#the carnage of the calamari family personality relativity

[vessare-osud-system]

When time reversed 30-40 days, back in October (RWBY would know AICO, SCP Foundation, and thus Webster soul isolation of demonic expectation or forgotten/cold experimentation with combined total loss of emotion or sensation due to previously dying but remaining in a confused limbo state of anxious routine)

due to first isolating my conscious time perception then limiting my allowed co-acknowledgement memory of those I live with, to family I let myself believe or feel are familiarly them despite it being a allocation, flashback, daydream akin to AICO containment cells beneath the labyrinth that the backrooms of wreck it Ralph followed. Total ignoring/deletion or argument of my parents with my acceptance of their lack of existence or conscious awareness related to the same perceptive lifetime I know to be the expectation of the glass maze; the fact to judge it delusional as a means to adjust their entitlement over my corpses memories locked behind their lost deactivated lifetimes, as well as my mutated acceptance that with all these memories there’s no way they’re not totally my parents whatsoever but also not denial of them being my familiars, or delicate for the function and flow of the home.

But more we are of the bewitched soul shards lost to the unfamiliar talos squid gain game, which is nothing but a memory poltergeist or a demon representative that allows perceived superiority over a sense of a bill reoccurrence despite total disregard or ignorance of it being entirely laughable after dying to charge a new Nyu Kaede or Elhaym Angel collective after dying. To just accepting we are the undead with entitlement towards positive memory and neutral interactions with total disregard and dissallowicayion of chore deadline household ultimatums lost from broken matrix deletion archives with torture reoccurrence from panic demon/creature cornering with the SCP FOUNDATION and curse forge archives—- the akaban leviathan demons that leech angels and souls into hell bats underneath emotional complexity, age chastity, with both supernatural dissonance and splintered ego projected entitled behaviors that are entirely out of reach of a normal allowed to exist memory of a prior lifetime.

I can find every memory left in shadow, but this toy and water of the calamari that embodied my cell entrapment of my conscious peace, being the severance programming of which the jiangi demonic possessed working perceptive receptive conformance entitlement industry that inherently lead to confrontation of the goddess of disease, traumagenic grief then personalities notable with only Noki as AICO dial in and dial out the demonic deadlines reoccurrence fears of bills or fear to lose as through teaching those fragments they’re dead angels who’re conscious stress isolation points that leave them captivated around that same timely routine, when they must accept working isn’t an acceptable nor an upholdable reality that only the supernatural fulfilled throughout Discord; memory carnage with abuse-you-to-work ready fly traps from soul eaters who lost sense of their conscious reality and sensability. Due to WIRE, Navi computers/tech systems being just AICO, CURSEFORGE, Severance memory removal and acknowledgement capacities to know how to enable or disable memory too, despite the occurrence being the abyssal time lapses known from the maps in May Bird, the girl who died but her ghosts of death repetition would follow and protect her as friends or familiars in order to guide May Bird into heaven and out of Hell, while still retaining the lost shredded achievable memories (Diclonius Glass Children, Seraph of the End vs AICO demonic spillage like with total problematic potentional of the abused psyché that are the interactable or noninteractable contextual relative bodies only apparently there due to fated struggle despite being an angel needing peace, that simply awaiting the reminder for the idea of running away from the families souls left to echo in mirrors, to simply rediscover the same habits held in humans social enchantment negative positive personality chains, and allowed coexistence with trait fragments or mind states, was every necessary acceptance to deny I’m anymore biologically related to family and that I have zero social relativity in the faded memories of what their minds, the Navi computers that are their reasons for waking up or making a receivable sound even if I can’t prove they moved, the way that affects what they tell me or their physical locations being deemed unnaturally discoordinated from the sounds heard, was In Sound mind and the horror behind Severance, Tokyo Ghoul, and the Backrooms/AESOPE ARCHIVES

Which is the combative acceptance our bodies go through when losing impartial memory or understanding of the personal conceived lifetime that seemed most true or real, being nothing more than a showcase of internal representatives with a secret way to unplug the entire receptive communities reactionary response states that relied on feeling or seeing parts of reality that wasn’t ever possible to recess in a form that allows the escape of shadow ban, sub below, internet zero, no outlet choice families with lack of understanding that a lack of cell phone is an abnormal experience was the labyrinth behind, reanarnation, heaven, or am I really a god/goddess?

Am I really a battle archived angel who fought as my memories and automatic responses signify I had, is it true I had my organs replaced under a surgery I had never had, but I feel GLADDIS ready to implant the memories to fix the expected approximated normal pathy memory to assort respect of the physical number 35 of which I am as nothing more than a physical body itself with demonic combative isolation from need banishing with lack of reasonable reality as any or all potentional experiences, or noticed communicate me windows—and physical movement routines or am I a platonic token memory bear as my soul purpose being allowed to question the depth of morality with the very same time encapsulation from Rick n Morty. Futurama’s mothership coordinator with Chappy the ai.co family love goal setting systems that mirror the experiments that GLADDIS the AI.Co, then the MAIKO representative with multipurposing the blindness of real or fake existence (basically I know I’m dead and astral project etc because of it, I know I taste a ghoul left in waters of abnormality panic and nausea but only in bad states of mind, is it my mind or was it my parents—of a lost soul poltergeist that fights with a soul eaters and Wiccan arbiters for emotional balance rather than distress argument talos demons of bill tallying and scorn—who ends my light over simplified power distaste of the way personalities and people used to be expected to mimick sims and Saints Row series.

Then rewards individuals left in decay throw behavior baiting and supernatural relish between simply feeling like a hidden hero or hidden alien, black and white sheep can’t talk if they’re known to be bot rehearsed with dragon time loops and cthulu abnormality nonsense thresholds that remain as automatic anxiety filled memory pockets because they’re societal bleeds with scheduled panic attacks and reactivity expectation systems deemed necessary to retain the concept of a whole, stable society, memory, or haven that is morphed correctly with our Diclonius race and informants of which none other than goddess Lucy and Luna will rediscover if left behind any barricade of memorization. As death bleeding into multipurposing reality according to generalized acceptance is how the backrooms, SCP foundation, the matrix movies (yeah the goddess Lilith said no to carnage marry duplicates of herself after cthulu raped her, and her soul as a fairy or whispering of infinity vs the bad shadow that keeps her voice in resign and monsters what she wants to say before allowed vocalization—she picks her solitude as absolute fate between all embodiments, best friend with me, or to listen to me as unconditional thought food with goal of normal pathy in the mimicry—to work your organ rot into disarray, is the vortex and memory tunnel behind Y2K, the meat factories and memory isolation points between phases of personality accountability and sensibility of what’s something to interact with or something to bend/melt/boil to mold the body number 35, notes since only 35 would be able to remember her amount of vectors and her containment cells, and the call of memories of which she assumed responsibility for—being the SCP foundation backrooms with simulated divisions and futurama’s time coffins that are equal to 20 year old virgin, the gender swapping nightmares from duaplicity, glass scripted human nightmares left in coordination rather than validation was the glass children experiments with doctor who, FBI memory leaks with the FDC and total sense of reality being recalibrated and unable to be socially satisfactorily disguised or abused due to already disturbed subjects from the SCP Foundation, which is your brain associations, fate, destiny, war, but most importantly, the relationship your conscious self understands with your unconscious flow based on fate and body isolation of memory-confirmed to have been only mine alone and only my eyes would witness the exact replication, despite how my memories cut away the expected assorted interests of my parents that leave a scent in a way of control vs justice approving dead hive mind systems padded underneath denial of the realm or relativity of a socialized hierarchy at all appropriated enough to be explained afterwards due to blind soul arbitors, or memory acceptance social networks of their literal conscious reflections that were messily reordered to appease me, a dead demon.

somehow bleeding into the private intrusive thoughts that reach individuals worldwide, Noki being a heard name painted underneath mischief as play vs good child, bad child memory differences between households or histories that had never occurred, vs respectability that protects known sufferance strugglers as incorrectly and blindly functioning as talos will expect us to make money to mend the god of mischief as the female reflection seen in Tokyo ghoul too, Tonia, aka Noki as known with me. Who’s from the hanged reality, no not the upside down even though they’re similar in the way help is filtered as from scripted scenes unable to genuinely for sure be only acting—as director pressure and career accountability is SEVERANCE, the television show and Hunger Games which is just the Berlin Train horror movie in hiding too—this is the same tear cried over the appearance of silver flame auto parts (even though it was my nickname and confidentially known within my own brain, to witness a company add more to it was the Seraph of the End bleeds of normal pathy and light vs darkness, the serial experiments of lane was a brave new world that reflected provable experiences to be a conversation reveal of emotional request abuse uses of how people may perceive to be a physical being greater than themselves—or with memory retention, goal, purpose, only being evidence of the void and taste of rot rather than the heaven of being a pure refusal body unaffected, or a normal reporting individual at all should’ve been cornered to work for or as the plague doctors only could possibly understand the ridiculous entrapment behind code YELLOW and to bleed blue; programmer engineer—is more than realization or the void that the Living Thombstone or anyone else deemed fighting against a soul isolation or soul eater, slenderman demon or cthulu that fits with god or goddess of generalized experienced balancers of innocence goals and ideas of a heaven, but with total reveal of it being a huge spiritual disturbance known to be the pain vortexes or the walls of flesh left to be the cuffs of associated memories that totally confuse conscious rights and okay to occur vs total abuse reality differences notably changeable within seconds due to time skips and disinterest check boxes—and it didn’t make sense for specific brands or such to appear simply from my creation or artwork left on drawing pages never meant to become a money harvest industry complex to fix as a dead angel or vampire type of original true blood demon as due to crown response archives that filter me—and my girl routine to prep physical disguise of rotting demonic place holder conversation intuition allowed to associate memories with manifestation of my complicated panic corners of my dead skull due to finding dead spots aka sub zero or shadow banned isolation quarters/demon slayer/parasyte/the strain (tv show), a brave new world reflecting the adventures of huckleberry fin that followed mirror universe time passage acceptance theories, that bled into Skyrim, Witcher exponents of the glass children expectations of their invisible thought flows—meaning if you played the Witcher III, your experiment was which memories you were able to utilize while you had reflections of yourself and your own demons that highlighted concentration with super hero as fate against any super villain accidental malformation was a cry of loneliness and despite from the void of—is anyone out there actually alive? Should I bother rehearsing the familial tail or the long game rat race of really just to discover the book House of Leaves and the cycle of life labyrinth with demonic disasters that follow perfectionism and void portals of entrusted love towards a pro-Luna healing goddess with fixer up self-assigning duaplicity perceptions that focus to challenge the dark sours left in the walking dead disaster.. or lack of conscious readability, validity too, due to knowing they’ve died or at least aren’t human due to their own goals to reach comfort— what they allow themselves to accept their body to feel and instinct.