#this is perhaps my truest deepest and darkest fear

[mid-october-tea]

— broken

Please don't copy or repost my work, reblogs are much appreciated <3

— blurbs #5

— word count: 216

//

Do you know that little voice inside your head? The one that tells you right from wrong? Well, mine's broken.

She only tells me things that are so obviously wrong And yet, I believe her anyway She tells me I'm a horrible, horrible person That I'm selfish, jealous, and ignorant I'm a narcissist who used every soul I've ever met Deluding them into loving me She tells me that everybody hates me My lover, my friends, down to my family They're just too nice to say it And I'm too blind to see it.

I know that she's wrong And yet, I believe her anyway How could I not when she voices only my deepest fears Whispering into my ears and reaching only the darkest corners of my soul Wretches alleyways that are too dark to see Let alone distinguishes right from wrong She tells me whatever my truest desire is, I don't deserve My fears are intuition My pain, only long overdue remission. She said if I wake up tomorrow Invisible, forgotten, stranded May it be for the best Countless turned away before Why would it be any different with the rest

Everyone has that little voice inside their head The one that tells you right from wrong Mine's broken And perhaps, so am I...

[undertonesofwind]

The Hopeful Beginnings of Self-Discovery

Perhaps this platform will not provide me with what it is I desperately need, that of which is an outlet to express the darkest and most secret components of my truest being. Nonetheless, I am here in pure earnest hoping that my conscious is wrong in its doubt. I enjoy the animosity, as it has been a great struggle for such a long time to even gather enough courage to think, much less, write out my deepest thoughts and feelings for my fearful eyes to bear witness. 

I write in fear. In terror of admitting that of which I find to be most dreadful: my truest self, the part of my being I purposefully suppress when it dares threaten to intrude my reality. I won’t let it! I have for years refused, to a varying degree of success. 

In my earlier years of adulthood, I was more carefree as to let this entity explore the realms of my reality, taking joy in all the liberties of honest self-expression. But as time grew on, I permitted the world to cast shadows of doubt upon my true being of existence, and, thus, banished it to the outer-most boundaries of my soul, where no one could touch it, not even I. I barred this version of myself, ugly in its unashamed sincerity and destructive nature of my perfectly peaceful, heteronormative life. I allowed this part of myself to be consumed by the dark void of shame, the shame of which tells myself, “These feelings are utterly and disgracefully unnatural! You must dispose of them to cleanse your soul so it remains pure!” And as a result of carrying this darkness inside of me, I do feel impure. Utterly filthy. I will never be normal, so my soul will never be polished and spotless. I will always be contaminated, because I will always love women.

I am not a heterosexual. To be quite honest, I don’t think I ever was. Perhaps in my youth, before I was exposed to elements of queerness or properly recognized them, I enjoyed the life of a heterosexual girl, feeling flutters of excitement within the adventurous company of the boy next door, imagining fascinating fantasies of being saved by a knight in shining armor atop a shimmering steed, and, of course, dreaming of my wedding day in which I say, “I do,” to a perfect, well-groomed and even-tempered gentleman that would love me for all eternity. Such thoughts of youth are beautiful in their innocence, even if they are short-lived and regrettably native in nature. However, they are treasured memories, even now, and those that I enjoy reminiscing about every now and again, for it’s relieving to relive the sentiments of such simpler times when now I struggle so deeply with my own self-identity. 

I am currently in a heterosexual relationship with a cis-gendered man. We have been together for quite a long time. In fact, our five-year anniversary is just next month. I do love and adore him deeply. And my passions towards him are just as strong. Not many are so lucky to have someone by their side for so long. Thus, despite our ups and downs, I am eternally grateful for his loyalty, companionship, and love. However, with that said, I can’t help but admit that not all is right in our relationship, as there will always be a missing component that his heart cannot fill. It is with great remorse that I express it, as it feels like an unforgivable act of betrayal on my part to not only acknowledge but to openly reveal it: He will never be a woman. He can never love me in the ways that I sometimes so desperately crave. That is not to say that I do not yearn for his affections. I certainly do. But there are times, infrequent, yet frequent enough, when I long so much for a female lover. And that is something for which, regrettably, he will never be able to provide. 

As I mentioned previously, for quite some time I did believe myself to be heterosexual. Even within a part of that time when I did hesitantly question my sexuality, I was very well-versed in the ability to suppress the unwanted and dangerous thoughts containing non-heteronormative ideas and eroticism. But such days have longed passed. As an adult, I have become well-aware of my sexual passions in its entirety. I have fully come to accept my feeling for men and women, although my doubt and insecurity regarding my desire towards the latter party is still something I must learn to overcome. And for this very reason I have chosen to write this extensive personal dialogue. I am utterly tired of having to hide my true self. I despise myself for concealing this wonderful part of me that does justice in representing who I really am: a confident, unabashed creative woman who dares to adventure in both love and life. And as it stands right now, I am miles away from becoming that woman in any respect. But if I am able to reach out to my truth within, perhaps it will illuminate my soul, and I can finally live my life in full sincerity. Perhaps releasing my sexuality from the binds of shame, resentment, and guilt will let me free and give me unrestricted access to joys that were previously confined and untouched. I don’t know how I will fare on this journey of self-discovery, but I hope there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, a light whose rays will shine pure truth and happiness upon my life. 

[suffocationpitarchive]

( CONFESSION!! )

 SEND ME CONFESSION & I’LL RANDOMLY GENERATE A NUMBER FOR MY CHARACTER TO CONFESS…

IX - TO BEING A VIRGIN.

            HE IS IRON FORGED, hammered from the coldest steel, weathered and worn but still standing after all the lives he has taken, all the bloodshed endured, unbroken, unbowed. A man towering at six foot seven, broadly built; the personification of strength, power, DOMINATION. And yet, and yet — within Her presence, this ingot born boy man is as malleable as warm candle wax, weak and enervated to Her devil’s charms. They say women have a STRANGE power over men, capable of bewitching and seducing, ensnaring their hearts within slender little fingers. No normal woman ever ignited Evan’s interest during his time as the heir to the MacMillian estate. To him, women were all the same. As bland as a field of white flowers, each smelling vaguely the same, appearance perhaps different in the way some petals were cream, others feather-white: but in this metaphorical field of boring blanche, he could not bring himself to pick one from another. Could not find someone who grabbed his attention —  certainly not in the ways She has, red blossom in this field of starch. Despite his strength and power, MacMillian willingly abdicates this in Her presence. That hardened, coal like lump in his chest BURNS for Her, and Her alone, fills his core with smog and embers, for she drowns every single one of his senses, smothers and chokes him in ashy embrace —- and he allows Her, because it is the truest and most genuine thing to love he’s ever felt. He could not love no mortal woman. No mortal woman ever understood him, ever saw him for what he truly was, the threads of flesh-made suit slowly coming undone. But She has seen all of him, and accepts him wholly. AS MONSTER & MAN.

          Her kisses leave him reeling, wanton and certainly hungry for more; stirs up the blood in his loins, awakens a decades old famine from the deepest recesses of his mind, one that claws viciously, scrapes at his insides with thick haggish claws, tries to escape the confides of marrow cage, overflow and flood through the rough execution of wandering hands, an open mouth, and hitched breath. Evan has found in Her presence he is more willing to engage in the darkest of deeds, and what little humanity he has left is charred, rises thickly to the surface like blood in salt water. The three key elements that have driven human nature since conception are his only goals: the hunt and the feast have already taken place; he has slaughtered and raised up four upon rusted pedestals for his Empress, and the itch inside of him that longs for the spillage of crimson and to see the Goddess well fed has been stated. But there is something else that burrows into his skin like a cockroach to weak wooden flooring. It is that same fire that swallows his bosom, swallows his mind whole with thoughts of HER. He has never extinguished this lust, never pressed for it to be STAMPED OUT, for secretly he is impuissant and fears Her knowing. And yet, and yet — it is times like these, as a newborn killer of the fog, with their limbs entangled and his soul still young and naive, heart swollen from infatuation, he finds it so very hard to resist. 

           Bodies wrestle to strip each other of clothing, scarlet from sacrificed bodies still staining the floor of the basement, noises of want heavy in the shell of his ear, feels Her talons scratch his skin. This is the furthest they have come, and very easily he could give into this, Lord knows he wants to feel every inch of Her skin against his. But as he feels Her grasp slip to touch him, to pull apart the ties of his trousers, Evan TENSES, becomes something akin to a mannequin, stiffens as if his body is made of marble. “Stop.” It’s rasped, hoarse with effort, calloused fingers curling around a pale wrist while slim digits caress the growing bulge within the confides of leather. Their eyes meet — Hers, black as the deadest night, half-lidded and somewhat lustful; his, umber and wide with strain, fret. Evan wets his lips, glances away as he forces the words to leave his throat gruffly. “I cannot… give yer what y’ want…I cannot perform the duty. I’m not a whole man. I have not…”  He has not known a woman’s touch in the ways he knows other men have. He is, in the most simple of terms, virginal. Evan knows what sex is, knows that it is supposed to be the thing men strive for; a comfort, a release, a pleasurable pastime found in the arms of many a gullible, naive girl, or weary prostitute. In his time he may of fooled around with a few lasses here and there, fumbling blindly, kisses a little hard and awkward from a lack of experience… arguably his kissing techniques are far better now, but he never stuck anything inside a woman that wasn’t his ring finger, or rusted meat cleaver, for his father drilled into him the fear of ever bringing forth a BASTARD into the world. A leech on ones fortunes, a leech on ones life. Not something you could bury in a casket and toss away to the deepest, darkest part of your mind, let it gather dust and FORGET all about it. Archie had told Evan the worst and most dishonorable thing a man could do was bring a bastard into the world, something that would threaten a trueborn’s claim to the ESTATE, the FORTUNE, to EVERYTHING.  A bastard would destroy all his father’s efforts into ensuring their family remain one of greatness, with no shame attached and no shadow, and so devoted and fearful of his father, MacMillian had sworn to never bed a woman outside of wedlock, to keep such a carnal sin within the holiness of a golden-banded marriage, the union between man and wife. But here, he doubts very much there will ever be a wedding between himself and this centuries old deity. He has pledged himself, loyal as a dog, and in time his reward will become scared markings of protection, of a HIGH PRIEST, alongside the position of Her consort. He loves Her, and truly would give anything to be with Her in such a mannerism — but his biggest fear when it comes to the Entity, is to disappoint and dishonor Her.

          Blackened fingers caress his heat-flushed features, cheeks pink from embarrassment, Evan swallowing hard as his muddy gaze flutters open. He could never lie to the Entity. She would know it without question, the all-seeing, all-knowing creature She is. He parts his lips to speak, to express his truth — but he only manages a small, “I have not ever made love t’a woman,” before She silences him with the soft press of her mouth upon his, feels how Her nails catch the edge of his jaw, rakes through uncut stubble. Still, the iron man is unmoving, uncertain, even as She roams from features to jugular, peppering whatever parts of his scarred flesh She can reach, hand slipping to curl in the back of his hair to pull SHARPLY. Evan will always be putty in the Entity’s grasp, always will bend at the knee for Her — even now, She leads this display of affection. He feels his body bend forward without him even thinking to do so, Her lips grazing against the shell of his ear. Evan senses every hair on his body stand on edge when She speaks, that unfathomably ancient voice purring lowly. All at once, he finds he is eager, elevated, and yet somewhat anxious, just by ten words alone. That is the power She holds over him — that seduction & DOMINATION none other could ever possess, for no mortal woman could ever control him, ever have the strength to HURT or EMPOWER him. But the Entity is no mortal woman. Nor is the Entity truly a woman at all. Like he, the deity rarely shows its true self to the naked eye without killing the unfortunate. Perhaps that is why they are so well matched. In some ways, they are similar. In others, extremely different. But Evan knows he has pledged his love and loyalty to a being far more powerful than he — and after tonight, he will wait with baited breath for these heated moments between them, where the TRAPPER sheds his metal mask and indulges in what could be considered a bloodthirsty copulation, formed from their desire, and his own twisted masochism.

                                        “Then I will make you a whole man, my darling.”

[laabadessana]

F*ck Positivity. Real Growth happens in the Darkness, Triggers, Anxiety & Pain.

However the descent into the darkness begins, it always perfectly contains everything we need to heal and grow.

Perhaps it’s a veering off course from the things that nurture us, a harsh trigger from our environment, a perceived setback, or a reaction to pain.

Any way it happens, there is an inner knowing that something is out of balance. This little voice is then followed by the cascade of the fear response, and the struggle against our perceived “negativity” often commences.

That struggle was borne when our ego won the argument with our intuition. It started as a negotiation, then we made a misstep. We probably chose the thing that would feel good right now. We probably threw out the thing that might be uncomfortable, but will have a true payoff to our well-being, later.

We probably weren’t feeling very well when we made that choice. We may have done it out of real desperation from being ground down into a pulp by difficult circumstances or feelings we don’t want to deal with.

Next, the battle within breaks out. The rebellion. “I don’t want to feel this way!” we may moan. “This shouldn’t be happening to me!” we protest. “Why can’t I just be positive?” we scream at our pain. We are off to the races at this point, spiraling downward in a parade of self-pity to avoid the emotion beneath it all: the fear that our darkness will swallow us whole.

The waves and triggers start crashing down in quick succession as we struggle against the storm within us. We let go of self-nurturing and care as we succumb to doubt and futility once again. The darkness takes hold and actually begins to swallow us, anyhow. We feel like we are drowning when the reality is that we are still swimming.

How long we stay there, flailing with the breakers crashing down upon us, depends on many things. We are pulverized until what was always meant to happen finally does. Until they shatter us so hard that we remember to surrender, turn to face our pain, and let it take us where it needs to go. Until we allow our awareness to shine like a beacon onto that difficult thing we have been judging as bad or wrong, probably for decades.

The irony is that the “bad” thing we are fighting to repress is always that which needs our immediate attention and love. The shift to nurturing and supporting the self in this state of duress (aka, negativity) allows for a relaxation into it, and our fight-or-flight response finally begins to let go. Because the real process of letting go means embracing the thing that hurts, not forcing oneself to bypass it with toxic positivity.

It always results in the same miracle, eventually. The nervous system calms, the sands beneath us stop shifting for a while. The sun rises, and we gain some deep and truly valuable insight into ourselves, which allows another layer of our false identity to shatter and fall away.

The struggle with and surrender to our inner darkness is the catalyst for our metamorphosis, for the deep journey to our core.

It never fails to dazzle me how each and every time we get sucked down is really just another “perfect storm.” How the wisdom contained within suffering can carry us closer to coming into alignment with our truest selves, no matter how convinced we were it would ruin us. Because perhaps that was what was meant to happen all along. The thing we were holding onto so tightly and pushing away simultaneously was always our salvation.

There is nothing I have found, in all my pursuit of pleasure-seeking distraction, that can compare with feeling at home in one’s self. The surrender to the wisdom in our darkness is alchemical and breathtaking. It brings us back to our integrity. We stop stumbling to put ourselves back together, because we realize that we were never broken in the first place.

Anxiety is simply the perception that something is “wrong.” Depression is the weight of the futility of buying into that too heavily. Surrender to reality, however painful, taps us back into our innate wholeness and the flow of life. Nothing. Feels. Better.

We felt like we were dying, but we realize that we are still here, that we are capable of surviving anything, except our false identities.

This is when the warrior is born. The one who understands that surrender to reality was the only way to ever win. That the battle against the inner self is futile. That the keys to freedom lie in pain and discomfort.

This process is nonlinear and repetitive, like a spiral. It often feels like madness and negativity. We may think we have finished, only to find ourselves back in the perfect storm once more.

There is no right or wrong way to heal, only our own path. It’s a deeply personal journey based on exactly the lessons which we are here to discover, uncover, and expose to the light so they can begin to take us deeper and deeper down that spiral toward who we were always meant to be. These lessons are contained within our darkest pain.

The negative is the path to uncovering our true selves. It is in that struggle and surrender that we find our deep reserves of inner strength and the resilience to live a life of fearlessness and courage. To truly set ourselves free. To follow our bliss. To experience the joy that lies in a well of gratitude when we realize we can weather any storm.

It is through embracing the darkness that we find our way back to the light. So, f*ck positivity, and embrace your deepest pain. It’s always been there, waiting beneath all the new-age spiritual platitudes and shame to bring you back home.

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2019/11/fck-positivity-real-growth-happens-in-the-darkness-janelle-marie-brown

[rebeljones777-blog]

Just ranting Sorry guys *So I'm writing this blind.... I had finally realized it wasn't my vision that was distorted, it was actually me seeing the world though new eyes in the raw. Now this was not a revelation, not yet anyhow. But it will eventually be and that's when I will stop writing. I have come to the realization that everything in the world is covered in sweet coatings that don't last very long. A mountain of snow is still a mountain when the snow has melted. We forget to see the good in things when they are conceived, before we start having ideas to make them better for our own selfish purposes, kind of like this here. My thoughts and ideas are not mine alone, many of my thoughts and ideas were my grandmothers, and she gave me that to do something better with that pure goodness that she happened to share with me, and all who knew her. Anyways just realize that everyone and everything has an origin story that they touch lives with, this is how life has a story to tell. I know not what I'm writing so I don't really believe there is a genre for the material I am writing, I will stand corrected if I'm wrong. What I won't take criticism for is how I write or speak. This is my thoughts, philosophies, and a journey into a broken dark but unique mind. This is a writing platform that I have created as an easier way for others to share their genius with the rest of the world so in this content I hereby reserve the rights to have reproduced as long as the words, story, or content written in this platform are of the authors own words. This is a legal binding contract imbedded into the content I have written. I possess the common sense to know my human rights to free thought and ideas. So here it is, the words in this content (In which I reserve the human and legal right to this creative platform, on my terms..... etc.) are the most important words I will ever write, speak nor think. If I'm still alive (Not likely) to see this project finished, then nothing I say do or write after this will be quite so relevant. With fear of sounding like I believe in the ridiculous notion of a big invisible guy in the sky watching us and judging who's naughty or nice, my mom pulled that trick on me with Santa Clause, so when do we get old enough to realize God is not some mystical entity that that exists outside of ourselves. My theory is the one we call God is actually called in the real world the conscious , the one thing we know for a fact exists and has the powers and abilities to create pretty much anything so what's the big mystery, why must there be one, why can't we just except that we are responsible for our own actions there is no boogie man who will banish you to hell if you're a naughty boy nor do I believe there a horned beast that will steal my soul and torture me for eternity. How ridiculous must that sound coming out of a grown man's mouth. However I do feel a driving force or powerful energy within myself compelling me to write these things, but I refuse to label that energy with a superior title think about that, and allow it to sink in. I've done quite a bit of extreme adventure in my life yet feel so mundane and bored with traditional life because I have taken a step back and peeked behind the theater screen called life and realized majority of it was meaningless and fake, and when it came down to it my life was the same year after year wake up work or school come home eat sleep do it again, day after day, and for what, what can you leave this life saying that you genuinely helped others just for sheer kindness and without expectation or reciprocation, and you truly had a hand in making humanity better? This book I'm writing is my point of no return, this I will be forever committed to. This book of thoughts dreams, philosophies, passions, and sheer insanity is me in the rawest purest form. This here is me bearing my blood sweat and tears, my heart and soul onto these pages. What I am putting as content within these pages are my deepest darkest truths, these words are and will always be the truest words I have ever spoken, remember this whomever reads these pages that the same voice that speaks to me now also will haunt your minds until you do something to release it. There will be those who will speak out against my writings and may even attempt to barricade any success of this book which is okay because as long as one person reads my words this book has served its purpose. Why you ask would anyone care if this book was written and published, well because its contents will demand the reader to be honest with themselves about themselves. Perhaps it will show someone their purpose in life as it has shown me mine. Now something phenomenal has recently happened to me. I have battled with some mental illness for some time now and I have learned quite a bit about quite a bit lol. *Disclaimer * if you don't allow yourself options the world will never change for you and this content is not yet for you, at this time in your life. I recently have gotten off 24 pills a day mostly psych meds for depression, PTSD, anxiety disorder pain, and several for sleep aides. I must say these big pharma corporations should be dragged out in the town squares stoned to an inch of their lives for what they have done to us so called crazies. You've seen the pill commercials late at night, when you can't sleep, and the guy at the end speaking over beautiful music tells you all the deadly side effects that can happen if taken, or my favorite you might even lose control of some bodily functions. What kind of dumbing down society the big corporations and governments have done. What they don't tell you while spewing out all the dangerous side effects they don't tell you that YOU WILL LOSE YOUR FUCKING SANITY, SELF, and SOUL. I don't believe in God in the general sense because I see the world in a more naked raw realistic form, I see the world how it is and not how society wants me to see it. I have taken the much needed time to sit down and introduce me to myself for the first time, and this is my minds voice the true me the original no B.S. just me. The psych community would have a field day with this read honestly, and that's kind of my intentions (one of many) are to stir up enough of a shit storm, that the education system will have to reevaluate the entire way they look at psychology, among other subjects that are controlled by the elitists that are in charge of what we learn in school from day one. Understanding how we used to think is key to changing the way we think now because inevitably we will have to or no longer exist it's ultimately our choice. People seem to put entirely too much stock in fables and prophecy and invisible entities. Let's try being responsible for ourselves. I feel that there are very few career psychologists are qualified to really work in the field. There is an important factor in the job and I believe you need to have a very deep connection with your own thought process to truly be worthy to work in the psychology field. I would say the study of the mind and how it operates is and will always be the most important subject to be studied; our human existence depends on it. Everybody knows (but refuses to acknowledge it) that our education system is riddled with corruption, and is an agenda driven broken system that's only getting worse in America. Our national ignorance is laughable, and I feel that the idea of organized education should be abolished completely, and reconstructed into individual interests and focusing on the strong qualities of the student. This should be instilled as young as possible. This country needs a reboot with brand new innovators educated in a way that motivates an increase in our children's creative interests. They say +history repeats itself and it's true. We as a people need to rewrite the way we do things and change the pattern of what was, if not then we will continue living in the same mundane life we've been accustomed to in the past. We need more self-thinkers with a willingness to change how we see our world. I would hope to see a nation of true Anarchists vision where people are responsible for themselves but since that would never actually be possible we need something as close as we can get. Obviously there are very bad people out there that would go to great lengths' to stop this from ever happening because these evil bastards the one percent thrive on making us their tax paying slaves till our demise. These power mongers that get off on being the authority of every aspect of our lives, and destroying the very essence of humanity. These are the one percent that must be thrown out of control and publicly held accountable for their crimes against the people they have been in charge of governing. I mean exactly what I'm implying, so there's no confusion, if there is a mass standoff of the majority against our governing terrorists that would be the change of changes that has been waiting to break loose. We must take down the tyrants (our governing body) and oppressors with extreme prejudice and the raw fury of true humanity. I can hear the wheels turning in your enslaved minds upon reading and hope I have offended you enough to think about the truth in what I just said and then try to influence that statement into positive energy and a productive direction by your own choice. In doing this you have broken free a small link in the mental chain that has been programmed into you since before birth. This is the only way to make what was to what will be. History repeats itself, this is true but it doesn't have to. We as a human race not just Americans need to break away with many of our traditions and travel a different path untraveled. This will not change everyone because some people were put here as a chaotic balance that we can never control or tame. There are people whom get great pleasure in destroying humanity and that is a presence that must exist, but they do not have to be such a powerful force in everyday society if we don't allow them to be. We must stand up as a human race and allow the powerful to witness a link in humanity to destroy those who are destroying. We are many and they are few, what we have allowed to happen to the way we live life is an atrocity and must change! Hey....Yeah you...Hey what are you deaf.... I'm talking to you, and.......What needs to happen realistically for eventual peaceful resolve is to come up with an unlikely idea, strong enough to appeal to the masses on a genuine human emotion and mean it without judgement, just raw passion without emotional obsession or commitment. This must be approached with a strong psychological understanding of people in general.One more rant then I will go away I promise I just have to get this off my chest! Ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country. - John F Kennedy- What ever happened to that idea? What is terrorism and why is it okay for our government to terrorize, but a severely punishable crime if we are even suspected to be a threat to them. When will we stand up as a people and realize the time is now to exercise our second amendment that was set in place for exactly these times that are happening right now. We are living under dictatorship right now and the only thing people can think about is a new God damn president to fix the issues that are ultimately beyond repair. our leadership has allows us to basically live as a threat to each other on a daily basis, until it gets in the way of our governments tyranny, then it becomes an act of terrorism in their evil super villain minds. We don't need the leadership that has ruled us as slave masters to its people for so long. What we need is to be tearing down the walls of this fake freedom crap that has been fed to us to keep us in our place. Structured laws with secondary agendas have no place here and rebuilding the leadership structure from ground up, which will take a lot of sacrifice and some dire straight times but it's what needs to happen to get the change the majority of us truly want. So say goodnight to the bad guy, because its people like myself that are needed to point the finger at and label as the un-American terrorist or criminal how I dare speak out against our masters. I have made the choice to be that if I must to make a statement and spark an idea in the minds of you who think alike but are not yet ready to be so vocal. This I believe is what needs to happen to spark the change needed for humanities sake and not just my own. But just know I am a true American and love my country but hate what we have allowed it to become. I have done my due diligence and sacrificed more than most for the idea of the freedom I was raised to believe in. As I freely write these words I just want you the reader to know that at this very moment we are the freest people on this earth. This is free speech at its rawest form and once it's spoken and written there's no taking that back. How liberating a thought that is. Why is it we as a people don't manifest these ideas our reality. We should be a part of this country/planet comfortably without being considered a threat to dictators. I hereby present myself as the voice of reason for the people that cannot, I present myself as the guy who hates America but written by the American, A people outraged and ready to speak out! I am you, reading this right now thinking maybe I'm on to something.