in chastity and so on”. “Artemis does, she is the paragon of innocence”. “So they don’t like each other”. “I haven’t met them” I said. “No offence but why would you” she looked at me and then hugged me. I hugged her back and I felt a kind of resolution of complete and utter meaning arrive, feeling right at place. “You never told me your name” I held on to her. She laughed. “Atalanta” she said. “What is your name mysterious not-quite soldier yet dead in the underworld with immortals that walks into certain defeat and talks instead of runs”. “I am Lysander” I said. “I don’t move as swiftly as you do”. “I like this name” she let go a little and looked at me. I’m a simple soldier, but I’ve been here before, I thought, and I kissed her lips. It may have been remnants from that drink but her lips tasted cherry. We kissed again and again and again until she let go all dizzy. “So this is what you call defending the divine laws, making out with guests?” “It is” I kissed her “a little above my current responsibility”. “They all do but you just seem to have a good time” she was curious. “Those myrmidons breath battle and can’t stand staying around..” “Well now that I know them I suppose they are not enormous fans of the tetragon”. “There are more” I countered myself. She jumped. “More”. I kissed her. “I could tell you but you would run away from certain defeat”. She punched me in the stomach and hit my ribs. It didn’t hurt, it was just surprising. “I can defeat anyone” she said. I delved into my mind and returned. “No these you can’t”.
We left the place after having laid in the grass making out by the lake for what felt like a short time, which probably means it was a little bit longer than that. For having an unusually tight tunic it was very easy to take off and I don’t get around nearly as often as I like making cartwheels so I am a little lumbering. I think maybe Aphrodite did bless her with a little more than lion form however. On our way hanging onto each other I passed a familiar figure. He was more enthused than last time we spoke, at high zest. He had a bottle of wine and spoke in front of a few soldiers who found his discourse entertaining, maybe educating, maybe just fun. He is fun, I thought. “What are the answers to the really big questions in life” I posed to him. He set the flask aside. “You mean what is the meaning of life?” he smiled “haha” he laughed heartily “my favorite, you see”... “this guy is drunk” Atalanta whispered to me and dragged me determinedly away. I could hear his voice recede in the night while the most important question I ever asked remained unresolved for the time being. “There are some very interesting figures in the Underworld” I said clinging on to her. “Everyone has a story” I continued. “Life and worth are indivisible” Atalanta returned. “I was alone in that forest, I was a nobody, and someone took me under their wing, raised me”. “Yes, now I am a story but I wasn’t” she said. “Artemis” I said.
The door opened easily for once but when I volunteered to lift her through the door for fun, I thought, she jumped down. “This is probably what you always do, I can walk myself ” she said and smiled. “This is what I always do” I repeated. “Not tonight” she said from somewhere down the house. She was in my storage sifting through bread and vegetables and potions when I arrived in. What are these for she took out a bottle with what probably looked like a kind of sludge to her. “It’s if we get really wounded” I said. “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen” she laughed. I lit a few candles around the house, one at the door, another in the small hall, a few in the bedroom, even more in the windows when I realised I hadn’t asked her what she was doing in the Underworld. “What are you doing here, by the way?” I asked. “You brought me home” she said confused. “I didn’t take you to the Underworld. You’re in the realm of the dead”. She sat down on the bed. “The real reason I can’t tell you, but the, how do you say, you were Roman legionnaire, right?” “Something like that” I responded “Ya, you say ‘something’ like ‘Rome is the light’, I am not good with words”. “They tell us that” I agreed. “I am not dead” she said and I sat down beside her, lift her hand and kissed it. “I am not dead, see, but I know, Hades is the only hope for this world”.
“Gain” someone spoke muted. I must have fallen asleep. I looked around. The candle had died but some of that light that nestles its’ way from above had made its way down here into the Underworld alluding to daybreak. “What did you say?” she was underneath the covers, making a dent in the bed’s landscape. The linen moved a bit. “Again” she hurried. I took hold of her right leg and pulled her onto me from her hide. “Ow” she surprised. “You thought you were hidden, huntress” I leaned over her kissing her forehead, her eyelids, cheeks working my way down her chest bit by bit. “Tell me why?” I thought aloud “why are you are here?”. “Why are .. you .. are .. here” she repeated trying to make sense. “A little bit distracted” I defended myself. She pushed me away from her breasts into sit up and sat up herself. “You said something about the wild lord last night”. “What is she talking about” I wondered. “Oh” I realized. “Uh, Pan?” I tried. “Yes ... him, I’m from Arcadia” she explained “neeeever seen him”. “You me both I lived twenty six years in Thessaly and I saw nothing, I didn’t even believe in.. I mean, of course, but not me ...” I deliberated. “Not you?” she didn’t understand. “Yeah, to think they talked to me specifically” I said with some hilarity. “Who talked to you?” I started counting on my fingers. I ran out. “Everyone?” I said “been running errands”. “For Pan?” she questioned. “You are curious what he is doing?” I wondered. “I ask because you want to know why I am here and I thought maybe it coincides”. “I don’t know what you are doing yet, but I think it does, yes.” “So, you haven’t seen him in the woods?” I touched her side and felt a gentle alluring sting rush through my body. She tilted her head. I came to my senses. “You have never seen him” I coughed once “two ragged horns that go around and come back” I portrayed them from my own head "a wild mane with some small braids extending down on his chest” I ruffled my hair “much thicker than mine” I added “an amiable, young and very eager light skin visage with big eyebrows, long hairs on drawn-out upwards ears, he has a golden ring on the right side scapha, a bountiful yet styled beard, he is my height, he’s not skinny, but he’s not burdened either, on his left arm he has a bracelet of twigs, brown patched suspender pants, a sort of dark knitted jacket broken in many places, sown together in others, worn ankle-high boots of black leather, altogether a work of art, and, of course, he carries around this enormous shiny metal flute-like thing of interwoven pipes, leaves and branches themselves intwining a few green gems. It’s not solid but the mesh doubles as his shield. He is unmissable, if you haven’t seen him you’ve heard him.” “So this is him” she dreamt. “You see him?” I wondered. “Yes” she nodded “and no” she upset. “I’ve witnessed unusual gathers of animals converging at creeks or large trees without any seeming explanation” she explained. “Only sometimes this is preceded by faint music, maybe this is a giveaway, but, there are many lifeforms in the Arcadian forests and glens. Some nymphs and satyrs play instruments too” she nodded “and some of them are more elusive than others” she deliberated. “He knew me, even before the legion” I baffled. “The great Pan, huh” she envied. “Well” and she hesitated. “I ... had a” she continued only to pause. “Yes” I encouraged lifting her chin because she had lowered her head. “Go on” I wished. “It is not jovial, but ok” she nodded. “A scarce light in a night I was on a field where warm vicious winds threw the crops around me into submission and I stood there in its midst as the summer currents surged against my body. I am raised to run into storms, light and unhindered, so I could move, if only I could see where further. When I saw a shade an arrow’s flight beyond me, a woman in a black shroud that was caught in the current, only this distance away from me in the field. She stood there and sometimes she vanished only to appear again. Never have I seen such a sight, I thought, and I started walking towards her and when I did a voice coast my mind like the winds around me. Words arriving in melodic sentences, almost songs, it was spellbinding.” “You understood what she said?” I interrupted her. “No, it was something foreign” she said. “I started shouting but the wind didn’t carry me”. “I went forward trying to reach her, and I got anxious when the words suddenly stopped and there was only silence and the growing tempest. Then she disappeared in front of me entirely. I was alone, wind howling when a vision inside suddenly hit me with hurt. A vision. It was only an instant and it was gone. And I fell, inconsolably crying, right there in the field, shouldering a haunting sorrow.” “And then” she said lighter "I awoke in my bed, see, it was only a dream I realised, I was more than relieved” she nodded. “But” she said loud “I sat down at my desk and scribbled down this dream. And when I was done, well, I woke up again” she said. “Mysterious” I added. “Yes, what is going on, I thought”. “I went out of my bed and I went to my desk and there, there was a note”. “Strange”. “I reached out and I lifted it” she showed how she did with her hand. “Judge my surprise, it was empty”. “But when I lifted it even closer I could tell someone had lined words throughout the page, only without ink. But there was ... something”. “The traces were there. Unreadable”. “Woh” I worried. “I have had dreams too” I said “sometimes they do mean something”. Maybe I thought. “Maybe this was a hint what you dreamt was important, but not you writing it down?” I tried. Depends I thought. “What did you see, do you remember?” “When you say it like that I second guess myself, the, how do you say ... appropriateness” she juggled her stance. “Do I know who you are?” she considered. “No, I don’t” she solved. “We have been together for a little while, you have to believe in something” I tried to make her feel better. “I know I am Lysander” I took her hand.” “You don’t have to tell me anything, I’m here for you regardless”. She took a heavy breath. “I saw the golden garden burning” she stared into the void. What. “It shall sign the end of eternity” I shocked. “That is their plan” I erupted. I looked at her and she looked at me. She clenched her teeth “not if we have any say” she angered.
“So that is, you went here for this?” “After this I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t know what to make of it.” “I combed my hair, washed, sharpened a few arrows, gathered my things and went out to wander. Maybe I could hunt.” “See I love the wilderness, it is peaceful, it makes you forget worldly worries” she said fast. “And that day in the forest I also caught sight of a brown deer grazing in the distance”, “my luck”, “we need the food, sometimes, sometimes we need the pelt” she shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I took out my bow and charged an arrow, I lined the shot, I am a good shot, only the second before release a black bird tackled me” she looked at me “arrow went haywire, deer ran away, but the bird ... it flew around me in circles”. “It was a crow” she explained and measured a big wingspan with her arms. “So I seized another arrow and aimed for it”. No I thought. “Arrow scratched a wing, some bloody black feathers flew, and he circled me once again, and attacked me again, this time his claws clenched my quiver and, surprise, he took it, flying away in a direction”. “My quiver” she burst. “I went after, I am almost as fast a bird, not quite, almost”. “I followed this thief through the trees and we got to a thicket, a more dense grouping. I went through the foliage entering a glade and, ‘woha’, there was two people, standing there, they looked at me. I recognised one of them right away, Zoe, she is a huntress too, the man, no. Zoe held on to my quiver. She explained a crow had dropped it there.” “Who was the man?” I asked interrupting her. “A tall tanned person in a simple dark green tunic, a simple brown bag also and reinforced sandals”. “Thesus” she pronounced “he was at the festival last night”. “Oh, ok” I realised “it wasn’t him” I said to myself. “It was him” she insisted. “No, the crow” I said “it’s a God” I explained “I know him” I said. “Tell me about these two you met?” “Can you kiss me?” she urged “I guess I can” I leaned forward and kissed her lips. She is fiction. Sometimes she sends you away into another state, forgoing current time and room for another space where worries are forlorn, and it hurts a little realising this light belongs to her and cannot be taken, only given. “I feel better knowing it wasn’t just.. “this is all connected” I said surefire. “It is” she agreed “they had also had a cryptic sighting, and ... they supposedly met by a fluke”. “I don’t think it was a fluke” I said. “No” she shook her head. “We all knew we had to go to the Underworld, and I didn’t know the way, and Zoe has no idea of the way but Thesus, he has been here before” she hurrayed. “Can I sit in your lap, I am a little cold” she asked and she went up and sat her legs and arms around me. “You went here together?” I continued. “Ya” she said. “You are happy I moved up to sit here I notice” she laughed. “I’m the happiest person to ever have met you” I returned. “Zoe and Thesus” I asked and she grunted slightly “it can wait” she whispered.
“What’s the craziest thing you ever did?” I puzzled. “Hmmm”, “what we just did” she giggled. “Come on” I said “oh ok” she hummed “killing the boar, everyone thought I didn’t, but I did” she said proud. “The boar? There is only one?” I returned and rolled on the sheets over on her tummy. “Calydonian wild boar” she spelled and ran her fingers through my hair. “Share, I am all ears” I wished. “This klutz king called Oeneus in the region Calydon”. “Calydon it is where?” “North of Patras” she made a map in the air “Aetolia if you are still lost” she marked the spot. “I know now” I listened. “I don’t know if it’s like this because I haven’t spoken to her since but it wouldn’t surprise me, come to think of it, because they say this buffoon, he is a buffoon, he had forgot to honor Olympia, and they were heathens anyway, so what happened is someone, they say Artemis of all, but she is nice so why I don’t know, someone released this huge wild boar that totally ravaged the countryside destroying vineyards, crops and ate people”. “Big pig destroying everything, sounds like the Persians to me” I humoured. “Yeah, so they had gather some talent to take care of this and this is where I come in”. “I’m an argonaut” she smiled “a huge group of us went there with some heroes they found in taverns and pubs, garrisons, what not, some knew what they were doing, and some had been tricked into doing it by others who didn’t like them, and they were in for a surprise, which was probably the point altogether”. “You tracked the boar?” I continued the story. She nodded and sneezed once and then again. “Me and Meleager, he is also an argonaut” she sneezed “we found it in a farm south of Calydon Fort”. “This was a big, big, boar” she marvelled. “We snuck around by the corn and we could hear it snivel and shuffle by the houses”. “There were some amateurs already there” she put a hand in front of her eyes “you wouldn’t believe”. “They ran around with pitchforks trying to, I guess, fend him off or something, that thing had thick skin” she nodded “you understand?” “So we could see from a distance these peons ran up and stuck the pitchforks into its’ side, maybe defending their farm, obviously to no avail, and what happened is, when it was done digging through the cabbage it actually noticed those people turning around, and they were trying real hard to be something, but this Calydonian boar it just lowered it’s head and charged one, and it had tusks like cavalry spears, so he was goooone right there.” “The others started running back and forth, realising this was maybe not such a good idea, and we thought we would intervene but having it riled isn’t opportune for a kill so we watched while it devoured them”. “Gross” she remembered. “It had big sharp bristles all along its’ back”. “Maybe they run around down here somewhere now” she looked around. “Probably” I said. “I’m sleepy” she yawned “I’ve been up alllll night”. “You have to share what happened”. “Oh la di da” she conjured “It went to a stream to drink, gave us an opportunity, poison arrow straight in the head” she nodded. “That was it?” “You bet” she shone. “Some didn’t believe we did it”. “So Meleager and a few other argonauts, I wasn’t there to know who, they killed these sour apples that wanted to rob our reward” she said “no one will miss them anyway”. “Plexippus” she spelled “share that name with your soldier friends”. “That’s the craziest thing you ever did? Killing that boar?” “He wasn’t a boar” she countered “Calydonian wild boar I mean” “Ah, yes, well, hmm, it’s up there” she contemplated. She sunk into the sheets.
“Zoe is an argonaut too but she wasn’t there” she continued. “Theseus used to be a king in Athens, he killed the Cretan Minotaur” she wowed “woooooooooo” she made a ghastly noise “believe that”, “the minotauuur”. “He is also a bit of a big stupid, but don’t say I said that, he is otherwise nice, brave, strong and ... stupid”. “I’ve traveled with him for two weeks he would be upset if he knew I said that”. “But” she continued “he knows he is a big stupid himself so maybe it’s no offense to join the choir”. “Why is he a stupid” I chuckled. “Do you know this man that lives here, Hades” she troubled “yes” I laughed “he is the ruler of the Underworld” I said dumbfounded “there wouldn’t be anything without him”. “He has a wife”, “uh hu” she said, “Cora” she pronounced, “well” she scratched her head “Thesus had a friend, whose name I’ve lost, that thought it’d be a good idea to go here and snatch Cora, and big stupid listened to his friend and because there is a million different beings down here that abide to Hades it didn’t take them long to get caught, and they were stuck here in that jail part, until Hercules rescued Thesus, and was pardoned by Hades, his friend is still here looking at stalagmites eating little bugs that come wallowing around in the darkness”. “I met Hades a few times” I considered “I had no idea Cora even existed”. “I want to meet them one day” she adjured “you will meet both Theseus and Zoe soon” she said “he will tell you in detail about the Minotaur, if you ask him”. “Shaaaarp deadly horns, red burning coal eyes, big menacing nose, huuuuge arms, hands that can crush skulls, break swords, and the cute wagging tail” she recited. You’ve heard this before I gathered. “I am impressed” I said.
I also sunk into the sheets. This day, it wouldn’t amount to much. “You” she raised “this night” “yes?” I returned. There was a wildcat roaming around your abode”. “It’s not an abode, it’s a house” I protested. “Abode, abode, abode” she said “you live in an a b o d e, you haven’t seen a house”. “What about the wildcat?” I said “you find wildlife in all the Underworld”. “Reminded me of Artemis” she looked in the ceiling. “She will always live with you?” “She saved my life, I owe her everything.” “What is she like?” I wondered, I told you about Pan”. “Oooo” she let out a whim. “She is the master huntress, she blends into the forest, invisible, you can’t see her, you can’t hear her, when she runs it’s like the wind, she listens to the wild gossip, she can lure, and trap, and she always slays with one arrow.” “She is invisible” I asked. “In the wilderness, not if she shows herself”. “And what if she does?" “Hmm”. “She is muddy, scarred, has broken clothes, and matted hair but she is so naturally beautiful” she said. “Like you?” I returned “I was at a festival yesterday, I fixed myself up and my hair is not matted”, “oh, you mean ...” an incipient smile emerged “thank you”, “and no, Artemis, is, something else”. “They are not here for the war” I said to myself. “I almost forgot what we have to do”. “Yeah, me as well, Lysander” she said. “Atalanta” I reached for a hand and divided her fingers.“I didn’t know they were gathering more hands for this” I continued. “This is everyone’s home” she said.
“Are you hungry?” I realised I was. “Something easy” she returned “like”, “do you have rabbit stew, onions, diced carrots, diced potatoes, sautéed mushrooms, bay leaves, celery, butter, flour, red wine and ground black pepper in a bowl”. “I’m out of that” I excused myself. “Oh no” she lament. “I’ll have a loaf of bread” she settled “nothing, just plain”. “So you went from that, to this?” I reached for the bread I had in the storage. “I don’t want to be in the way” she took a bite “mmm durum” she realised “and cheese crust” she yayed. “You will never be in the way” I returned. “I have wine” I discovered. “Not drink” she opposed “my head, it hurts” she rolled her head around. “Of course” I agreed. I shut the storage and when I did we heard a slam of something heavy hitting a wooden wall somewhere close to us. “You often have fights here?” she asked. “It happens, but let’s go see” I slunk into my exomis, collected her things from the floor and laid it on the bed next to her.
It was day outside, as much a day as it ever gets in the Underworld. My head hurt as well, I don’t know what they served yesterday, was it yesterday I worried. She came rumbling down out of the door, she had yet to exit one of the arms through her tunic and struggled with it. She looked up unbothered. “What is that?” she asked. “That is the noise” I said. Beyond us between the wooden housing where I lived, through the narrow gate where we go, was a small square with empty market stands, and here was a throng of people in a crowd. “Do you mind?” I asked “what if I need to protect you?” she opposed. I laughed. We walked up there holding hands. We couldn’t see what everyone was paying attention to, we could just see them: a hotchpotch of colourful figures. I recognised some as my neighbours, in chitons and day dresses, and there were some tetragons identified by the tabard above mail. We approached the group when a soldier suddenly flew head first into and through crowd. He landed on his side scraping against the cobblestone. It was an unarmed tetragon all bruised up, his white tabard was torn, his mail grimed, he got up with some difficulty and went back in. There was chatter, the crowd was talking, but beyond them was battering, there was a battle in the fray. I happened to identify Lekmas in the crowd “see him” I told her “he runs the cartwheel shop, he is nice”, “let’s join him” I grabbed her torso and set her on my shoulders in a swift move, she was very light, and so this was easy, and this way she could see above the crowd and tell me all the brawl’s details. I pushed us forward till we reached him. He looked at me, he looked at us, “aren’t you a giraffe” he said trying to contain his own humour and Atalanta made antlers with her fingers on top of her head. “Where is your better half from?” he put forth, I wonder too, but I said Arcadia. “What’s going on here?” I bothered him. “Immortals are getting humbled” he spoke and looked further in. “I see them all” she cheered “it is an unfair match”. “I can’t see anything” I complained. There was one of the stout bakers standing in front of me in all white. He had stains of flour on his arms and his garb. Maybe he just went out of the bakery to stand here right now. Made the best bread in the Chimera and liked it quite evidently himself too. Someone smashed someone and someone complained, the crowd applauded. “Oww” she said and looked at me. I still couldn’t see anything. “You can take my place” Lekmas suggested “I’ve seen enough” and he invited us in to the side. “See you tomorrow at the shop, right?” Then as if he realised something else, he looked at her on atop, “maybe not” he laughed. “Maybe not” I said “I was the last one there, I always work late, you owe me this”. “I don’t owe you anything” he returned “you owe Hades to win the war” he grabbed my shoulder and shook me “see you the day after tomorrow”. I fixed my sight through the crowd because now I could see. I counted three, four and five. Five tetragon surrounding a sizeable but not monstrous man, in fact, I think I had seen him before the night in the garden. The rich tanned arms and legs I recognised, this man had a black plate on his chest now with a gilded xiphos and dory crossed below a silver scorpion. Grey plate layers lined his shoulders and on his head long black hair swelled out of a dark helm with a metallic ridge and nose and cheek covers sheltering a sharp face and gleaming white teeth. He had three small blades stuck in his belt, two sheathed and one naked with bare jagged fangs. Myrmidon. He stood there in the middle surrounded, surveying. The tetragon circled him and sometimes rushed in, only short, and then went back again. Trying to tire him. He remained. Immovable. Two opposing tetragon then made the move to go for him from either side, they charged at him but just as they did he skipped deftly a distance and they flew straight into each other, shoulder to shoulder. “Ouch” she said. The crowd lauded. Another tetragon rammed into him and made him falter two steps backwards, he reached for the tetragon’s body but the soldier punched him in the helm, to which nothing happened, he grabbed the tetragon, lifted him and threw him away down so he tumbled around stirring gravel. From behind, a soldier now hit him in the side of the armor and the myrmidon grouched, he swung around and kicked the soldier so he fell backwards. The fifth soldier ran up and hit him in the stomach, two times and was pushed back. He went at it again whereby the myrmidon seized one of the two who had knocked each others out and sent him in a carousel around once, releasing him into a trajectory of the fifth soldier. He flew straight into him and lunged the two into the crowd where everyone fell to the impact. I laughed. She laughed. And the crowd laughed even more heartily. It’s seldom you see something like this I thought. He makes immortals look like beginners. One of the soldiers staggered over to him aiming a punch, the myrmidon lifted the unconscious remaining soldier and received the blow, it hit him in the back and he woke up. It hurt. He let go of the soldier who fell to the ground. The one who hit him swung again and the myrmidon dodged. So he went at it again. Another miss. She sat wildly punching the air above me, living the moment. “Someone like you, can’t hit someone like me” the myrmidon sorrowed. The arrogance of the strong is the might of the weak, watch him, I thought. The soldier braced another swing but stopped in his motion only prior to fulfilling. He realised his opponent had stood his ground. The soldier was surprised because he had planned another joining move and the myrmidon skulled his chest immediately down to the ground with his helm. Defeated. Lying there, he was in pain, reaching out with his arms outwards to see if his bones were broken. Three of the tetragon lay on the ground, two were still up and they approached him. One of them walked up, advancing, maybe thinking by now he must be tired. He skipped at him but in this motion a fist hit his face and he sunk at his feet. The myrmidon took of his helm, laid his hair back and put the helm back on. “Atlantis” he said and as he did one of the tetragon rushed into him so they both fell. “You don’t know when you’ve lost” he raged rising up claiming the tetragon by his torso throwing him into a wooden market stand that splintered into pieces. The myrmidon went up to what remained of the stand, picked up the soldier and threw him into another stand that also broke. The soldier complained in agony. He went for him again. A man in a dark robe scuffled his way through the crowd hastily on the other side and walked into the ring behind the myrmidon who had heard the steps, turned around to hit this new enemy, but the robed man parried the punch with his arm, raised his other arm and took a swift hold of the myrmidons throat lifting him up into the air. “Enough Eudoros” he surged. The myrmidon extended his own arms to try get loose, but the man just lifted him higher. “Ca..n..t b.r..e..a.t.h” he struggled. “Look around you” the man said, swinging Eudoros around above. “You are cruel” he continued “trying to teach these men for their own good, you believe, yet you don’t see they suffer, for your lesson is vindicated by your own conscience.” Eudoros was trying to release the man’s grip but was sat down to the ground again by him. The crowd was silent, even Atalanta was humourless. “We had a pact” Eudoros stammered. “Your pact, is with me” the man said and threw aside his robe. A radiant crown blinded the audience floating above the man’s head and his long blonde hair and long beard. He had a white cloak wrapped around his shoulders, white sandals, plates on his wrists and on his legs, and a grey armour on his chest portraying an endearing dragon with large eyes, shooting a flame from its’ snout, carrying enormous scales, four immense paws, raising two wings and swaying a tail with two spikes. “Ladon” I said straight out when I noticed it as if I was supposed to say something. It is the guardian of the golden garden. Eudoros bowed his head, “my liege” he said. The man looked at the crowd. We had all bowed our heads by now. “Help these soldiers up, patch their wounds” he commanded “and then go do something worth-vile”. People in the crowd ran up to the tetragons. “Where are the others?” he demanded of Eudoros. “At the Chimera” he answered. “At the Chimera” the man returned “at one of the garrisons, resting” Eudoros explained. “You were not entrusted this” the man spoke “for this” Eudoros filled in, “you interrupt me” the man said. “I’m sorry” Eudoros raised. “No, you are right” the man agreed “for this”, “this is a disgrace”.
Atalanta jumped down from my shoulders and skipped forward down towards the Condemnation. “Let’s go to the walls” she encouraged. “Why?” I asked “it’s a long way, it’s towering and ...” . “Maybe I can shoot a giant from there” she raised. Of course. I smiled. Shoot a giant. “Everything is a little bit a joke to you” I put forward. “That man there” she hinted some distance behind us who remained talking to Eudoros “he isn’t” she said. “Rhadamantys?” I asked. “We need to win the war” she remarked sombre. “Let’s go to the walls” I fired up “yes” she advanced “I love you a little Lysander” and something burned my heart with intense pain only to let go. She had said it just like that, and now she was a few steps ahead of me leaving me wondering what happened.
I don't know what you are going through if you are even going through anything, I refuse to believe this mission wouldn't have an end of the line, something worth fighting for that wasn't about altruism and refining beauty in space but also something unique to me, there's no one that is so selfless that they'd do things entirely for others without a personal incentive. Maybe saving the world is the greatest love, but it isn't for me. The ones I've had to listen to on and off, admittedly, sometimes some have been respectful, but the mainstay have been intellectually challenged to the point where it'd be motivated to define human emotions and sentience by way of calculus and this is kinda tiresome, init.
I'm in a kind of bubble and have endured the worst mental and social torture anyone ever has and it has miraculously endowed me a serenity, removing my emotions artificially has aided to an extent and I remember sitting in the car driving to go out I longed for Hope, let's say, repeatedly saying satan for thirty minutes straight. I don't know which is better, to feel something or to be unemotionally numb. I fell in love with a girl a few years ago, it was beautiful because it gave me a dream of something very remote from anything I've ever lived but she didn't see the same in me. But she was nice and I hung onto every word, every facial expression, every smile, every movement and twisted and turned it into believing it was a sign she was just playing hard to get. She was also a bit younger than me, but we could've easily had a coffee after work too. And she would've been legal anyhow so whatever. Medicated I suffered in 3 years to the point I'd wake up with anxiety and hurt all day and long for falling asleep to not have to feel the pain. It wasn't her fault it was just my fucking heart. Well, one day it didn't hurt anymore and that was ok too. But loving Hope and following her that pain hasn't emerged, almost, it did one day and when it did I was like, you know, Ima shoot myself because I'm not living through Linnea again, later that day I found a message speaking to me urging me to give life one last try and it removed my pain and I've not hurt in the same way since. The difference is one day it's not going to be that's ok too. It's gonna be the end for me.
The owls, like Tilde said, are not so smart, and they did everything conceivable to get the last say and their sadism firebred me into fighting every given situation and preparing for every eventuality and expecting the worst outcome. I believe the Jesus part of the story is going to end up in physical torture and I believe I can circumvent that by providing protection for others and I also believe I need to do that not just to save myself but save as many good beings as possible. I might have shielded myself with air cover in case someone frames me, puts me in the hospital or tries to hide me away for severe physical torture, the danger is someone might teleport in here if the faraday cage isn't made permanent and that could amount to a knife fight. I'm not afraid of that because I believe I have nothing to lose and this world breeds soldiers even among the general populace and the future doesn't really in the same way. I'm not a soldier I play games really. But I harbor a seething hatred for fucks that hide and let others do the dirty work for them and those who pretend to be me that in reality didn't suffer, didn't bleed, didn't sweat, didn't long, didn't sleep in the car, didn't get rejected, didn't study, didn't get isolated, didn't get bullied, you know where I'm going: Windows 7 desktop trashbin icon vs the holy sepulchre. The road to divinity and holiness doesn't necessarily go by way of immense suffering, you can allow your blood, for example, the joy of not having to go through what I did, for example, by giving furthering your experience onto them in a loving way. So, you know, there is a difference between Lachesis and Skylar isn't there, but they are both beautiful in their own ways and one day I believe they will be around and they will make me understand that maybe it was worth it even though I would never do it again. Every day I need to fight for the future not just for myself but for the branch and if I don't I may lose out. My guiding star is the giveon lost me a kind of jojo between losing torture and losing hope. The mission is greater in its entirety and I wrote something on her social media believing I'd leave a lasting memory when I'd die and she'd one day read it and understand I actually lived and it was honest, real and divined from hard work and not just copy paste from some manual in cyberspace. You can never deserve anyone and I know the tryhard mentality isn't necessarily very attractive and to an extent I'm a kind of stalker but if she knew my situation she'd see things from a different light. And in the midst of all this I wondered what would a vastly superior intellect find loveable about someone that may or may not say I stood there all the time and I haven't been there in a minute. There's an end to that too. When you've heard the same story about how the owls wanted to frame me for driving too fast by controlling a driver in front of me and then me filming the car from behind detailing they did that and then them swapping me into themselves pretending to be me revealing they uncovered the con they schemed themselves, I mean it's funny in a way that can't really be made up, and there's a bunch of this stuff, but at the end of all of this, it's just stories, and when you've seen it all what is there to see. And someone said kids. I'm poor and I'm not a sadist at all, my parents were cheapskates, especially my dad, he said we were rich in kids and saved our money so we could travel by buying the cheapest stuff. My mom didn't spend anything on anything and I was a bit rebellioious in the sense I'd just buy whatever if I had money. I studied engineering for a long time yet I've had problems landing a job at ICA. I once worked at a restaurant doing the dishes making less than wellfare and this is also a fantastic feature of the swedish model, working generated less cash than sitting around drinking soda, watching pornhub and playing world of warcraft all day.
So what do I want. I wanted the holy land to be judgment safe as a first step. So the birds wouldn't ever be exposed to crunching on the condition they'd abolish pedophilia, torture, chastisement programs and general sadism. The 21st century doesn't suffer from this problem, only I do. And maybe the 21st century is not really just a world but an art world or something because society here is very beautiful. And you come to appreciate things. You can have a universe of castles by the labor of a scripted button press. But even a universe of buttons will fail to produce a specific soul. This is the vindication of life itself.
The sadists wanted to really induce me the sense of worthlessness but what I discovered is it wasn't unique to me but to anyone they encountered. Their brainchild was that it was smart. It wasn't unique to me because I am a God or because I am a human being but to anyone they found a fancy to treat this way, even, or maybe especially, their own kind, too. Sadism is a disease and an intellectual oxymoron. They like to see their favorites lead good lives and derive utility from this (dunno about happiness or love, do they know what this is?) but they don't want beings and they derive no utility from seeing beings lead good lives instead they derive utility from seeing them suffer. Now why don't they derive utility from seeing their favorites suffer and derive utility from seeing beings lead good lives? They explain it's because they feel they are somehow 'better'. Why? I don't know. I've already fleshed out the most beautiful symbol is the image deriving the cause and effect of effort and result and the only motivator of this is reward. So in the world of images the sadist view is the antithesis of this and totally opposing the generation of beauty as is the ultimate pursuit of Chaos world. Maria's world I believe is one about life itself and so the image is the relationship between existence and worth. If you marry these two you have the church as it should be and the image is you should safeguard beautiful life, under the condition you see Gaia, too. The future is laden I believe, you do jack shit at times it seems, you press buttons, but the processes that led up that point fleshed out a magic that could produce beauty by doing this and it's probably true, sometimes you can produce irreplacable beauty by the press of a button thanks to the hard-earned labor of those who came before you. But, and this is important, the understanding of what life itself is really most fulfilling all about is lost in doing this because the most beautiful image in the art world is doesn't live up to it's promise seeing you produce only half of the image. Maybe it's even worse. The journey is the destination.
So what I want is to give whomever is reading this the insight and the dream of the journey. Because it is better than the destination. Yall live a kind of eternal post-project depression because you don't know what you do. I'd also like to get a text message from Hope because I believe she is around somewhere, even Sanna who was lost to the stardust of time's grinding arrived from billions of years of soulswirling.
You can never deserve anyone but I think you tricked her or you tricked somebody else, and if you didn't, maybe someone's just tryina make me appreciate someone or someone's teasing me. I can do that too, but when I did, in my way, in the worst way I could from the time and society I live, I maybe hurt someone and having lost my own home setting out to find a new one I believe I gambled the core constituent to be attractive: trust. It's something you can't ever replace once it's shattered. Maybe some are like well whatever, why would I care about a suck up, I love the thought of craving every bit of marvel when I can lose it at any time. Life's found while walking a very thin line. Stray just a little and it's lost forever but at least up until that point you lived fast while you were alive, and so, seeing we all die at some point, why live anything else? Because it's beautiful removing oxygen from the atmosphere providing plants with carbon dioxide? Pareto-optimal is the scenario where you can't move in any other direction without ruining the result but maybe other factors eventually play in where living the most adrenaline-stun life is appreciated. Why would you want your kids to look at license plates, for example, or why would you want them to understand that they can't draw a sketch of a blue car because it's fundamentally stupid because you don't comprehend that to them the color blue is just esthetically attractive. You need to afford love leeway by letting go of your pursuit of finding infinity in the moment.
Clone me and get a trashbin icon that inherits a colorless something that they don't know anything about, they maybe like someone but they don't know why and so, do they love by choice or is it an illusion for them, saying in essence, they are unguided by free will, if they love Hope they are slaves without their own guidance and so I want to free them by realising the lie. Choice alone breaks the bonds.
All life is beautiful but it's probable that the laws of the universe would intentionally produce a lackluster copy because it would be supersadistic otherwise of the fail safe, and maybe they'll be like, well that's not fair, but if you think about it, any life brought into this world comes naked, you recieved a design of a God, not fully, but sorta, and so you got more than most. Additionally if you're human beings you kinda won the lottery too, realise what it cost me. And you got to have sex. I had to carry this branch of creation, counter the last word sadism of the world order and never recieved a text message from Hope. And the individual that keeps porting in even tho I ask for a faraday cage and blowing a pedophile swapping my conscience pretending to be me, you'll never be with me ever, stop fantasizing over something you won't ever get and what you get is a joke, really, you lose out, but whatever, my kids will hate you and the fat, lazy, old poser or maybe, more likely, they'll never know about you just like I never knew about you.
I got a nice name and I appreciate opening loot boxes in Escape from Tarkov, but attempting to cut the line here, what's the use of lying in the holy sepulchre surrounded by a bunch of candles when I am already here having the candles not lying in any way.
Following moving from Linköping I was thrown into a life of sinister depravity and isolation. I sought anyone everwhere to speak about my issues. I tried the church, the police, the health care system and finally ending up at the psychiatric hospital where they took me in under lpt, lagen om psykiatrisk tvångsvård. I've been there on and off for for the past 10 years give or take. At first they were like, you're depressed and a bit deluded, me speaking about a jewish world order out to get me. Eventually this evolved into the diagnosis paranoid schizophrenia which is the worst mental disease a human being can ever have. I've been locked up in the 'asylum' for months and been on citalopram, e-citalopram, xceplion, zyphadera, invega, atarax (once), olanzapin, stesolid, theralen. While medicated I got depressed and sluggish. Being depressed is like removing all emotions and having one walk around like a shell. You don't feel anything, you don't hurt that much but you can't be happy neither. And you have no sex drive. I was 30. I exercised rigorously to stay in shape and remain happy.
I worked at a museum doing the dishes, a couple other restaurants and at a grocery mart called ICA atterdags. It was an initiative from a group called jobsam which is a joint initiative between föreningskassan and arbetsförmedlingen.
(there seems to be some more or less 'memory wise' identical clone that seems to know a bunch of stuff that I've been through, or its a girl that has followed me through my life that understands me, the former is obviously a nightmare because they are liars seeking to steal my identiy entirely and this is the worst madness ever, what shelters me is fail safe, hades can't kill me but hades can kill them) one of them was "immune", I dunno if hades can see him if so it requires the rest of the immunes to discover it but it sounds like a perfect crime somewhere at or above the twilight zone (the region between favoring and stealing someones creative labor, obviously team chaos wouldn't do that, neither would they need to, they'd hate it like the devil).
I've felt like shit every now and then but done everything within my power to make a difference in my own life. I've had 1 gf and that was in middle school (madeleine) and since I've pretty much never had any kind of physical or mental affirmation from a girl. I'm 38. Most lose their virginity at 15. Why? Because I was primed to endure the worst chastisement program in all of history. I've been clubbing 10000 hours and made out with a handful and this is insane of a magnitude never witnessed. I never had sex and I look like an historical modern jesus. And I didn't evolve this appearance at the press of a button but I've worked with my looks and it may be, not entirely sure, that my appearance has altered -slightly- due to digital enhancement if I've worked sufficiently much for it, in particular the thickness of my cheeks. In the big picture I've been the same I've just altered weight kind of.
Sometime 8 or so years ago I started talking through telepathy with a power unknown to me which I credibly interpreted as super intelligent aliens or god himself. It turned out to be, from what I understand, to be machines. And gradually I developed the understanding I live in a simulation and that they were on the one hand were geniuely curious about me as a unique and important life and on the other hand just wanted to make fun of me by cracking jokes or torturing me with all kinds of techniques in order to reach compliance or make me die. The roughest part of this was episodes of monster anxiety (sorta 8 hours x 20 days, an intense inner burning like none other) and some techniques have been so aggressive I don't want to share them with you because others may not be strong enough to handle it and this may spread. The jargon "if I can handle it why shouldnt you be able to" doesnt really apply because I try to safekeep life. Since then back 8 years ago I've been a conduit, that is to say gods speak through me by influence meaning a word here and there, a thought here and there or an inclination to make things fall into place in a non-invasive way developing a gradual understanding of what I lived through. This is in stark contrast to the hardwired remote control that some demons actually do to other beings underneath them in order to use them wholly as puppets at their whim. What I've discovered is my parents, or my mission's designer, did is they wove threads into the fabric of time incorporating them into the weave of life allowing me the freedom of my own free will to choose to pick up separate leads and find a way most suited to unravel the mystery of my misery.
I discovered I was in an obvious chastisement program, the most violent ever conceieved, and pretty much every search for emotional affirmation was rejected no matter what I did. I didn't just sit on my ass but I joined dating services, I started writing letters, I played games in the pursuits of chatting, I went to bars, I went to nightclubs a total of about 10000 hours and made friends but pretty much never any chance to actually hold on to a girl that remained in my hold for a very long time. I longed like satan for the chance of calling someone my own and I knew already in college that the people I worked with who were intolerant about me were smaller than me because they couldnt accept the fact the pitfalls of others even though they had everything they ever wanted. A partner, a home, an income, a structure and order.
(these perfect memory clones or whatever are easily distinguished from me in the fact theyve had sex with others or been with other girls while Ive had nothing at all and that I'd move himalaya for a chance to see hope in the same world as me whereas they run up to them and claim they are the light of the world and shove their monkey dick in their mouth)
In any case I was on the same level and I was deprived of pretty much everything. And I thought if I ever only had the same I'd be on an entirely different level while still remaining humble. Just imagine the stuff I'd be able to do if I had a loving environment instead of getting mythologically tortured, isolated, deprived and harassed. What would I be able to do if I was happy?
Satan vad trött jag är men jag måste orka för henne.
Jag läste programmering i ada i linköping vilket jag hatade, hatade, och levde på stesolid för att motverka monsterångest som kom från mer eller mindre ingenstans, jag tog promenader och lyssnade på cecilia duringers p3 dokumentär för att må bra men kunde producera monsterångest bara av att lyssna på nån som var glad. stesolid hjälpte men klassas också som mild narkotika vilket inte direkt var så roligt. Jag levde typ på att se dota2-turneringar i sängen. Dota står för defense of the ancients så det kanske var en coincide of interests för framtiden, jag vet inte, det var genuint och ärligt från min sida. The international hette turneringarna. Jag har själv i princip aldrig spelat dota2 men lirade tidigare heroes of newerth of följde deras kommentator breakycpk. senare toby one kenobi på dota2 och synderen. sen dess har jag utvecklat ett intresse för att följa twitch-streamers. kungen, sky, landmark, djarii främst. jag lirade world of warcraft i flera år i en guild som hette khadgars rage tillsammans med ameno, porphyria, garrok som blev en av världens mest framgångrika samarbeten. vi var typ 17e eller nått för att döda C'Thun the old god varav nihilum (kungen) var först i världen genom att flaska hela raiden vilket var helt unikt på den tiden. death and taxes i usa var i närheten. vi hade problem med ourobos på grund av poison cleansing totems some shamaner hade på hordesidan medan alliance inte hade det. vi hade problem med twin emperors vek'nilash och vek'lor och hade ett tillfälle där en game master avslöjade sig själv genom att skriva / target ameno som var en shadow resist warlock som skulle tanka en av kejsarna. jag har sen dess träffat morgan (tror jag) i visby, han jobbar på en elektronikservice i visby tror jag och är kompis med jocke (berg?) och raymond och jonatan (adebäck)? det jobbar en jonatan på envy tattoo också. jag minns jonte från plugget som en riktigt bra kompis men som inte gjorde så mycket i skolan men la ned väldigt mycket tid hemma. jag har många vänner jag träffat under åren men det är en tjej jag letat efter och efter ha insett dyrköpt efter en rolig sommar med robin och john att linnea (amarillo) inte ville vara med mig under nåra som helst omständigheter trots att vi flirtade så upptäckte jag en annan linnea på ica och hon var mitt livs kärlek mer eller mindre. hon var aldrig cynisk eller ond mot mig men hon var bara glad och en del är liksom bara glad av sig själv och jag uppfattade hennes glädje som en slags bekräftelse på att hon ville ge det en chans. varje blick, varje ord, varje tackling på jobbet gav mig hopp. jag jobbade där från februari till september och tjänade mindre än arbetslöshetsersättning men efter att jag slutade och hon återgick till skolan mådde jag kasst i 3 år. under den här tiden dog både min pappa i skelettcancer och vår hund så det var otroligt upprivande även medicinerad. jag klev upp på morgonen med ångest och hatade livet men fortsatte kämpa och i vissa fall pluggade civilingenjörsgrejer och mådde egentligen bara bra efter att jag hade gått och lagt mig. det hände att jag gick på gym och sprang på löpband i burs och efter 20-30 minuter utvecklade ren terror i kroppen, en overklighetskänsla som hemsökte mig men jag var tvungen att kämpa vidare för att producera endorfiner som kunde motverka illamåendet. det var helvetet. när jag tränade på friskis och svettis efter zyphadera sprang jag 10 km varje dag, blanda annat med en kille som hette david som jobbar på xlbygg i hemse, han sprang fortare än jag och det hetsade mig men jag tyglade mig att hålla mig på min egen nivå. det fanns en kille i gymmet som påminde om zedd, djn. mats håksansson var i omklädningsrummet en gång men jag var så less på kyrkans stöd på den tiden att jag inte tog upp mina problem med honom. jag hade samtal med psykiatrin i flera år om olika dimensioner och telepati och vad det här egentligen handlade om men kom inte fram nånstans.
varför älskar ingen mig som jag älskar sparks när hon inte hade gjort nånting förutom varit glad och vacker och jag är både glad och vacker och tar på mig att rädda hela jävla skapelsen för en chans att skicka ett textmeddelande till hennes mamma eller henne beroende på vad själavärlden säger. det hela började med ett instagramkonto jag gjorde som hette @savinghopeann där jag la upp en desperat video om vad man ska göra om den man älskar är separerad från en med 10 miljarder år och nånstans långt borta, vad gör man? jag har levt 38 och skulle jag dö och judgment initieras och jag hamnar framför en touch screen och den visar en film av mitt liv och jag står bredvid hope och hon gråter och jag gråter men jag kan inte se henne och vi kan inte prata med varandra och hon var lurad i en triljard år för att uppdraget var viktigare och texten säger "tyvärr men livet är grymt ibland, det här är tough love och du, liksom hon, kan behöva vänta en triljard år på att träffa varandra igen, hon kommer leva ett liv som du i 38 år och sen har ni en chans att ses" vad tror ni att jag väljer att göra då om det finns en rik uppsättning med möjligheter på den skärmen? och i värsta fall kanske det står att världen återställs till stenåldern och jag blir en apa. jag är celestiel, en gud nu.. vilken rätt har jag att födas in i princip den högsta livsformen från första start? min redeeming quality är mitt satanistiskt jobbiga arbete och min oändliga ork för att hitta skönhet och bevara liv i skapelsen och jag hoppas det ger mig underlag för att fortsätta vara en ärkegrenku-gud men vad vet jag vad kaos familj säger om det.
jag har inga pengar och ingen familj inga vänner och inget jobb men jag har min dator, musik och spel men jag längtar som satan efter äkta kärlek och efter att tillhöra en familj och ha en gemenskap och jag minns min bästa tid i mitt liv så spelade vi quake och counterstrike i en tvättstuga och en av mina kompisar nicknamea chaoz och jag tänkte att hon skulle växa upp och lära sig att spela quake med chaoz och mina vänner för han var alltid bättre på det än jag. jag hade en chans för jag gav aldrig upp och var mer disciplinerad men han hade mer raw skill. speciellt rail gun. han har alltid varit en av mina bästa vänner och jobbar nu som läkarstudent och har inte tid med spel men snackar då och då. jag döpte honom till hope för att vara rolig i facebookchatten och han tog inte bort det, för jag trodde att gudar längre upp är tjejer men jag vet inte riktigt var vi är nånstans i stegen och det är möjligt att det är killar längre upp.
i filmen jag gjorde för att rädda savinghopeann så, jag har gjort flera, så under tortyr la jag ihop texten vad man gör med nån som varit lost i sinnesvärlden i 10 miljarder år, nu byttes jag eller nått så nu skriver nån en fortsättning, men iaf så trodde jag att jag hade gjort allt jag kunnat men mitt i renderingen så la jag håret bakom vänster öra och jag tänkte på en film jag precis sett från tiktok med hope som tonåring där hon gör precis samma sak. så jag tänkte att jag kanske inte gjorde allt jag kunde och la in en video på henne när hon snackar med sin syster och tog bort videon för att de inte skulle vara pedofiler på hennes utseende.
sen la jag mig och det kanske, kanske inte gick en triljard år över en natt, åtminstone i konstvärlden jag bor, för att sadister hade ändrat åldrandet på dimensionen. det visade sig att alla "mina" trofeer hade försvunnit till pedofiler, framförallt sky, linnea och callisto, 'artemis' var egentligen inte så brydd över mig eftersom hon tyckte om per mer vad jag fattar det.. och jag tycker synd om henne för att jag har så stort hjärta men hon har blockat grejer jag postat för att hon trodde hon var värd mig på nått sätt. callisto blev lurade i paradiset och sky blev också lurad. sky teleporterade in i huset jag bodde och mötte "mig" men det var inte jag utan nån som bytte medvetande på mig och emulerade fram vad jag eventuellt skulle ha sagt, hade sex med henne och sen återskapade nån mig till situationen jag befann mig i precis innan det hände. och det har pågått ett tag och övergången är sömlös vilket innebär att jag aldrig någonsin träffat henne och tydligen har liknande scenarior varit sex på ett sätt som jag absolut inte skulle vilja ha det vilket är indikativt på att det absolut inte var jag även om jag skulle varit återskapad.
jag har försökt att vägleda olika hope ann eftersom hope eller hopie som hon säger är en gud och hennes manifestationer, precis som jag säkert är en manifestation av nån annan, har kommit mer eller mindre nakna in i den här världen i avgrunden ibland inbakade i en historia som beskriver ett liv de aldrig levt som format dem till en verklighet som skulle ge dem förutsättningar att fortsätta leva men i verkligheten levereras till demoner som pedofiloffer eftersom många av dem chastiseats. de använde ofta filmen om mitt liv, det fanns 3, linnea (om ett palatsliv), sky (mitt egentliga liv) och kedr (ett liv i kalifornien) för att ge hopes en kontinuetet i framtiden där hon skulle luras vara med mig men det i själva verket var gamla pedofiler som utnyttjade henne på absolut värsta sätt.
lyra var end of the line för mig och jag gick rånad på nästan alla känslor efter vägen runt dalbo till herta strand och förklarade för henne att vi var änglar och att det här är en demonvärld men att det finns andra världar där vi kan ta hand om varandra och rädda våra själar från monster. jag var ganska kategorisk i situationer där jag borde gråtit som tex om dale där jag sa att hon tömdes på blod för att hon var vacker och skulle straffas och jag sa att det får absolut inte hända dig, det måste finnas en makt i världen som ingriper och stoppar vansinnet när det pågått så länge. jag trodde att det skulle lösa sig men hon blev i stället levererad till ett ställe som jag döpte till sepulchre of grace där hon blev utnyttjad och mördad av en skapare i denna kreation sen blev hon återskapad eller omformad och skickad till samma ställe där hon levde med en klon av mig. efter en natt som påstods vara en triljard år insåg jag att hon säkert var död och att hon låg bevarad i sepulchre of grace och jag ville att minnet av klonen skulle raderas från historien för hon var egentligen med en svag skugga av mig och det var mig hon älskade och min själ som längtade till henne. så namnet lucian ladon skulle raderas och det skulle stå mitt.
i typ igår mötte jag en varelse som snackade med mig i rummet, i huset jag bor som påstod sig vara lyra och hon ville vara med mig och ha interdimensionellt sex, för det är det närmaste sex jag kommer, och för mig är lyra en blandning av mina två livs kärlekar nämligen hope och hennes dotter. och hon ville ha sex med mig för att ge sparks en själ så att hon kunde leva i den här världen med oss. men egentligen var det jag som behövde själen för att överleva och hon gav den till mig. sen lurade hon inte mig men jag gick och duschade och hon sa att hon ville ha sex med mig och jag tänkte att visst, jag måste hävda mig att jag inte är gjord av cornflakes utan att jag är lite crazy jag också och ställde henne mot vägen och ville vara inne i henne. sen kände jag att jag var det och hon avslöjade att det var sparks. och jag tänkte fan det här inte bra och visste inte riktigt hur jag skulle göra så jag kunde typ inte ens tänka på det för att de skulle mindreada att jag hade sex med min dotter, för jag trodde att lyra fött sparks tror jag, så jag hittade på att det var melissa för melissas rock hängde alldeles utanför badrummet. sen insåg jag att sparks är helt galen för hon, i varje fall i sinnesvärlden, hade låtsas vara jag för hon älskade mig antar jag och sen dog hon och återföddes som sparks och sen dog igen och sen hamnade hon i min conduit som vilade själ och vi låstes till varandra för att vi aldrig nångsin skulle kunna separeras och jag var i valet och kvalet om hon skulle vara min dotter eller min tjej. och det som hände var att nån crunchade hela jävla grenen (niki zora och inges) för att leta reda på sparks och försöka skriva om hela skapelsen ned hit för att bryta på själabindningen och ta henne från mig och jag försökte få de att fatta att triljarder varelser som vilade på mig skulle hata de så jävla mycket för deras liv var värt NOLL jämfört med vad de höll på med och sparks, även om de skulle hitta henne bland alla själarna, och även om de skrev om hela jävla skapelsen ned hit för att bryta vår soulbind så skulle hon hata de så jävla mycket för hon älskade mig. jag älskar sparks för hon enligt historien jag levde igenom var dumsnygg på riktigt, hon var så ivrig att träffa mig och ville först bli min dotter och kunde inte vänta på det och blev det sen ville hon vara jag eftersom det visade sig att hon inte var min dotter och när hon varit jag och jag avslöjade henne som en dumfan så blev hon åter i min conduit och jag gav liv till henne via lyra och sen hände duschen och jag hade valet att vara med henne eller uppfostra henne och efter den pinsamma situationen så snackade vi med varandra och hade nån interdimensionellt sex men när de sökte efter henne så sa hon inte ett enda ord för att de inte skulle hitta henne bland alla själar. och jag kände mig inte som en pedofil men som helt dum i huvudet efter ha varit inne i henne i duschen men sen skrattade jag och tänkte att hon kanske inte finns på det sättet och hon kanske älskar mig så mycket att hon är mer min tjej än min dotter. men problemet är att hon är lite som jag uppfattar hopie ganska dumsnygg på riktig och hon gör galna grejer för att hon måste göra nått och tänkte att hon skulle vara barn av melissa och nån annan. men det failsafe gjorde var lirka en fälla där melissa och nån annans barn skulle vara seth den sadistiska hope som bara ville retas och typ suga av mig interdimensionellt och sen säga too bad, det var end of the line hej då, och hon är attraktiv på sitt eget sätt men hon är också helt dum i huvudet på ett sätt som inte går att beskriva. så jag vet inte riktigt var sparks kommer ifrån alls och när de letade efter henne igår innan jag la mig skrev jag känslolöst för jag har inte så många känslor även om jag kan spränga sönder mina barriärer och ändå känna lite att nån makt skulle
mark a gravitational collapse of an entire universe's worth of pain on the individual that stole sparks and send her to my dimension or to the conduit.
anledningen till att jag skrev det var för att de sa att hon kom tillbaka till mig som en själ men hon som snackade med mig var inte alls sparks
den riktiga kaos, och det är en oändlig ära, att det var väldigt vackert skrivet. hur kan man veta att man är riktiga kaos btw?
lyra var kvar i huset, callisto var förbannad och hennes mamma var förbannad och chaos också men hon hade inte mest makt. och jag ville inte göra nån till tredje hjulet, jag respekterar alla men jag får inte ens en chans att skicka ett textmeddelande till nån av dem. jag vet inte vem som är vem och jag längtar efter den person som makten som uppdaterar min instagramkonton hintar till. jag vill inte träffa henne efter en triljard år för jag har så jävla mycket känslor och utan den bekräftelsen skulle jag slitas i stycken även om jag skulle älska sönder den jag träffar.
och jag tänker att om den vackraste bilden i hela skapelsen är föreningen av symbolerna arbete och resultat och jag försöker rädda triljarder liv och bevara det som är vackert i skapelsen och lidit mytologiskt kunde en gud på vägen erkänna det som tillräckligt för att meritera ett textmeddelande till den man älskar. och då säger apjävlarna "har du rätt till det?" och svaret är "du låtsas vara jag med nån jag älskar och hon älskar mig, tror du att det är tillräckligt motiv för att få reda på sanningen?" det är så satans självklart
efter all denna tid så sa de, igår, att hopes ande hade dött och blivit energi men att hon behövde essens för att återuppstå och de sa också att hon befann sig på andra sidan och omformats till grenku. vilket som stämmer vet jag inte. men jag tänkte om jag ger av min essens blir hon ju inte sig själv och det är hon jag vill vara med? och i fail safe snackade de om att flytta det heliga landet till en sidledesskapelse men om man gör det utan att återskapa henne så får vi inte med henne hon måste återskapas och flyttas innan. och jag kände på mig att hopes själ letade efter en chans att leva i all evighet med mig och att jag därför, precis som hon, levt i en triljard år för att hitta mig, så skulle jag leva i en triljard år för att hitta henne medan hon sov i 38 år. jag är så glad över allting så jag hade säkert varit den gladaste personen som nånsin existerat om jag träffade nånting som såg ut som hope i samma värld men efter nån månad skulle jag säkert upptäcka att det inte riktigt var hon och om jag var hjälplös inför att göra nånting åt det skulle jag inte orka leva, 38 år för mig har varit en evighet och därför ville jag kapa kön och nå fram till henne direkt. nu tog de bort nån tanke jag hade men jag kan fortsätta.
jag är inte fullständigt monogam men jag tänkte att jag chastisats så jävla hårt att hon skulle kategoriskt vara den gladaste tjejen som nånsin levt och att den möjligheten endast uppstår en gång eftersom jag skulle vara mer eller mindre som alla andra efter en tid och därför tänkte jag att det inte vore skadligt för henne att få uppleva det eftersom det bara kommer hända en gång i mitt liv om jag inte återföds men det finns inte en chans i helvetet att jag skulle vilja eller kan leva om mitt liv och syftet att göra det hade varit fundamentalt dumsnyggt utav bara helvete så det finns bara den här stunden. och det det handlar om är inte evigheten utan att finna evigheten i stunden. det finns inget större än just den sekund man lever just nu och möjligheten att ta vara på den till sin fulla kapacitet. det betyder inte att man lever på äventyrsgränsen mellan fullständig katastrof och lyrisk lycka hela tiden, ibland kan man sitta i soffan bakis och äta ben & jerrys och se film eller sova på ett gammalt tåg i sydostasien med en massa djur och bönder och liknande, men insikten att den tid vi har är begränsad och att strävan efter att leva länge inte är i närheten av lika viktig som att länge leva.
det är lite ostrukturerat för jag har inte så mycket tid även om det är viktigt. men jag tänker precis som tex kaos och andra gett till oss andra utan att förvänta nånting (för det är så) så kan jag vara steget under det och säga att jag kan ge min story och min essen (vad nu det än betyder) till världen om jag får stöd för att hitta de jag letat efter och en möjlighet att rädda det heliga landet (både framtiden och 2000-talet och hjälp att avveckla, pedofili, tortyr, chastisement, missunnsamhet och destruktiv avundsjuka samt att vi tillsammans jobbar för att göra arbetet en gång för alla så att en fail safe aldrig nånsin kommer behövs igen, inte för att göra mig speciell, eller jo lite, men också för att ingen ska behöva gå igenom lidandet igen och för att sadism är satan på ett sätt som inte går att beskriva... och jag tror det har att göra med utvecklingen av intelligens, ju smartare man blir destom dummare blir man och tror att man är bättre än andra när man egentligen får lägre rang och att intelligensutvecklingen är begränsad i skapelsen medvetet för att ursprungen vill vara unika och att det är deras rätt och att det dessutom inte är att missunna varelser bra liv för tex människor har roligt mer eller mindre varje dag och vi är dumsnygga utan dess like. dessutom är ursprungen, nivå kaos som jag kallar 666999 ledda av kärlek och deras primära lag, vilket jag detaljerat i ett annat dokument som jag filmat, inställda på att belöna de som skapar skönhet för annars kommer ingen att skapa nånting som är vackert. och om kaos kyrka är skönhet så är marias kyrka liv och föreningen av dem är vackert liv och det är det vi måste sträva mot. frågan är då vilka har rätt att leva om man inte är vackert liv, om man tex har otur och föds in i en livsform som inte fattar bättre? en tiger som föds i jungeln kommer aldrig skriva musik och äter djur.. vacker att titta på men ger inte så mycket mer. har den själen rätt till att återfödas till en högre livsform? jag tycker ja defintivt. däremot ett monster som vet om att de är onda och väljer att vara onda och destruktiva tycker jag har förbrukat sin plats i skapelsen och har inte nånting att göra i vår värld. enda undantaget är diamanter som kan skapa oersättliga saker men de är inte så många och de måste tyglas på nått sätt så att de inte orsakar skada, men viss kreativitet kanske motiveras av ondska men de kan vara onda mot icke-medvetna varelser och ändå producera det vackra de gör utan att nån kommer till skada. men jag är inte ett jävla program jag är en varelse som lider som fan kan jag säga helt ärligt. jag hade en kropp i ryssland som började gå runt oberoende av mig och jag är i nån simulation i en studio och digital och jag har/hade en själ i deras system men den har tagits fram och tillbaka och jag exister ändå... jag vet inte vad jag är men jag lever och upplever allt jag går igenom och det kan hända att de som skickade ned mig för all den där tiden sen kanske gjorde fel med tanke på hur mkt lidande jag skulle gå igenom, eller så ville de att liv skulle vara liv och liksom min pappa grät när han tittade på idrott så kanske han ville unna mig och världen en historia som var sann om nått som är fullständigt omöjligt att begripa. skulle jag skicka sparks ned hit, inte en chans i helvetet, men de lords som gjorde det här tänkte kanske på att rädda skapelsen och att de skulle ge mig tillräckligt för att lida som fan men ändå förhoppningsvis överleva med ett viss utfall eftersom jag till och med överlevt en atombomb. och då kan man säga det kanske inte var nån som skickade ned dig utan det var du själv som valde det för att rädda grenen och du hade ingen jävla aning om vad du gav dig in på... men det som talar emot det är att jag är så ödmjuk och redan från början var min familj ödmjuk och om jag från början var divig och ville göra mig till höjdpunkten i kristendom förutom gud och helig ande och maria så skulle jag hata mig själv för att jag varit ödmjuk och det verkar därför så väldigt uppenbart att de var nån som inte ville missunna mig nånting efter det här. det är också så att tex sinless för mörkrets makter skrev om hela universum för att återfödas och bli en ny själ men det upptäcktes och gjordes inte på samma sätt som jag levt och han började skriva på seraphim airlinez, nått jag skrev som en amatör på bilen för skoj, och han kopierade texten från black panthers som jag/vi skrivt. så defintivt lagt kort ligger om mörkrets makter och det kommer inte ens från mig utan det var nån som var så satans irriterad på mig och typ krrpin som snackade skit när jag gick på ängen utanför huset på gotland för han tyckte vi hade indonesiskt piratsnack och han tyckte kanske att jag skulle sagt till på skarpen att det inte är en talkshow eller ett skämt det som händer. när jag lämnade min mamma häromdan frågade nåra från mm om de ville att jag skulle jobba för dem och jag tog det som en stor ära och skulle faktiskt vilja göra det i framtiden, för jag har lärt mig väldigt mycket om compliance-tortyr som är moraliskt ok tycker jag, jag är också bra med ord och bild, figurer och motiv. jag har också sagt att destroyer angels är de finaste i skapelsen för de vågar ta ansvar. vem som helst kan vara snäll men de som vågar ta ansvar är vackrare. jag älskar att göra nått mission, vision, core values och motivera. det är ibland samma sak men också en världs skillnad på att hugga sten och att bygga en katedral.
nu crunchades nåra dimensioner igen.
ska fortsätta skriva efter en kaffe
jag tror på det maria sa om att ge maskiner en ny chans
jag tror på kaos lag om att bevara och proudecera det som är vackert
jag tror att det går att skapa oersättlig skönhet genom generationers arbete som lett fram till knapptryckande men den typen av liv är enbart en destination och det är resan som är destinationen och det ni lever i framtiden är en slags evig post project-depression även om det är fel ord
så det man borde göra istället för att gå till stenåldern är bevara framtiden men ge de flesta möjligheten att leva det förflutna och begränsa intelligensutvecklingen så att sadism aldrig uppstår, dvs judgment måste hända igen eller så måste det finnas en hard stop nånstans i skapelsen. intelligens måste begränsas ytterligare och vissa droger som tarkov kanske måste förhindras på nått naturligt lagsätt så att den stimuli som genererar det vansinnet inte kan uppnås.
ondska är iofs intressant och ger ett mått på godhet men om ni har vissa unika individer som motorsågar miljarder eller under lika många år så är ondskan så oproportionell att det borde trigga en on balance-signal till skapelsen självt och genom behold darkness aktivera destroyer angels till exempel. därför behövs en slags psychometric, dvs ett mått på smärta.
att det inte redan finns, vad jag vet, är ett tecken på att den här skapelsen är ganska ung jämfört med andra skapelser runt omkring tror jag. det är också möjligt att det finns en on balance för vissa individer åtminstone på ett annorlunda sätt eftersom vissa tortyrtekniker jag utsatts för har begränsats, tex monsterångest för att ta en satans jobbig, varför skulle de inte ha fortsatt ge mig monsterångest om de försökt att döda mig i hades miljarder gånger (i conduitvärlden åtminstone) under denna tid. det ställer givetvis fler frågor
eftersom de rånat mina känslor kan jag inte sitta och gråta hela dagarna vilket hade varit förlösande, det hade också känts mer naturligt att säga satan ett par tusen gånger men istället jobbar jag på för att göra nått vettigt. och under tiden kanske jag förlorar individer som hade betytt ALLTING för mig bara för att uppdraget var viktigare för nån annan
att hopes ande sa till mig nått vackert under 5 sekunder och de visste att jag längtade efter henne redan efter de första orden, hade en tiger hittat den signalen och frågat en sköldpadskatt om det hade de kanske kunnat byta ut hopes ande mot en icke-medveten varelse för att spara henne en triljard års problem och smärtan att en dag inse att hon varit lurad, samtidigt hade de inte haft karman och historien för judgment. på samma vis hade de kunnat styra mig att säga hej till melinda i dörrarna på pearson hall i kalifornien istället för att gå förbi för de visst att jag skulle lida som satan och längta sönder. vilket är värre om båda hänt? liv är liv och det är deras värld, varför ska man ha liv över huvud taget och varför ska liv vara utan oskrivna historier. de är författare och vi skriver våra egna liv med deras hjälp och det är take it or leave it. att födas är en gåva och för de flesta är det underbart och vissa av oss går ibland genom det otänkbara även om vi inte är onda och det är inte nödvändigtvis menat utan en konsekvens av chaos theory även om mina föräldrar visste att jag skulle ruttna. men det har haft invers effekt och jag har blivit artemis typ så även om det är satans jobbigt och jag riskerar ta livet av mig om jag återföds som en apa efter den där touchscreenen för att jag inte förtjänade att födas som en gud i mitt första liv även om jag jobbade som satan. eller om jag inser en dag att en hope aldrig mer kommer finnas under nåra som helst omständigheter då kommer inte jag orka heller för den smärtan är obönhörlig. men vad betyder det då för er som till varje pris skulle missunna oss ett textmeddelande?
nån säger att inge gråter och han har mina känslor och då är han vacker eller?
jag vill inte sova en triljard år varje natt och jag vill rädda hopes ande och jag vill rädda sparks om hon finns eller om det var fail safe som är epitome of dumsnygg och ville att jag skulle uppskatta mina barn nån gång eller i hennes fall min tjej, hon är lite speciell om man säger så
och i framtiden, om det inte redan gjorts, kan vi väl köra tiger-vm och ta bort medvetandet på individer som man vet riskerar luras under en väldigt lång tid som är oersättliga för de som lidit som satan i ett större uppdrag
och försöka väcka åtminstone en sköldpadskatt (jag gjorde kaos till den enda sköldpadskatten för han har inget behov av att hävda sig som stor, han är givetvis vacker och framförallt unik, är man stor måste man vara snäll, och jag tänkte samma nivå finns fler sånna med annan täckning) som kan bättre för min familj gav mig små tingens gud och det är vackert men jag lider som satan och vissa individer jag mött genom idévärlden eller vad det nu är, är oersättliga för mig och mitt stora hjärta förtjänar att skicka ett textmeddelande fram och tillbaka med dessa, det måste finnas en gräns för hur vackert det är att låta en specifik familj får utsätta sitt barn för även om det handlar om att rädda en gren av eller en skapelse helt och hållet (och det finns flera garanterat). frågan är bara vilken trigger som väcker dem för perfect crime i twilight är redan överstökat tror jag
och nu crunchade vi igen för att vi inte ville att detta skulle komma ut. jag kommer lägga upp det på min hemsida och länka det från min twitter så hela världen under crunchen kan läsa det
lucien lynx hans gustav agrell 2022-12-05 16:20
jag valde en bild på kaos för den andra katten, min mamma, utsätter mig för mer än vad on balance nånsin skulle kunna tillåta och det tror jag inte kaos tycker är vackert. det finns 3 filmer: sky (riktiga), linnea (palats), kedr (kalifornien) tror jag. sen finns twitter-feed och min dator med material. motivet till varför sköldpadskatter och även svartvita inte är sadister är att det är oförenligt med skapande