ramblingsofavessel

[ramblingsofavessel]

This keeps him busy for the rest of the night.

[ramblingsofavessel]

I genuinely think there was no greater insight into the modern Christian mindset than when the Pope said he very much hoped Hell was empty and he was absolutely hounded by both Catholics and Protestants outraged at the idea of a man who wanted a place of infinite suffering to have nobody in it.

[ramblingsofavessel]

And this is exactly why they hate fact checking.

[ramblingsofavessel]

January 15, 2025

Sorry for the late post, I've been a bit busy. Well, not me, but, you know.

To follow up from yesterday, Matthew surprised me with a bag of convenience store food. People who aren't in my situation would probably scoff at the idea of getting this kind of gift, but frankly, I was ecstatic.

It has been 20 years since I have been able to taste this stuff. When you can only go out upon very scrutinized and chaperoned trips, you don't really think about places like convenience stores being an option. Why let me out for something so boring?

So while I suppose anyone reading this would rather hear about the more interesting parts of my life here, this post will be about me gushing about food. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it.

The first thing I spotted in the bag was a glass bottle of sprite. I had no idea they still made them in glass bottles, and honestly I struggled with getting the top off, until Matthew took it and opened it with ease. The taste was cool, refreshing. I don't get much soda down here, its better to eat healthy when confined to one spot, since you don't move around much, but this was a nice indulgence.

Then was an obnoxiously loud bag of peach rings, something he told me was his favorite that he wanted me to try. They were almost as bright as I remember such candies being, and the sugar crystals on top had a delightful and soft crunch when eating them. I can see why he likes them, while they may be made out of the most gut wrenching stuff possible, they were sweet and tasty. I ended up sharing some with him, I suppose even I am not immune to the puppy eyes of a full grown man. It doesn't help that he has beautiful brown eyes, truly the cards were stacked against me.

Third and lastly was a bag of crispy cheese crackers. It was at that point, eating them, that I got sad, all of a sudden. This stuff was just normal food, to others. However I was even thinking of saving the packaging, making them into something. Some proof I had contact with the outside world, as it is.

Maybe I should plan a trip up. I haven't asked in a while. But where would I go? Does anyone have any suggestions?

-Jane

[ramblingsofavessel]

January 14, 2025

Yes, I know its not been a full 24 hours since my last post, and frankly, I woke up, so to me it feels like a full day has passed. Not that anyone will read these, so to whom I'm making these excuses for is beyond me. Maybe just for myself.

I say I woke up, which implies I slept. However, as well rested as I feel mentally, physically I am fully aware that I was not, in fact, asleep. Marissa was awake, likely saving the world from aliens, or whatever fun things her security clearance allows that mine does not. I tell people I'm not, but perhaps I am a bit bitter that my sleeping self gets to go on universe saving adventures while all I get to do is take care of the body in an underground complex and complain on the internet.

I suppose if my clearance was higher and I knew more things, it would be harder for me to put everything in a blog, without getting a stern talking to from my keeper. Not that I'd complain, he is a very attractive man, in that comely sort of way. He has a soft face that still manages to crinkle when he smiles, which can be comforting, I guess. Certainly better than my previous handlers, who were elderly ex military men who I feel got bored at the job way too easily. I behave well enough, I know what happens if I don't. I don't think they'd be too happy if I explained further, though.

Now Matthew, my current caretaker, is quite better than the last I've had. He's the one who convinced me to do this, saying how it might be good for my mental health to get my feelings out. No one's ever truly cared for my mental health before, so it came a bit of a shock when he suggested this. Usually they just keep me from ending my life, and anything else doesn't matter that much. Sure I get whatever I want if I request it, but I guess this is the first time someone in real life has seen me as more than just a vessel for Marissa. It's quite nice, actually. If he wasn't being paid to take care of me I would almost feel butterflies over his care.

Perhaps I've just been alone too long. I have reached the age where those hired to watch me are no longer much older than I am myself. It was a lot easier to distance myself from the humans in charge when I was a spirited teenager and they my caretaker.

Matthew is... Around my age, I'd assume. No younger than thirty and no older than forty. Age has worn its way into his face, although, you could argue that that isn't that common for someone who is only thirty, but in this slice of the universe you tend to age much more rapidly, as the stress on your shoulders weighs heavy on your skin. Heck, I bet I'd be quite pretty if not for all the years of stress and attempts to extract Marissa hadn't worn scar after scar and sag after sag on my skin. If I were more vain I would put in a request for some cosmetic surgery, but who would see it? Matthew? If he is disgusted by my appearance he surely doesn't show it. Its refreshing to be around someone with such positive professionalism.

Comprehensive scanning and testing has revealed that Marissa inhabits the left hemisphere of my brain. She is not a creative being, whatever she is, so she has no use for the right side. Or so they theorize. Sometimes I tried leaving questions for her to answer, trying to have a conversation with her. She never responds. I don't think I matter much to her beyond her being able to use me when I sleep. As long as I maintain my health and sanity, I really don't think she cares one way whether I live or die.

There was a time in my late teens where they spent every effort possible trying to separate us. I heard that once they had gotten a scalpel next to my brain after cracking into my skull that I supposedly opened my eyes mid procedure, and shook my head.

They stopped trying after that, but only covered everything with an external metal plate, in case they wanted to get in there again. It's not the comfiest thing in the world, but its been over a decade since they last attempt, so I've gotten used to it. Polishing it and keeping it clean has just become another part of my daily routine.

Anyways, I've rambled enough for one day. I think. Matthew is on break, and said he was going to bring me back something nice from the place he gets lunch. He really doesn't need to, as there is a private chef hired for this complex for me and whoever else is unfortunate enough to call this place home. However, I can't say I'm not a bit excited for whatever he brings me, I can count on one hand the amount of gifts I've been given while living here. And no, gifts to Marissa do not count.

Well, talk to you later, whoever is reading this.

-Jane

[ramblingsofavessel]

January 14, 2025

So, I would label this as "day 1", but it really hasn't only been a day. I've been here, in this... Place, since I was 10 years old. Should have been there sooner, maybe then things wouldn't have... Okay, maybe spiraling into despair isn't the best way to immortalize my thoughts.

I am what you would call a vessel. There really isn't anything to argue that, I, me, I'm nothing special. I'm just... A girl, a normal girl. The weird part of myself, the reason I've been locked here and pampered and observed... That's not me. Not me at all. If she is me, since there's been debate on that, at the very least we don't share a memory.

She calls herself 'god'. She also calls herself Marissa. She calls me Jane, so despite that not being the name I was born with, that's what everyone calls me.

On my 10th birthday, Marissa predicted the apocalypse. Accurately, scary accurately. With her help, it was stopped. She's predicted more things since then, 14 more supposed end days and a few other world shifting events. They don't tell me much about that. Frankly, they don't tell me anything, and neither does she.

I suppose that is why I'm here, on this blog. Well, frankly it was due to my new caretaker, who said that it might be good to do this. For my self esteem. Frankly I don't think I need to, but he did say that with, well, sharing my body with a god prophet, that it might be nice to distinguish myself, leave some record of me existing. I can't say it's not a good idea, but I'm not sure what all I'll have to say.

I live in an underground complex, and haven't been above ground as myself in, well, years. I'm allowed to request an excursion, its not like I'm banned from going out, but after spending my teen years isolated here I really can't think of anything out there I'd want to do. I have the internet here, I'm not lonely.

Well, I suppose that's all I really have to say for today. Its about time for me to go to sleep, Marissa has a meeting with a couple world leaders later, they'd be very upset if they walked in and found me still here, and not her. I'll be back tomorrow, I guess. If anyone is reading this.

-Jane