Somewhat recently scientists have been able to find proof to the theory that it was/ is my own mind who is the God of the Universe in which I reside. You are the god of your own universe and it all sounds exciting until you understand that the part of your mind that’s in charge of the plan is the subconscious and that is a man of whom I am no fan.
Like where do I start to list all the ways my subconscious mind has never failed to rip me apart, take out my heart, put people in my life who have consistently bailed. I have been jailed and I have been raped multiples times and I’ve spent years on cocaine committing petty crimes. I’ve given birth to five kids and all five I have lost and at this point in my life my heart is so frozen it needs a good defrost.
Well, they say being grateful is a very important key to unlocking this power inside of me. Which again sounds exciting, and is it just me or you do you also see the straight fucking irony? So I stand on the throne of the universe called my life and I want to be grateful but for what? A knife? A knife that has been put in my back so much that I think I lost touch with any gratitude or such.
So you’re telling me that the world that I see was created by me which actually means I am the one who made this place and made this space that I hate so passionately. I did this shit? This was done by me? OMFG.
So now I have choices and the main ones are two, they also are lenses with perspectives to view. I can use the knowledge to hate my dad more or I can try to understand wtf I AM here for….
Now I know that if I spend all of my time trying to climb the FUCKERY mountain, this dad of mine, what will I find? Nothing, I won’t find a fucking thing. He doesn’t love me and he never has and so I wouldn’t be learning a goddamn thing instead I’d be incurring more negative karma because my dad makes me so mad I want to get in a ring and tie him to a chair and just sit across from him and not say a word, I’d keep my mouth shut until the point that I heard him open his mouth and with just one word, I’d want to punch out his teeth but I’m just not that mean so I’d probably just spit in his face.
But I probably wouldn’t do that either (even though I am def an angry spitter)
No matter which way I chop it he’s not gonna stop it, he will never admit to not one piece of shit, he will tell me everything has always been my fault and I know it will feel like a gash filled with salt so yeah, no…I’m done with my dad. I truly do hope that he’ll find him some soap that will wash his brain to some normal refrain but normal is something my dad won’t obtain because my dad is a mean, stubborn Dane.
If nothing else I have to leave my ego on the shelf and stop thinking of my dad and of everyone else. The present is now and is and it was and the present is the only place which does allow me to leave my body and travel the cosmos a few times a week.
The mysterious pineal gland is quite unique.
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