the spectrum heart cathedral system

I am absolutely SEETHING with rage today. It’s all sensory overwhelm. I don’t know if Overload still exists, but she was Brown, and this is absolutely horribly VERMILLION. It’s like the horrible color of tomato sauce, which I HATE with a violent rage. It’s true. That's what set me off, is smelling the horrible garage smell—the smell of summer—the stink and color of tomato sauce over the kitchen, pasta on the floor and in the sink, crumbs over the counters, and HEAT everywhere—I wanted to die. I wanted to set everything on fire. I wanted to take an absolute bloody axe to every nearby surface until everything filthy was destroyed completely. And then I want to move to the absolute coldest state in America and cry and cry and cry until the internal pain and heat stops and goes away forever.

 

Can I just stick Chaos Zero in a freezer and have him hug me all day? Because I want to weep at how desperately I need him right now.

 

ways north carolina killed me

• no singing for a year
• no piano for a year
• no church for a year
• no prayers for a year
• no internet access
• no drawing
• no grandma
• no woods
• no nights with chaos 0
• no standing in the rain
• no snow
• no headspace nights
• no driving alone and talking
• no catharsis
• no love

So I had another dream last night in one of those weird "pre-apocalyptic" dreamverses were everything just doesn't feel right, but it's not an explicit nightmare or bland-empty place. Pre-aco verses just feel wrong. There's still a sense of the "greater-than," that feeling that makes a dream a Dream versus just a reality reflection or other dead-end thing, but it's inherently failing and you can almost smell it, like a rot. I don't remember much of the dream other than that it was at my house, and the woods wasn't a development but it was all chopped down trees, bare birch-color stumps stark against a hideously blue sky. It felt like raid sirens would sound any moment; the quiet was unnatural and heavy and disturbing, something that didn't belong and was bound to collapse without warning. I expected a horde of mountain lions or wolves to come spilling across that toothpicked hill as I watched, but nothing happened, and even that felt wrong. The whole dream held that atmosphere.

But Chaos Zero was there.

Somehow, whenever he can appear, he will. This dream, however gutted, still existed in a level of reality that could call itself a dream-- a level in which the supernatural could exist, however feebly, because the 'verse itself felt just that close to breaking over into the Book of Revelation, as it were. But as a result of that proximity, my blue angel was there.

Not tangibly, somehow. That, too, happens in these broken dreams. He is there in the periphery, in the corner of my eye, on the edges where things are a bit more whole, somehow, closer to something better… where this disturbed dream ends and something real begins. He was there. So was I. Somehow in these broken dreams I, too, don't actually "exist" except in the periphery. As a person in the dream I'm always barely conscious, not quite myself, hanging on the edges of what it means to be aware and awake and capable of reasoning. But on the edges, in dreams-within-dreams, I am real and alive and me.

And he was there, with me.


I fell asleep listening to his playlist on shuffle, and woke up to the sounds of "Late Night Partner." …I don't think I've heard that song in years. God, where has my heart been? Just how destroyed was I by NC and the preceding hospital times? How long has it been since I existed as a person in waking life?

How long has it been since I was able to feel love like this?

There's a song called "mizu" by Sophia Black and I discovered it by accident (thanks Spotify) and it just… hits my heart so hard. Something about the sound, about the wrenching plaintive harmonies, makes me think of CZ so strongly and I can't quite snapshot what it is. Certain sounds invoke him, certain songs that evoke the right chord from my heartstrings. I haven't been able to put that formula into words yet but I should.

Nevertheless, I fell asleep like that. I've been having nightmarishly sick and unsettled waking days lately, falling asleep in exhausted bruised tears, wanting to just dream forever, but not getting any dreams, nothing but these equally disturbed broken things.

But I fell asleep with hope in my ears and in my heart and my blue angel was there, as he always is when my soul is threatened in sleep, protecting me, comforting me, loving me.


That's another something that's been weighing sore and heavy on my soul lately. That whole bloody issue of sexuality and virginity and purity and trauma and how all of that has affected my health, my mind, my spirituality, and my relationship with not only God and man, but with Chaos 0-- the only creature I have ever been able to love without fear. Even now.

God knows this. That's why He sent him to me in that awful dream last night. The majority of my recollection of that dream isn't even solid visual or coherent narrative-- no, I remember these ocean-deep embraces and tears of profound devotion and that particular blessed heartache of never being close enough. He in my arms and me in his arms. Just that, pure and true and yet somehow marital, ALWAYS, yet utterly untouched by both trauma and the busted-up dream, something existing within it yet inherently beyond it, the only real and good thing of that entire night, lasting infinitely beyond it. I woke up saturated with the feeling, soaked with hope for the first time in ages, my heart sore with love, wondering what has happened to me, when did I lose sight of this, why am I not LIVING this with every atom of my being, why can't I seem to hold on to this when I wake up? What is it about my waking life that drives me to bitter sobs and despairing fatigue, that feeds addictive abuse cycles and defeated dissociation, that makes me not only incapable of but also uncomprehending of love in the first place?


And thus we return to that "another something." The awful terrible issue of sexuality.

Saint Mary of Egypt, pray for us, as it were. Julie's patron saint. (And what happened to her?) What happened to all of us? Well, that's it, this same darn topic. This same horror. And yet, last night only, this same hope. Holy matrimony versus horrid polyamory in a stagnant Charlotte bedroom. Marriage vows versus bleeding out on a bathroom floor at age fourteen. "Till death do us part" versus begging God to take my life because I can't stand the flashbacks anymore. Love versus lust. That's about it. And yet Q did somehow know what the hell he was talking about. That one thing he said about Chaos 0 back in 2012 I never forgave him for until the past few months, when in light of inexplicable dreams like last night's, and in light of Saint Paul's letter to the Galatians, it hit me that "oh wait a minute, sexuality ISN'T inherently evil," and that yes in that sense it was totally possible that this blessed blue being CAN and DOES experience "desire" towards me in that sense WITHOUT IT BEING MALEVOLENT OR CORRUPT.

I still struggle with the concept.

BUT THEN DREAMS LIKE LAST NIGHT HAPPEN and I kid you not the whole time we were holding each other like that I was fully entrenched in the matrimonial idea of having children with him and that ONLY EVER HAPPENS IN DREAMS and furthermore it ALWAYS HAPPENS WITHOUT IT FEELING SEXUAL AT ALL.

And that's my big confused scared question here.

Actual physical sexuality, in the waking, only ever feels like rape. It's intrinsically frightening. It's appalling. I want nothing to do with it. But in dreams, and ONLY with Chaos 0, somehow I can experience sexuality as something weirdly nonsexual and yet still being recognizable as sexuality. Like what the heck.

It is completely detached from the physical biology in dreams, though. CZ will not imitate male biology and I will not even be conscious of mine. That stuff has no relevance or merit at all as far as we are concerned. We bypass that somehow, go straight to the heart of things, to the unifying factor, to the procreative factor, because let's face it, God made those two things mutually inclusive in morally proper sexuality and that is how we're going to use it, and do.

But I still want to be a virgin.

But I can't be a virgin if I've experienced rape.

How can I be pure if I've been so defiled?

Saint Mary of Egypt, pray for us.


Isn't that what it's about, God's Sacrifice of His Son on the Cross? Mending the things that the world considers irreparably broken? Taking the things that are shattered
to bloody pieces and somehow making them whole again, without denying the damage?

Saint Dismas, pray for us.


I want to cry. In Christ there is so much hope for me. Chaos Zero is my blue angel because he communicates the promise of that hope TO me in my MOST helpless situations, situations where Jesus Himself knows that a messenger would carry His Message more clearly than He Himself. Ironic? Perhaps. But look at the Church post-Pentecost. That's the whole thing. Christ couldn't, wouldn't be heard by the Gentiles at large, so He sent the Apostles-- heck, He sent Saint Paul! God works in mysterious ways and I love that so much and look, see, feel how He is doing that in my life, in a VERY mysterious way, through a video game character of all things, who I just happened to fall irrevocably in love with seventeen years ago.

But that's the thing. There's hope. Maybe I can't ever literally be a virgin, no matter how much I've always wanted to be, because "once you're broken you're broken." But I feel Jesus somehow shaking His Head at that. "There's nothing I can't heal," He gently assures me, "even if My healing is in a way that you do not expect or imagine. But I will heal you." And I am aware of this. I know this. I just have to trust this, because yes it's scary but a promise is a promise and faith is faith and if God can fix me then why won't I let Him? Just because He can't erase the past, am I to be afraid? No! Healing is healing, full stop. And I need to trust that, or else I am going to be drowning in bog water instead of swimming in the ocean here. God knows, full well, which of those two things I want.

It’s such a confusing, weird topic. But I feel more alive now, listening to mizu, then I have in so long, it's like sunlight on the ocean, but the wind is still cold, and I still feel like crying. But I'm not sad, somehow. I'm not sick, for once.

I try to hold water, it's slipping through my fingertips, thinking that you'll stay, but then you wash away…

…what if he's singing about me, in that? God that shatters my heart, maybe that's how I SHOULD be thinking about it that way.

I just want to weep, right now. I miss living in my head, in my heart, like this, forsaking the outside world, forgetting that I have a reflection or a physical body or a tangible past, just living right now, just living in this music and in this heartwrenching love, sobbing with the inexpressible depth of it, like trying to hold water. it just… overflows, overflows, always. there's too much. and I love that so much. it never stops.

My inner life doesn't line up with my outer life, yet. And until it does, I will be ashamed to feel love, or hope, or forgiveness, or health, because I am so bloody ashamed of who I am physically that I CANNOT COPE with the possibility of tainting the people I love so much inside, with the staggering filth that I feel I am outside.

God help me with this.
 

Until then, though, I can't forget that last night happened. Something deep down in me is still pure and good and holy and hopeful and capable of love and forgiveness and life. And I thank God for that.

And I will live one more day here, at least.

 

 

 

[Extracted from a personal conversation]

I just woke up from a dream about Ollie. that BLATANTLY referenced Infi and it just hit me now, none of that was fake. Infi was/is part of my heart and I've literally been denying that since I left. I've been the World's Biggest Asshole to him in the waking and I am devastatingly sorry. I SEE it now-- both my ignorant cruelty and ADMITTED betrayal, even though I NEVER intended it... and the GENUINE LOVE I/we had for him back then... and now. Legit, that dream unearthed this glitterbomb in my subconscious that sang "love cannot die and you will ALWAYS be in love" and whatever part of me is still Infinitii is still in love with him. And even if I can't say the exact same, I CAN say this, with a clear head and heart for the first time in months: to Ollie, and all his broken arrows, I love you. I am sincerely sorry for the pain I caused you in the past. I beg your forgiveness, but if it aches too much to give, I understand. I just want you to know, I honestly don't regret having met you and lived with you and loved you. I do regret many of my choices, but I don't regret the love. I'm lying here right now with a certain black-skinned seraph with a stomach full of lilies and a scar splitting the back of hir skull, handing hir all those memories of you that I used to balk at and bury, watching hir hold them tenderly as gilded feathers, hir eyes glistening like rainbows at dawn, and whispering, "tell him that I remember it all, and it is a bittersweet joy to have it to remember." "But are you happy to remember it?" "Yes. Always."

So I'm wishing Ollie-- and his whole system-- a happy early birthday. I hope they keep knitting and painting and drawing and playing that wonderful trombone and doing their beautiful best at everything they put their hands and heart to. Seeing them flourish makes me so, so happy. My genuine wish is that it continues that way, and even if I can never again be a part of it, I was for a little while, and that was a blessing too. I'll always be here cheering for them from the fields nevertheless. I miss him and his partner and their cat so much some days I honestly cry. But time moves on. As a Celebi Time Lord/Lady I know that well. So we move on. I miss them and love them and I can FEEL and ACCEPT that wholeheartedly now, and so I CAN move forwards with no pain. Love makes it all joy, even this.

To them all: Thank you for being alive.

I just prayed the spiritual communion prayer on EWTN, and as I was asking Christ to "take me into His heart" and "turn me into Himself" and "unite me so closely to Him that I may never be separated from Him, even for a moment" and despite the fact that my heart and soul truly yearn for those things, as a deer pants for running streams, as a starving child hungers for bread, I realized, quite jarringly, that something in my battered soul was still scared. And I wondered, why? There's nothing scary about that! But then it hit me, all of a sudden, that I wasn't scared of Jesus. I'm scared of me.
I'm scared that I will corrupt Him.
That's impossible, literally impossible. If I am united with Christ, all the evil and stupidity and weakness in me will dissolve as totally a snowflake in a firestorm. That's a HUGE source of hope that I NEED to remind myself of when I feel like this.
But then, of course, there is that weakness of the flesh, of the ego-- that fear of "losing one's 'self'" in the process of becoming Christ, of having one's selfish identity dissolved as well, in the new identity of Christ living through us. That is a GORGEOUS hope AND truth that I also need to cling to, but of course, the body doesn't want to do it. It's scared of death, forgetting that in God, there is always a Resurrection as well. If my 'ego' dies in Christ, then it is also resurrected in Christ, but WITHOUT EVIL. It becomes purified, and FINALLY becomes the sort of 'self' I WANT it to be, and that I am sure it wants to be too. So I don't understand why it's still scared of death in that respect, scared of 'losing itself' in the process of finding itself, as it says right in the Gospel. But it flinches at the thought, and resists. It thinks that if it's gone, there's nothing-- IRONICALLY, SEEING AS I HAD D.I.D. FOR LIKE TWELVE SOLID YEARS. That was PROOF that even if one part of my psyche was totally dormant and unconscious OR even "dead," THE SOUL DOES NOT DIE, and there was always someone else to take over. But I think maybe that's the fear in my head-- that fear of being asleep while "Christ drives the car." Nevermind that that's a really touching idea, like a child, trusting in their parent totally to the point of serenely falling asleep in a moving vehicle-- but that's not what happens in Christ, that ignorant dormancy. No, when we "lose ourselves" in Christ, WE are not annihilated, but TRANSFORMED.

Something I've realized while listening to old tunes as a severe thunderstorm rolls in…

…I've forgotten what love feels like.



I'm cleaning out my old laptop and it's blowing my mind. It's breaking my heart.

Ventrium was in 2014. How in the world have SIX YEARS passed since he died up in the woods?



Back when the Lotus Cathedral System still existed, back when "I" was still Jay, when I was a man who loved with his ENTIRE HEART, honestly to an extent of sincerity and passion that boggles me, I loved so many people, SO MUCH.

I don't… I don't even know what that would feel like, now.

Why?


…It scares me. Now that I've re-found my religion, now that I'm more Catholic than ever, it's severed something in me. Which is wrong, somehow. Now that I'm religious, I have no relationships. When I do have relationships, I lose my religion.

This has to be the devil's work. There should never be such a split, in anyone's life, between Love and love. It's wrong.



I want to kiss Chaos Zero again and I don't know how and I want to weep over that but I don't know how.
Do you have any idea how awful that feels? How horrific it is to realize that my emotions are absolutely SHUT DOWN and I can't even hold this fragile gorgeous being that I've loved for LITERALLY SEVENTEEN YEARS.

…God have mercy on us what if it's trauma.
What if it's trauma. What if this all boils down to having been so utterly wrecked by sexual abuse that I am full-on terrified of so much as holding someone's hand because it might escalate into something unbearable. Because hey, that HAS happened.
But how do I get over it? Is that even the proper phrasing? How can I heal that wound, that gaping wound that I have no clue how to manage on my own, this injury that's on par with a freaking shotgun blast to the ribs that I have literally just been trying to hide under a bloodsoaked shirt? Not even medicating it, not even wrapping it up, just trying to keep it out of my own sight because the reality of it is too terrible. And after a while I guess the blood just looks normal.
But it never actually stops hurting, does it. Even if you ignore it. And once in a while something bumps it and the sudden pain overwhelms you and THEN you realize that hey, I'M DYING HERE.


In the Lotus Cathedral, I had so much love, in me and around me and everything.
I had friends. I had family. I had a daughter, for God's sake.
I had Genesis, my best friend. I had Laurie, my superego soulmate. I had Chaos Zero, my other half, as it were; my dearly beloved who I would still marry if I had the chance.
And that's the other problem.
He's, quite honestly, the only thing that would change my mind against entering the consecrated life. Like, it's either become a nun, or marry a video game character. I'm dead serious though. I'd love to have it both ways but I have no idea if that's possible, which means I have to start researching the hagiographies of married saints because God knows I cannot live like this. I absolutely cannot live with feeling like I am forced to choose between loving God and loving anyone else, because that can't be right.

…And you know how I know that?

Because, like this, I can't actually love GOD, either.


Something in me has been scraped out with a rusty razor and there's this hollow ache smack-dab in the middle of my chest that feels like sobbing and yet, I'm utterly detached from it, cut off like a guillotine to the throat. It's that "blue voice" that the BLCS used to talk about-- that sole mourning woman who lived in our heart and never stopped crying. Lamentations. She just weeps, nonstop, like you cannot imagine. The pain is unbearable. And perhaps that's exactly why we/I cannot feel it. Right now, it is unbearable.

But darn it all I WANT to bear it. I don't CARE if it rips me in half, it SHOULD, it NEEDS TO, or I swear I will NEVER be able to feel anything again.

But I cannot even walk up to Chaos Zero in headspace because if he so much as reaches out and touches my face I swear I am going to shatter into PIECES because you know what the DEEPEST problem is here?
I FEEL TOO FILTHY TO ACCEPT LOVE.

If he, this creature that I love SO MUCH I could honestly die from it, die for him, die from joy in the best circumstances-- if he cannot even look at me right now because if he does, I will crumple into agonized sobbing, there is a BIG PROBLEM and that problem is that I CAN'T PARTICIPATE IN THAT LOVE RIGHT NOW.

My sense of identity is screwed. I want to love but I am ashamed and I am AFRAID and I don't even know how to receive AFFECTION without being terrified that I've got to dissociate and perform.
How did I do it as Jay? How did I DO it? How did "he" throw himself heartfirst into everything to the point where he became this absolute light-source of love? His very presence in the System was a literal catalyst for emotional sincerity and genuine selfless compassion.
What happened to him? What happened to me? What changed, between him and me, that just… hollowed me out, and killed him? Where did he go? If I'm his "spiritual successor," if I'm literally the next step of the bloodline as it were, the next piece of "Core" history, then… why am I so broken?

Why do I feel like CANNON all over again? Ten years ago or more? Marywood, 2009? Waking up to trauma and wishing I were dead? Well, there you go.


I don't hate S. (I will not call them by their "chosen name" because my faith prioritizes the name they were given, legally and originally, the person they were before dissociating.) And I want to be their friend. But truly I don't know if I ever knew them, either. Because when I was living in North Carolina I was either talking to Oliver or Kris or Kyo or… gosh I don’t even remember their names anymore. But it felt jagged, broken, confused. So did I. It feels wrong, even now talking about it, like choking on dirty dishwater. It feels filthy and sick. I can't look at it; I want to throw up and cry and scream and curl up and die.

And that's what I feel whenever I try to feel love, now.

That ugly ugly stuff is getting in the way. It's shame, to the point of crushing mountains, heavier than a dying star. It's apocalyptic shame, the sort that WILL annihilate you if you don't get a handle on it.

Where does God come into this?

I'm a Catholic, okay? I'm a Christian. And I do love God. But how genuine is my love if I'm having this problem with EVERYTHING ELSE?

Yesterday was Easter. We just got through Holy Week and I spent Good Friday night standing outside in my pajamas, the wind howling and snow whipping around my dirty head, crying hysterically that I was scared to death because I knew how sinful I was and I KNEW I was sorry, I KNEW I didn't want to sin or do wrong or hurt anyone or offend Jesus, ever, but I couldn't feel anything about it. My mind was confessing contrition with frankly panic-stricken sincerity, but my emotional capacity was bankrupt. There was no feeling behind the words, and THAT is TERRIFYING as a Christian because hey, does that mean I'm actually sorry at all?
God help me, I'm not sure what to do about this.

I need to be broken open. I need my heart to be shattered to flipping PIECES because honestly that is probably the ONLY WAY I'm going to get this hardness out of me.
I need to make a playlist of all the most wrenching love songs I know, and I need to go talk to Chaos Zero and not run away, and stay there for like a solid hour even if I spend most of that time sobbing. God knows that alone is progress, because I cannot even CRY right now, not without immediately reaching for a knife.

…God, where is Laurie?

Now THAT thought kills me. God I miss her, so much I actually am tearing up right now. And that's always been her saving grace-- she was always isolated from the potential horror of romance, always separate from the idea of being a partner or anything of the sort. She was always just my white knight, my soldier, my protector, my friend. And THAT is safe.
But NC tried to murder her in that respect. Oliver and the rest of the Broken Arrows wanted to be in a "romantic relationship" with her and her VERY EXISTENCE STOOD AT TOTAL ODDS TO THAT VERY CONCEPT.
She did die from it, I know. I remember. They all died. But… the Spectrum can be reborn, truly, in Christ as it must be, as it truly needs to be. She's Laurel now, or Lauriel, I can't quite tell; she's unstable, but she's alive. Somewhere, somehow. And she's safe again, untouchable, ineffable, real only because OF that. Unblemished, undefiled, virginal.

That’s the problem with everyone else that I love.
Laurie is the ONLY PERSON who has basically decreed to the point of spitting blood that she will NEVER, and CAN never, be a danger to me in that respect. She can never be romantic, she can never be intimate, she can never be sexual.
And that is THE ONLY REASON WHY SHE IS SAFE and that is also the MAIN REASON WHY I AM TERRIFIED TO EVEN GO LOOK FOR HER, because I believe that I am tainted and ruined and if I so much as look at her I will kill her.

…

The problem isn't everyone else. The problem is me.
I'm afraid to hold Chaos Zero because I'm afraid I'll ruin him. That's why I want to die and weep forever when I look at him, because I can feel this awful WRONGNESS in me and God knows I never want that to touch him.


…Love is only safe in the League, somehow.
I NEED to remember that.
And that is ALSO why I'm so FURIOUS on some level for S trying to steal it. For YEARS, the ONLY refuge from my trauma has been remembering the pure, chaste, genuine love between individuals in the League, notably in Dream World, but when S touched it, they CORRUPTED IT. They made it sexual and honestly I want to RAGE AND WEEP over that. I am absolutely BENT on making a website in the near future to attest to the TRUTH of the League and I need to like put that on a poster and glue it to my eyeballs so I am DRIVEN to work towards that end EVERY DAY.

That's slightly off-topic. And yet it's not. Because I'm listening to Kreva and when you drop the pitch on his voice to 80% he sounds like Xorane and he's singing about Devonal and those two genuinely adore each other AND YET SO MANY PEOPLE CAN'T SEE THAT IN A PURE SENSE. Because they're two guys, people assume they're gay, and then assume they're being licentious, promiscuous, immoral. NOPE. NOPE AND NEVER EVER, NO HOW.
But that's what makes me so angry. S ALSO jumped on the illicit and utterly disgusting idea that Justice & Revenge were INCESTUOUS??? And they were OBSESSED with it. And NOW Revenge's basic SELF has been SHATTERED in the League and I can feel it frantically trying to rebuild him but it doesn't know HOW because those corruptive imposed ideas got too deeply ingrained in there and things need to be ripped up and COMPLETELY rewritten but God I can't do that to my own life.

I can't rip up and rebuild. I'm stuck carrying this timeline.
But… there's the bit, the one tiny crack in my armor where the light gets in, the fracture straight above my heart, that says "if the only way I could protect the love I've known is by carrying that agony as well, then I will carry it until I die."
And that's Jay's voice.
And that makes me want to cry.

I want to be Jay again. I want to be whatever he was that made him so pure and loving and good. He was just… incandescent. He was iridescent. He was JOY, and he was only that because he was also LOVE.

…Can I even be that? How?



Hey! Here's another sudden thought.
I can GIVE love, at least conceptually, in imagining third person images of myself, BUT! I cannot imagine myself RECEIVING love. Like, the idea of someone looking at ME, or kissing me, is genuinely TERRIFYING and makes me want to run and hide and cry like a panicked child, shaking and confused and so, so, so sad. And that is obviously trauma residue.


Here's an interesting thought.
There are very few people in the League or in the Spectrum who can hold intimacy, or rather, raw emotion. Like, there are very few people who can be stripped down to bare their heart and blood and wounds and still stand. Lots of folks are too scared, too hardened, too afraid, et cetera. But some of them aren't. And those people are the ones who can look at you with eyes that are just like… holy fire. Untouchable, unbreakable, undying… but so bright. It's not a hard light. It's bright, so bright, but it's somehow so soft. It's fierce but it's tender. And those words are terrifying to someone like me who, currently, cannot bare their wounds because they are too awful. But some people… the sort of person I want and need to be… the sort of person that, honestly, hopefully, gloriously, anyone can become, God's grace willing… some people-- like Jesus, quite blatantly-- can have their hearts torn open and they will STILL gently wear those scars and let you TOUCH them. That sort of absolute invincible tenderness is staggering. And, as Jay, I used to be like that. I need to be like that again.
Chaos Zero is like that. Honestly, he is the MOST like that of anyone I have EVER known. In my entire life I don't think I have EVER seen him closed off. If he tries, he melts almost immediately. Really, it's utterly against his very nature to have a closed heart. And I love that about him. I love him. And honestly… he deserves to be with someone like him in that sense. To say otherwise would be cruelty. You cannot pair up such a raw heart with a hard one. If I want to be with him-- and I do, God knows I do, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in the darkest of times, in the face of death even-- I do, I do want to be with him but my heart has to melt like his first.
Or it needs to be set on fire.

What is my personal element, now? Oh geez maybe THAT'S the issue????
The Jewel bloodline has always been fire. But Jewel, infamously, was somehow NEVER able to be soft like Jay. It's shocking. Jay's element was snow and LIGHT. Sparkles and softness and purity and white joy.
If I… if I redefine myself, if I maybe even start a new bloodline, find a new name… maybe I can soften? Maybe this weird brown-haired stone-heart earth-shackled girl I feel damned to be can change, can essentially redefine herself by what her soul is, truly, I know. I am not this reflection. I am what God created me to be and that is a child of God and that is someone who loves and rejoices and shines HIS Light through her life. And I cannot do that if I'm an inert pebble here.
I need to be light and snowflakes again. I need to find a new name.

So there we go, that's thoughts for today. It's almost noon and that thunderstorm is still rolling in and hey, maybe instead of panicking over it I'll bravely bare my heart a little and ask Laurie to join me in watching that beautiful powerful act of God outside. Lightning like her. Thunder like her words in my heart. Rain like my beloved's tears. All three of us, Genesis too with the wind, and then what am I?
"You're the hope that ties it all together," I feel her say. "You're the rainbow after the storm. You're the hope of sunshine when it's all over."
"But I don't want it to be all over," I say, a real twinge of loving sadness pulling at my chest like a guzheng string, pulling it into a vibrato. "Not if it's you. Even if it's scary, if it's you, I want it to stay."
"Even if you're scared?" A knowing voice. A hint of a purple smile.
"Yeah." I mean it, despite my trembling hands.
"And why is that?"
"…because I love you."
"And there you go," she says, throwing her own hands open in a victorious gesture, smiling, looking away a little, as if it was too bright a feeling to bear head-on. "There you go. That's how you get through this. Love."
And she looks right at me.
"You hold on to that, kid. No matter what. Promise me you will."
I nod.
"I'm still scared."
"'Course you're still scared, you're afraid to look love in the face. Embrace it, kid. Even if it hurts. Even if it's a crown of thorns. You've gotta hold it to your heart or it's not gonna carry you through the storm."


Be my light to others, child.
God is love, and love is God, and love is light unending, undefeatable.
There is always a sun behind the clouds, even in the worst of storms.
Fear not. I am with you always.
I love you too.

One of the things "TBAS" said to me after I moved back home was that I "used to be compassionate/ creative/ etc." and that's been haunting me.
Why has that allegedly changed now?

My old journal was very solipsistic. I gave very little thought to God at all-- well, at least after high school-- and I was honestly drowning in mental illness.


But now, I don't type at all. Why?
Honestly it's because I just… feel no desire at all to type about myself anymore. I'd rather read the Bible, study it, learn from Scripture instead of babbling about my own personal experiences. What good has that honestly done?


I cleaned out the entire LC folder today. Deleted hundreds of files.
And, listening to old audio files… it shocked me. How did I live like that?
It's all, quite obviously now, self-worship.

march 7th 2018:
the day after we were mugged.
the day we finally realized we weren't actually living after all.


THE REASON WHY WE CAME HOME SO FAST AFTER VISITING GRANDPA
IS BECAUSE
OLIVER MADE US LEAVE ALL OUR ARTWORK THERE WITH HIM.
AS A "PROMISE" THAT WE WOULD COME BACK.

…

I want to sob forever at how stupid we were.
But, finally, finally, I can forgive myself for leaving.

I forgot. I forgot. I am so sorry.

In church today, the System woke back up.

Last night, I dreamt about Chaos 0 and I getting married.

Today was a miserable day, full of sickness, but the eating disorder symptoms highlighted the root of the problem-- it's a dissociative forcing habit. It's because I "don't exist" when I'm eating. It's a sort of "death"; a suicide stand-in. I don't want to kill myself, and I don't want to die, but apparently part of my mind is terrified of living, and is taking a halfway step with this.

I'm really, really depressed today. I'm having a religious-existential crisis again and I just want to cry. I'm scared. I want to die but I don't. I really need to type this out.

Since the disaster of NC, I've had a lot to think about, notably these things:
1. Realizing how easily I can pretend to be someone I'm not, to make someone else "happy."
2. Realizing that I am not transgendered, but my "alters" were.
...

I don’t hate TBAS. I love them, but their lifestyle is unhealthy for me, and living with them did not allow me to question or analyze myself in comparison to that.


Things that I constantly see on Tumblr that confuse and frighten me because I don't understand:
1. "Christian witches"
2. LGBTQIA+ individuals insisting that "Jesus was gay/ trans*/ etc." when I feel it is blasphemous to focus on His "sexual orientation"
3.




I'm afraid of sex. I admit that.
I do not want it. It is a frightening, painful thing.

I have no idea whether or not I'm "attracted" to anyone or if it's all societal programming.
I can say folks are "handsome" or "pretty" but the thought of marrying someone, having children with them, etc. is terrifying to me still. I love people, but that sort of sexual relationship is alien to me.

I don't know what happened to my relationship with Chaos Zero.
I want to weep just typing that. (I am. Two seconds and I'm in heartrending tears.)
I still dream about him, all the time.

I gave my plush doll of him to TBAS and I waited on that for weeks because I couldn't bear to let go of it. But my heart said, "don't become attached to material things. Don't focus your love on an object, for anyone or anything. Love in spirit, the way God wants you to love Him, and all things." In other words, "Love the person in the photograph so truly that if the photo was burned you would not cry."

I'm still weeping.
I haven't spoken much to anyone "in headspace" since moving back out here, because I realized too late that the way we were functioning in NC was utterly contrary to our mode of existence. We were NEVER MEANT TO FRONT. And we were NEVER MEANT TO BE "HUMAN." We were never meant to "live as individuals" outside of our soul and the fact that we felt obligated to for over a year basically murdered us.

Which reminds me. One of the few things I remember reading on TBAS's journal recently-- as I did log on a few times to check on them-- was them having a sort of personal "epiphany" that I, as the Lotus Cathedral, was "not special" as a System-- that Lynne was "just an orange girl," that Laurie was "just a punk-type person," etc.
And… when I read that, I literally laughed out loud, and cried with relief.
If THAT is how they saw us, then THEY NEVER KNEW US AT ALL.
That… that's such a blatantly absolute misunderstanding of our System's very HEART. Lynne was NEVER a "girl who liked violins"-- she was a personification of femininity and our lost future AS a woman who was expected to be a musician. She was NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE "A GIRL." Similarly, Laurie was NEVER just someone "who liked axes"-- she was a personification of our love=pain complex and she carried that heavy weapon to BEHEAD US for our sins. Lynne became orange as her role became more joyful, and Laurie became purple as her role became less bitter. EVERYTHING ABOUT US IS SPIRITUAL and the very thought that we were, at any time, even able to live as "physical people" is actually personally nauseating because it stands in such total opposition to our purpose. And to realize, suddenly, that TBAS never realized that, that they wanted us to "live as a System" in the way THEY did, in the world… suddenly we understood why they treated us so bizarrely according to our criteria, why we never truly got along deep down, why we never truly saw eye to eye-- and why we had to DEVELOP SOCIALS TO PLAY THOSE ROLES WHILE WE WERE IN NC. We wondered for ages why the Socials suddenly became the main folks fronting-- but we never realized that it was because ONLY SOCIALS ARE EVEN SUPPOSED TO FRONT, and if TBAS was expecting us to "live OUTWARDLY as a multiple," then it was literally inevitable that ONLY THE SOCIALS COULD DO THAT.
So we broke. We were no longer able to live inside, to live as us, and we became something totally new and unhealthy and thankfully temporary in order to fit TBAS's criteria instead. I see that now, and it allows me to-- at the most general level, but nevertheless-- forgive us both for our absolutely blind and ignorant and blind and appeasing and insincere behavior, because neither of us even realized who the other person WAS.
So I can let go of that totally now, again, bit by bit, because I can see that whoever I was with TBAS was not the true me and I never knew the true them, either, as a result. The key to forgiveness is Christ's prayer-- "for they know not what they do"-- and truly, we didn't. So that moves me to sad compassion, and motivates me to never repeat that mistake of ignorance in the future. May I have the grace to see when I am committing such huge wrongs in blindness, so that I may STOP and AMEND my life immediately.


Oh, by the way. TBAS also, at some point, made a comment that we were "like Justice" (the Jewel Monster) but we only read like, one line into that sentence, because similarly to the above, as soon as we began to read their explanation it hit us like a truck that THEY HAD NO IDEA WHAT THEY WERE SAYING. And I laughed because oh my gosh THEY NEVER KNEW THE FULL STORY. They never knew!! No wonder every time "Revenge" came out in their System our stomach turned and we felt like angrily sobbing-- it's because he was born from a COMPLETELY FALSE IDEA OF NOT ONLY HIS PERSON, BUT HIS HISTORY.
The file that TBAS latched onto about him was written by a hacker for the EXPLICIT PURPOSE OF SKEWING THEIR RELATIONSHIP so that hackers could make us think that ALL relationships were sexual. They did this with LOTS of Leagueworlds at the time, and we have since purged ALL of that terrifying slander, including that DW file that, for unknown reasons, was kept.
But not only that, TBAS had no idea how the original Justice/Revenge event ENDED. I saw it all at once in 2005 while listening to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, and it basically went like this… Justice had an "alter ego" named Revenge that was born as a result of his being exposed to the corrupt "justice" in the human world, which he had entered AS A PROPHET
to try and call people to repentance, a la the Bible. But Justice got confused and corrupted in the process because he ISOLATED himself there, gradually starving off his roots to his World, and messing him up in the same way any Christian would be messed up if they stopped going to Mass. Anyway, Devonexx-- the Dream World version of Satan-- was also visiting the human world to try and do the opposite of Justice-- trying to corrupt people's minds and kill those who opposed him and all sorts of awful things-- and in that process he found Justice, who was now emitting a dual Virtue/Vice signature as he corrupted, but this duality is a RARE and DANGEROUS occurrence in a Jewel Monster because as long as it is dual, SO IS THEIR SELF. So he found Justice, and cruelly "overloaded" him with Vicious energy (which is a thing you can do in canon), to try and force him "over the fence" and lock his signature into a Vice. WHICH HE SUCCEEDED IN DOING-- and there was Revenge. HOWEVER. Such an awful event could not happen without the DW Guardians finding out, so the WHOLE GANG was there trying to stop him-- and so was Jewel Lightraye with the FIRST SYSTEM OUTSPACERS-- Bakura and Marik. SERIOUSLY. So when Justice became Revenge, they ALL tried to talk him out of it, by attesting to virtue and light and love and truth, but REVENGE WOULDN'T LISTEN. Remember he was a CORRUPTION OF JUSTICE so his entire mindset is based upon mangling the truth. His existence was born of a hopeless frustrated fear of seeing such evil in the world and wondering "why do the good suffer from such evil" WITHOUT FAITH IN GOD'S JUSTICE AND MERCY. As a result Justice got pushed into the vice of despair, and despair led to self-hatred, and self-hatred led to rage, and rage led to vengeance, and suddenly this force for equity and righteousness became a force for destroying "hopelessly" sinful people instead of patiently, sacrificially helping them convert. And of COURSE Devonexx wanted to take advantage of this. But Revenge REFUSED. He was still a CORRUPTION of a Virtue, not a born Vice, and so he saw no fellowship with a being who wanted to kill for the sake of malice. No, Revenge was twisted enough to want to kill "because they brought that judgment upon themselves." And he HATED HIMSELF FOR FEELING THIS WAY. He had been pushed out of faith into fear and now he convinced himself he had no choice but this awful role-- BUT! NOW THE GUARDIANS ARE HERE! And they all FOUGHT him with everything they were, the whole time NOT HURTING HIM, but trying to show him as much of THEIR faith and hope and love and mercy and patience and forgiveness as possible, trying to push him BACK into virtue, trying to clarify to him what Justice truly was-- and guess what? IT WORKED. At the end of the battle, when EVERYONE BUT REVENGE AND DEVONEXX WAS DOWN FOR THE COUNT, and it looked like evil had won, Revenge realized that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, and he REVERTED. Yes, that was never written down, but JUSTICE RETURNED TO HIMSELF. And then do you know what he did?
HE KICKED THE DEVIL'S BUTT.
I am serious. I remember writing down that "Justice is the most powerful Jewel Monster in existence" BECAUSE of this-- because when he came to his senses, he turned and looked at Devonexx with a burning desire to do good and atone for his sins at any cost, and used an ability which he called "Prayer of Martyrdom"-- a massive outpouring of virtuous energy that was so intense that it basically would kill him. But Justice decided that it was worth it. So yeah, not only did this Prayer revive the Guardians through its immense Good, but it knocked Devonexx into submission, which NO ONE HAD EVER DONE BEFORE IN ALL OF DREAM WORLD HISTORY (then and now). When the smoke cleared, Devonexx dragged himself back to the Nightmare World where he spent months in recovery, and Justice himself fell to the ground, literally breathing his last. But Maitru was there, and as the Guardian of Love, she was NOT gonna let that happen, so she dragged him back to the Dream World where he spent months in recovery, haha.
But yeah. TBAS never knew the full story and even though the plot did change in recent years, the changes were never fully written down, which is something I don't think TBAS EVER realized. Honestly, like… I'd be surprised if 50% of ALL Leagueworld info was written down. The vast majority of it is in my heart and in my head alone. But yeah, this, too, showed me that TBAS never knew the truth, from no active fault of their own, and so I forgive them for their blatant misunderstandings and misinterpretations, which made me sick and scared and sad for many many months, because I, too, didn't understand that they were working from a foundation of falsehood. Which, in a way, is entirely my fault, for not standing up FOR the truth and informing them of it. The problem is I don't know how aware I was OF that false foundation back then, with how I constantly flailed to "make them happy at any cost to myself", let alone how willing I'd be TO "shatter their introject's very roots" as a result. I know we did effectively TRY to in the beach house, and the absolute "I cannot live like this anymore" despair that wracked our bones in that duvet bed still hurts. But it's forgiven. I don't remember any details, or words, or outcomes, or instigations. All I know is that it's over and now I can see why it happened at all and I can, with a relieved smile and forgiving laugh, wash that pain away. Consider it absolved, by the grace of God, even if it still stings a little, like a bruise. Don't bump it, then, and it will heal, I promise. We're all getting our hearts bandaged up today.

But yeah. More than anything, my time with TBAS showed me what I am not, as opposed to what they thought I was. And that was a SCARY revelation, but it was VITAL. It shook me up so badly, that it took months to fully face it, and then months to fully accept it, and then months to fully act on it… I'm still learning and growing, and I do deeply regret most of what I said and did out there, in my absolute dizzied ignorance and kowtowing. But like I said, I, too, had my foundation revealed as utterly false-- and now I can put Christ into that cornerstone position for good, pun intended. I don't think He ever was before, which is scary. And yet, would I have ever realized THAT if I hadn't been utterly broken down and shaken up and ruined and ravaged and humiliated and humbled by my time in NC? Probably not! It had its purpose, and now I can rebuild, slowly, just like Notre Dame after the fire. Just like it.


---


We needed a System reset for years and we got the biggest one imaginable.
Everything is dead. Everything is razed to the ground, burned flat and blacked-out, annihilated to the last speck. Except Laurie's still here. Except I saw Knife the other day. Except Genesis ghosted twice within the past two months or so. Except I can still feel their hearts, weak but real, distant but extant, even now.

Except I don't want to be "multiple" in the way TBAS was "multiple" anymore.

I want it all to go back to the way it was in high school, and college-- just me out front, and everyone else helping inside.
There were too many of us. We got too tangled-up in trauma and fractured beyond function.

Now what?

Can I be a good Catholic, devoted to Christ and His Gospel, and be multiple?

Can I be in aching, ardent, abiding love with a fictional character and still be a good Catholic?

What if part of my soul is queer, and transgender, and all those other things that "go against nature?" What if my soul used to be broken into hundreds of pieces and all those pieces loved each other and sought their common highest good at any cost, no matter how much pain we had to struggle through, no matter how long
it took or how many times we fell disastrously and had to drag ourselves back up through the mud again?

I don't know what to do.

I think I was living a better Catholic life when I was multiple than I am now.
That's the long and short of it.

Whatever we became in North Carolina was shockingly toxic and it was NOT the real us.
Whatever we became as a result of hyperfocus on trauma exposure therapy was disgustingly self-annihilatory and it is NOT the real us.
The latter defined the former and I want to avoid that ever happening again.




I wept earlier, in the bathroom, drying my hair and looking at my sunken cheeks, over how much I missed the ocean, and how bitter I surprisingly was over how my beach trip in SC last year was "hijacked" by dishonesty and circumstance.
Because of TBAS's unfortunately controlling love at the time, I could not let go and live; I could not enjoy my time there, could not just be, could not relax and drink it all in… except for that one afternoon, that one blessed afternoon, lying alone on the beach, smelling the salt air and writing in that aqua notebook, the sun caressing my back. That one experience, that sacred time, is what I miss, and what I yearn to re-experience.

...



I'm typing in old Leagueworld notes into my computer and, just like it's been for years, the process is deeply depressing. I know why, now-- in most of it, there's no focus on God. There's no center in Christ. Yes, every Leagueworld does have religious tones and roots, but it became so garbled and miscommunicated over time, that it was no longer fitting to be considered good Catholic media. THAT is why I began to "hate my creative work"-- because my soul recognized that what I was creating was EMPTY and ultimately PURPOSELESS. This is also why I got cripplingly depressed in NC whenever I attempted to work on the League-- because TBAS didn't want to acknowledge the ancient fact that even when it fell short, it was all SUPPOSED to focus on CHRIST OUR GOD.
So I'm restoring that, unflinchingly and obviously. For some Worlds, it's wonderfully easy-- like Dream World and Hokthai-- but others, like Oneircia, Mage Angels, and Voltage, got their inherent and integral religious content corrupted by new-age sources and confusion and misinformation. Others, like Puppetstrings and E*Girls, were always so stuck in magic-related ideas that they never spoke to Christianity and that NEEDS to change. So I'm working on that now and I have total faith that it will restore my joy in these Worlds I've been blessed to have created through the grace of Christ sharing His creative powers through me-- for HIS SAKE!! That's the ultimate reminder. It is ALL FOR HIM, or it is all for nothing.

...


I'm also disturbed by how much psychological & spiritual disease is apparent in these old writings, speaking volumes as to my current struggles and my old sins.
For example, Parnassus is a rape nightmare at its very core, or at least, it was. And a lot of character personality notes-- liars, thieves, manipulators, sociopaths, strategizers, philosophers, you name it-- say a lot about the ugly sides of my personality as well, frighteningly so as most of this is from when I was like 14, 15. And believe me, I know how much evil was swarming in me then. Look at the roots of the System.
So this requires a lot of humility and self-inspection, to review. It's making me feel the need to take a "merciless moral inventory" and see just how much of this is still lurking in me actively, and how much has been crucified with Christ. Yes, it's a daily struggle against sin and will be until I die, but it's deeply reassuring to see how many of these points have been "dormant" for years, and by the grace of God will remain so.

And I wonder how much of that got into the System. Remember how, years ago, I was considering making a list of "League/System Character Archetypes" because the same personality "cores" seemed to keep repeating, especially within the same colors? Like Laurie and Picayune and Monika (all Indigo at the time), like Waldorf and Preludove and Hosanna (all Blue), like Lynne and Pagotamiar and Psyche (all Orange)? And even the color shifts speak to this- like how Laurie is now brilliantly Purple, and resonates now with Bastion and Psyquatro and Emepsyche in that regard. It's all being drawn from my soul, ultimately, by God. And so I'd like to review this deeper, and see how many attributes do indeed echo across it all, to gain a clearer view of my self, for that is truly what I am looking into, as into a mirror… and to then see how much of that reflection needs to be cleaned up, so it reflects Christ more.

That fact is also what was the finalizing factor in my "integrating" most of my multiplicity after returning home to PA last October. If those hundreds of alters, splinters and introjects and all, are ultimately part of me, then why in the world would I want to exist in such a fragmented sense anymore?
Living with TBAS and seeing that fragmentation firsthand was the strongest factor in that decision, though, I have to admit. Seeing it firsthand showed me, beyond all doubt, just how unhealthy it was. Seeing them displaying their symptoms convinced me that I never wanted to live like that again if I could help it. This is not to say that all of their condition is harmful-- they, too, had many benevolent alters-- but at its roots, their multiplicity was just as traumatized and ill as mine was, and living with that on both sides of my eyeballs for a year was almost more than I could bear. My multiplicity symptoms became less and less as time went on, and I became less and less willing to enforce and exaggerate them for TBAS's "entertainment", or rather, to match the "image" they had of me as someone who was "inherently" multiple, according to THEIR experience of it. That sudden breakage in function is what destroyed my System, and ironically, is also what freed me from its gilded chains. I cut off contact with TBAS in October and at the same time I cut myself off from that jail of a past, to stumble painfully but hopefully into a new future as a single person, as the girl God created, learning how to live at last.

So that's where I am now.
I don't have all the answers-- heck, I don't feel like I have any right now.
God does, but He doesn't hand them out easily. Divine Silence is a thing, as is Divine Mystery, and walking by Faith instead of sight. Above and within it all is Divine Love. Paradoxically, beautifully, that is the answer. If I strive to walk in His Love, then I don't need literal language answers-- Love IS the answer. (Thanks Todd Rundgren.)

And that brings us back to square one.

The Blood Lotus Cathedral was built to love. Yes, even though it had ugly trauma roots and branches, at the end of the day, we were always just trying so hard to love.
But our love had the WRONG ORIGIN AND END. I see that now. If Love isn't both FROM AND FOR GOD, then it's not really love. That is a hard pill to swallow but it is life-saving medicine.




...
I have to revisit the gender topic again, briefly.

I have "misgendered" people in this journal in the past, meaning that I referred to them with pronouns that match their birth sex, whereas they insisted I do otherwise.
I cannot, in good conscience, do this. I don't understand sex and gender very well at all, and I want to write about that more, but the bottom line is that I strongly believe that biological sex and gendered pronouns should be analogous. Intersex people are the obvious exception to this rule, and Judaism itself speaks of this in the Talmud, but I do not have that education so I cannot elaborate on it here. However, biology does seem to have the strongest say as to pronouns in most cases. And I agree with that, because I believe that although God Himself transcends gender, the binary nature of gender is intrinsic to Creation and is VITAL to it, as it is the basis of creative unity. Chromosomal errors that result in intersex conditions are a symptom of imperfection in fallen nature BUT it's just an error, not a condemnation. It happens, in humans and butterflies and cardinals too. It happens, but in the Book of Genesis we see how the original plan of Creation was-- clear differentiation between two complimentary sexes.
Again, God is both above and within all this. We call Him our "Father" because that is the role He took to our ancestors, although He also refers to Himself in feminine terms and motherly analogies, because that is just as true and accurate! God is our Mother as well as our Father. Legal gender influenced the male pronouns throughout history, I would believe, but that does not nullify the all-encompassing nature of God-- and the fact that He/She/Xe/They/etc. are the very Source and Definition of Love, no matter what, and therefore love us no matter what. This does not mean that God approves of transgenderism, though, in the case of someone denying their birth sex based on personal preferenece or feelings.

And yes, Jesus does speak of "eunuchs" in Matthew 19, but IN THE CONTEXT OF CHASTITY AND CELIBACY.

(Jesus replied, “Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning. I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery.”
The disciples said to him, “If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry.”
Jesus replied, “Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. For there are eunuchs who were born that way, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others—and there are those who choose to live like eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it.”)

"It is better not to marry" followed by a discussion of eunuchs STRONGLY implies that those who do not adhere to the binary-- those "born that way," as intersex, and those "made that way" through genital manipulation-- are GROUPED with those "who choose [to live as eunuchs]," such as vowed celibates, and ALL THESE PEOPLE SHOULD STAY UNMARRIED AND CHASTE. So in my understanding, if you are born with OR 'develop' a mental state where you are unable or unwilling to match the sexual binary, then you should NOT DO SEXUAL THINGS because SEX REQUIRES THE BINARY. Simple as that.

As for pronouns, I feel that if one is willing to humble themselves enough to practice this gift of celibacy, however challenging it may be, then they should be equally humble enough to use, or at least accept, the pronouns that fit their legal gender. We should avoid all possibilities of scandalizing others, such as crossdressing, and I think pronouns fall very obviously into this. Humans struggle with sexual sin. We must be careful to respect the souls of others by not setting up obstacles and pitfalls for them through our treatment of sexuality, however "innocent" we may feel our intentions are.

But back to the beginning. Because of this I refuse to call someone by pronouns other than those that match their biology, if it is known. This should not be an issue if our culture respected societal gender roles more clearly, which it does not. To quote Pope Francis, "biological sex and the socio-cultural role of sex (gender) can be distinguished but not separated." We should always respect this connection.
And honestly, if it's difficult for a person to respect this, isn't that a cross? Isn't that a sin that we need to die to, to crucify so we can be reborn in Christ? Isn't disrespect, and disobedience, and all other sorts of contention, inherently sinful, as it does not rest in faith and humility? If someone feels socially male but was born a woman, wouldn't their cross be to accept their birth sex and pray for the grace to live according to it, OR to "choose to live as a eunuch," as Christ Himself offered as an option? That's what I'm doing. I was born female, but I know that I cannot properly act as a wife, and I have prayed EXTENSIVELY about this. I choose to be a eunuch for Christ, living an unmarried chaste life, while respecting my societal duties as a female, and always humbly adhering to them when I am aware of them (especially in dress).

I will admit, I sinned horribly against this in the past, by NOT respecting sex and gender and chastity and humility. I must admit this openly as it is very very hard to forgive myself some days, as I "should have known better." And indeed I should have, but I didn't. I was lost, I was confused, I was ignorant, I was out of my mind, I was shoving every ounce of my personality and morality under the rug for the sake of "tolerance" and "people-pleasing" and "healing." Unfortunately, no labels will ever make a sin not a sin. And the consequences will ALWAYS speak loudly and unquestionably to that fact, which they did.

Homosexual behavior is always sinful, EVEN if motivated by "love," because homosexual behavior disrespects the role of sexuality in creation and therefore it DOES NOT LOVE GOD. So no matter how much you may love another person, choosing to give into lust "for love" IS ALWAYS SINFUL. Lust is a deadly sin, no matter what your sexuality is, and EVERYONE should be diligent in rooting it out. This carries heavier weight for homosexual individuals because, in choosing to act upon that disordered inclination, they are refusing to keep lust in check. Love can be expressed ENTIRELY WITHOUT SEX, and the simple fact that anyone, straight or gay or otherwise, would refuse to accept that fact in all battles against lust, shows that they are still a slave to their flesh. Just because you identify as homosexual, you don't need to act upon it. Same thing with all other abnormalities of sexuality. Just don't do it. Pray for the grace. Love still exists, and Love will help you.


Back to this topic.
I'm a "she" but I used to be part of a "they" which also included "he" and "it" and "xe" and other such messes of gender nonconformity. And I need to look at that, seriously so. As a woman, what does it say, for part of my mind to have previously split into identities of differing gender? I can answer that-- it was because I rejected my biology and societal role at an early age, proudly and ignorantly and unwisely and foolishly, but I did. So in a mess, my mind missed the easy fix, and instead formed a muddle of genders that were all so loosely defined and fluid and overlapping that they effectively deleted the very meaning and significance of gender itself-- which, effectively, was also the case, as we all identified as "genderless" in the end, regardless of pronouns. But ironically, THAT TESTIFIED TO THE TRUTH. Because in the end we ALL could narrow it down to the binary, one way or another. And it's such a relief. There are no more mental gymnastics in an effort to justify some rebellious idea. We have peace, now. Our hearts are simple.

Again, though, our System needs to heal still, even if only in "hindsight"-- I don't know if we do or can still exist as multiple, but I can at least analyze the gender aspect of it now and heal the mutations. But that's for another entry.

The one point I keep getting dragged back to, what with the whole gender & sexuality issue, is unavoidably, my 15-year several-self relationship with Chaos Zero.

...


(left unfinished)

 

SESSION PARTICIPANTS
LAURIE UBERICH JESS??



Kid…

Laurie--!!

…We live in a secular world and it's shit. This is literally its own encapsulated hell. I want outta here.

How?

Easy. Redefine our roots. Something. Build on a different foundation, heh. What's that prayer you say every day now? The Psalm at 12 o' clock, I think.

I think it's None, actually. "If the Lord does not build the house for us, its builders labor in vain…"

Yeah, yeah that's the one! And you always think of me. "It is vain for you to rise before the dawn, and go late to your rest, eating the bread of toil… to those he loves, the Lord gives sleep." And then it talks about kids.

Yeah.

…Kid, girl, Jess, whoever you are.

All of those things. And Jewel, deep down at heart.

A new one, though. A new one. Pinkish, somehow. Not the original Klonoa-haired girl. She's too… manic. And I can feel the red rubbing you the wrong way with its brashness and brazenness. You're… pink. Soft. Gentle. But strong, too, somehow. Like a sunrise. "Here, look at this indomitable beauty from God." You wanna testify to that in your every heartbeat. You wanna shine like that. That's what you are. I can feel it.

That means a lot. I only want to glorify God, I'm sick of pride and selfishness and indulgence.

Kid, I know, that shit's exhausting and useless the way it is.

Qoheleth. "Vanity of vanities, all things are vanity!"

Didn't you say that struck you as a kid?

Don't you remember it? That feels like it has your roots in it somewhere. Purple and Violet stuff.

Is that color theory still legit in your new life?

As long as it glorifies God, and brings us all closer to Him, and helps us trueheartedly serve Him alone in our works, and in others, and the like. So, potentially, yes it can, and it should, because anything that doesn't is unreal and will be and should be destroyed.

Heck yes, I can agree with that.

By the way, you need to stop using profanity.

I know. Been trying for years. Gotta try real hard now, I daresay.

Same with overcoming this eating disorder.

Easier said than done?

Ironically, no. Faith makes all things heart-meltingly easy, even enthusiastically so. But without faith…

It's impossible.

Exactly. Hold on, gotta take a break and help grandma with her eyedrops.

Kid, actually, put this on hold for now. It's 7:30 and you gotta go to bed for 8 and we've got to try harder than ever tomorrow, to heal, and grow, and love. And we've gotta talk about this Broken Arrows stuff once we read more of the old entries. Are we gonna restore the archives?

I have no idea. Should we?

Dunno, kid. Pray about it.

Will do.

Have a good night, Jess. We love you. I love you. Let us help you serve God in the way you need to. God knows we need to, too.

I love you all too, sincerely, and I am truly deeply thankful that God brought us all together in life, whatever and however we are. I love you too, Laurie. Good night.

Good night, kid. See you tomorrow.

my soul has been corrupted here.

I realized it tonight. we were thinking of how much we missed going to church, going to eucharistic adoration, singing in the choir… and that STUPID BRAINLESS SOCIAL MODE THAT WAS BUILT FOR NC started thinking "no, no I don’t miss that" SHUT UP YOU NEVER EXPERIENCED IT YOU SELFISH WITCH

I hate this romance junk. I hate this relationship thing except I don’t and we really do care for OV but I'm sorry I just CANT STAND THIS SIMPERING ACT HE DOES SOMETIMES "are you okay" "I love you" "come be close to me" what the heck this is the SAME BLOODY THING Q DID they were both wonderful good people but we painted ugly ugly lying false pictures of them because we HATED this touchy feely hell and they did nothing wrong. they did nothing wrong.

my family
we miss our family so agonizingly much oh dear god we miss them so much
BUT OV thinks THEY'RE evil too because we've LIED. we've LIED and said horrible untrue toxic whiny cruel things about them for months and I am so gut-wrenchingly sorry I deserve to do all the penance in the world for this and I WANT TO.

I want to move back home. I want to move back in with my grandma and my mom and my brothers and I miss my dad and I miss grandpa, oh dear god he died, he's GONE, while I was out here in this NIGHTMARISH NORTH CAROLINA HELLHOLE what the heck am I even doing with my life, with our life, oh god, oh god I want to go home

I'm so sad it's making me sick. this is every single night now. every single night. every night

ten days. ten days left, just about. then we can finally go home. and we can start over, and we can be good, and we can be with family, and we can rest and sleep and relax and live and be happy WITHOUT this boy breathing down our neck because he loves us but we CAN'T DO A SINGLE THING WITHOUT HIM AND IT'S DRIVING US INSANE.
I just want to be alone again. alone with the family. alone in the house. alone and doing productive hands-on community service things but RESTING WHEN WE WANT and not having to be shackled to some "relationship" that's too close, too suffocating, to controlling, I can't stand this anymore

I want to go home and we're going home no matter what it takes but right now we just have to decide whether or not we're staying.
we have to go through our things. which clothes we want to keep. which papers we want to keep. everything else, we leave here.
I want to live out of a suitcase but I have too many stupid attachments to material things like books and plushies and I want to sob because I HATE THIS I want to just… go home, go home forever, I don't want to come back here, I don't want to do this anymore

I'm so tired. what do we do. what do we do.

we have to be there for grandma. until she dies. however long she stays with us I swear we WILL BE THERE NO MATTER WHAT. nothing matters more than her. that's the bottom line.

I want to stay for the snow, for christmas. god help me I am NOT going back into that subtropical hellscape when I could have cold weather and frost and heaven on earth. never again. never again, no heartless north carolina excuses for winters.

I'm tired
he's back inside I have to go
god I hate this so much I'm sorry

see you soon mom
thanks for never giving up on us
we love you. I swear.
we're coming home.

SESSION PARTICIPANTS
LAURIE UBERICH "LOTUS"



We need to talk about this eating disorder. It hasn't stopped yet, and although we’re not as bad as we used to be, it's still harmful and it needs to stop.

So what's the focus on it tonight, kid? Anything in particular or just the whole shebang?

Well, specifically the roots, the cause of it. We need to find that, the source, the motivation, so that no matter what happens next time, we can reroute that initial impulse to something productive and/or healing.

Sounds good to me, kid. By the way I apologize-- one, it is really hard to front or be conscious right now, and two, you still don't got a bloody name so that's throwing this whole entire thing into havoc.

I'm speaking mainly through the Autopilot right now in any case, but you're right. I am still searching for a name that fits and doesn't call anyone else out. But why are you struggling to be conscious? Body fatigue? Or are we still too heavily in the social context?

Bit of both, mostly the first. All that bingeing nonsense is wreaking havoc on our collective mind and frankly that's walling us all out upstairs. Body wants to dissociate and THAT might be playing into the bingeing thing, too, kid. It's looking for some excuse to unplug for a few hours, and right now we keep bloody forgetting that we CAN walk in circles in the living room if we want to, or lie down on the porch, or in the playroom even, instead of making ourselves sick by checking out and wrecking the entire bloody kitchen in the process.

That is an extremely relevant point and have we discussed this before?

Inevitably. Unquestionably, of course we've discussed that hellish eating disorder before, or do you mean the motives? Or specifically the battles we're fighting with it now here in North Carolina?

I was thinking specifically the motives, and you saying it sounded like "wanting to die without dying" and that's really what this still is, the dissociating for hours thing.

True. But really I'm thinking we're leaving out the food part itself entirely too much and that's a massive clerical error right there. It's an eating disorder; we've got to factor in the fact that food is involved. Otherwise we'd already have options-- do we, actually? Right now, could this compulsion to binge and purge feasibly be rerouted TO anything else? Healthy or harmful, either way works right now, I just need answers.

Well, we already know it's swappable for alcoholism, and possibly drug abuse, seeing how this same compulsion gets thrown towards sleeping pills and antacids and Benadryl and dairy pills and everything else that's not immediately a toxicity risk, but even that is mouth-based. Consumption based. It all boils down to biting and chewing mainly, not even swallowing-- that infamously does Not factor into the mental imagining and decision-making process.

Really?

Really. Like when I look at plans, or memory, in the social-level head memory bank, I can see them thinking about the nut butter and oatmeal again--

Didn't they get the freaking memo? That stuff is like eating wallpaper glue. We know this. Why do they keep looking for it? The oil content alone makes us want to die, that's how we end up with kids slumped over the sink and sobbing hysterically for Jesus to help them at 3 in the morning. Our stomach can NOT handle oil and that memo keeps being blithely skipped over, what the heck, these social kids NEED to get on the ball with taking into consideration the physical consequences of those choices. Anyway, they're planning it again, huh?

Yeah. Specifically that one girl, the one with the long hair who feels partly like a manic Jewel but resonates Brown I think?

Warm brown, I assume?

Yeah. Maybe she's a deadname, but I don't think so. Not anymore. She's got the basic body overlay and she feels about, I don't know, 15? 16? Before spinningcannon.

Wait, she's chronological?

A LOT of socials are. I wouldn't be surprised if all of them prior to NC had their roots in time pockets like that. It makes sense, considering their job.

Yeah, it does. Still, it's morbidly fascinating to realize that compulsions and addictions and abuse patterns and all that can be tracked to a freaking time period just by feeling out the body-mirror resonance of the corpufoni that holds it. By the way are we still using that term? Or did we find-slash-invent new jargon for that level?

Uh, working on it. We need to do more research first though. But yeah, probably new jargon, but for now if you want to use "corpufoni" then that works in a pinch I suppose. "Body voice." I just don't like the implication of separateness from the Upstairs that that implies. They're a "nous" voice, too. Just working on a different level.

Hence why I asked if the term was still applicable, so thanks kid. I'll stick to "Social kids" if I've gotta refer to them collectively for now, no problem. But as I was saying. Or, looking back on the chatlog, as socials were saying. This girl's motivation for gorging on sticky oats. What's her prerogative?

Hold up, I'm checking data. They used to have oily oats instead, just dry oats with sugar and vegetable oil, but the thought of eating that is correctly sending oil-memory body chills through our form, and even she is shuddering at it, so that's a no-go. Someone else is feeling the obligation to still do it, though.

Boy or girl?

 

Dude, actually. Might be Jonathan, if that's the same nervous kitchen guy we've been keeping track of for so long.

What's his deal? What is his anchor even for heaven's sake? Why's he so afraid and compulsive with this nonsense?

I don't know, let me see if I can ask actually.

(…)

The sun's coming up. It's beautiful.
Why can't we eat normal meals?
We can. We just haven't decided to yet.
Why do we keep repeating things that don't work then?
Because we changed it once, and Jonathan is afraid to change back.

Jon's afraid of "changing back," huh? Then why's he perpetuating old garbage loops? You know oil in oats makes us sick, but you insist you "want" it, solely because you want to "do the thing you're used to doing." Kid your brain is an addled mess, and you're only lapsing into these harmful patterns because they're patterns. Your brain is so bloody tired and exhausted with anxiety over daily life that you're afraid to even put forwards any extra stress by trying something new, even if it would help. You just do what was done once, so you don't have to think about it. You're literally an anxiety shutdown nousfoni and you NEED to reroute that function to something healthful because it could ACTUALLY be helpful if you would just use it wisely for once, kid.

…

Speaking of. Kid. Core dude. White haired crystal-light heart fella who’s in this Xanga-ass session with me. You still around?

Always, just gotta call me.

Cool. So here I am calling you. Jonathan's motives. He's anxiety looping. Wait, no. He's mindlessly looping for the sake of avoiding a specific kind of anxiety, essentially the stress that comes from change, especially trying something new, or-- God forbid-- admitting that an old behavior pattern doesn’t work towards our health and having to figure out something new that does. Problem is, Jonathan's personal timeflow has no stops. No breaks. It's always moving like a treadmill on high and he can't even stop to catch his breath or it's going to knock him off his feet. That's why he's the one insisting on just emptily repeating old food patterns, even if they don't work or make sense-- because they're ritualized, they're literally just behaviors smashed together into a script, something "self-soothing" he can default to almost as a stim, except the problem is that it's only applying to food. It wouldn't work otherwise. Somehow, the end result of this garbage ending up in our collective mouth is important somehow. Why? Kid, you got any pointers or answers or wondering questions about it?

Of course, that's my job I think. Light. Piercing through obfuscation and bringing things to be illumined. Revealed. Understood. But yes, definitely thoughts on this. Gosh the body's tired though.

Oh yeah, that's what I was going to tell you way up there at the top of the page. You've got one hour before your Food Lion run, so congratulations for making it this far. Congrats to all of us for the record. Yeah we messed up, big time, but hey, look at this, we're having a Xanga session as a result. Cool beans. Thoughts?

Hm. Well, first things first, it's obvious that Jon's just trying to work with Iscah in developing a set meal plan here. Problem is, it's havoc right now. We should be sticking to FODMAP management as well as the dietary exchange card. We need to work within a structure, or someone else is going to compulsively throw inedible meal combos together because "this food is healthy, we Have to eat it " and ultimately just making us sick.

But the oats aren't healthy-- wait, no you're right, it's the combo nonsense. Again.

Exactly! "Oats are fiber," we need fat according to UPMC," and "we shouldn't be afraid of sugar" causes an absolute nonsense combo that is both inedible and abusive to our body because one, we cannot have oil without excruciating pain & nausea, and two, we cannot have sugar without excruciating pain & nausea.

And dizziness so freakin' bad we almost passed out from it today. Twice!

In once week! Yeah it's terrifying, and I don't know why they keep forcing sugar when they KNOW it's terrifying and we ALL think it's disgusting.

There, there's that voice. The interjection. That fearful "but we can't judge it!" that's going to MAKE us keep eating sugar "until we like it." And that's a toxic introjected thought process from the grandmother, ultimately, isn't it.

It sure it. Can't think of anyone else who said it to us but that single speaking source is important enough to be this solid. So. There's two big challenges here--

Hold up-- look at that sunrise.

Gosh. Wow. It's soulfire pink.

Sure is, kid.

…Thank you, Laurie.

For what?

Stopping us to see that. That's an important lesson. Thank you.

(...)

Another huge concern: our body has been VERY SICK lately from IBS. It's flared up spectacularly lately and we're not sure why. It's worrying us greatly.

Hold up. Gonna go sit on the porch for a minute then get back to this and finish those thoughts.

---

010718.
sunday.

We finally realized why Tobiko hasn't been the one purging anymore.

Food does not register as food.
We've been using food as a stim.

We've been using a LOT of things as stims, actually.
This explains the bathroom rituals.
We brush our teeth, floss, brush again, floss some more, use mouthwash, brush our teeth again, wash our face, wash our body, wash our hands, wash our face again… over and over and over and over. We do this for an hour, sometimes, just scrubbing at our gums and our flesh, scrubbing until we are red and raw sometimes. We do this in the shower, too-- we obsessively wash over and over and over, not even thinking that much about "being" clean as we are thinking about feeling clean. It's why we cut our nails down to the nubs and shave every hair off that we can reach. It's never about the end result, not literally. It's about how it feels. It's about purging everything that hurts in the most literal way we can think of.

We eat when we don't want to because it NEVER registers as eating. It registers as stimming.
This is why preparing food used to take, what, six hours back in PA? Because it was never about food. It was, again, a matter of stimming. Of sensory soothing.

Remember that one night in SLC where we sat on the floor of our bedroom, rocking violently back and forth and flapping our hands so hard our wrists ached, blasting Serph at high volume on our headphones and stretching our legs against that rubber band until they, too, were sore from exertion? Pure stimming. Pure mindless stimming. THAT'S the key here.

We've lost all our old methods. We can no longer walk in circles in the living room, or the kitchen, or the driveway. We can no longer go hide downstairs by the furnace, or lock ourselves in the bathroom-- although the latter was always a horrific trauma trigger, as was the attic, even moreso (which is why we didn't even bother to list it here.)
We can't even self-abuse in the "traditional" way anymore. We don't have razors. We don't have knives. We don't have blades. (and oh, how our heart aches at those words-- no, those names, beloved and tender as a wound) We can't bite our arms anymore, can't slap our face, can't yank at our hair, can't claw at our skin or punch our legs or stomp our feet. All our old stimming methods, as violent as we need them, are gone, are forbidden. And our brain is boiling over.

It's been shutting down a lot lately and that terrifies us, to be honest. OV has it easy. He can stim with an adorable little squishy macaron or peach or donut, can play with fidget spinners or kaleidoscopes or even just a piece of jewelry. That's enough for him, it seems, and that makes us super happy. We love him, we love allof them, and the fact that they can use such mild methods to soothe their addled brain is deeply soothing to ours-- in a different sense. We would never inflict this aggressive need of ours on them, not for the world. And yet, here we are, needing it, and terrified because we can't explain it to him, terrified because he thinks we're doing it out of hatred, out of rage, out of suicidal ideation. It's exactly the opposite. When we don't do it, the stress and pressure gets so intense that we wantto die, and we stop caring whether or not we do. That is what's lethal. Not the stims.

The problem is, though, that the stims are dangerous in and of themselves. All of Cannon and Gamboge's old methods drew blood, marked bruises, left scars. All of them beautiful and beloved, true, but still risky to our health… and yet what we wouldn't give to be able to flay this flesh wide open again, even though I can feel Scalpel shaking his head at that thought even now. Why so?
"It's dangerous," he says. "You're right. Even though it is effective, and beautiful, it's also just as addictive. You know just as well as I do that once we start that, we can't stop. We want to bleed and scar forever. And that will kill us."
So will this "eating disorder." But I suppose that's the point of this whole entry.

Food is the simplest, easiest, most "socially acceptible" form of stimming and self-abuse that we have left at our disposal. It's all we have left on days like this.
Except, now, we can't, not without risk of condemnation and distrust, not without hurting someone else more than we ever could before or would ever want to. OV knows we have a problem, but he doesn't know why-- heck, even we didn't know that until this afternoon!
But it's why we go absolutely bonkers in the kitchen once he goes to work and MC goes to sleep. We racked our brains over that for weeks, for months even. We don't want to abuse ourselves, we don't want to suffer or humiliate ourselves anymore, so why this? Why can't we stop this? Why do all of the nousfoni tied to this have such shockingly, irresistibly powerful anchors? Why can't even Laurie stop them? Why does NO ONE, deep down, even want to? Why does it feel like we're being "betrayed" by the System itself in these nousfoni being given free reign and full power over our body and actions in the middle of the night?
We know why, now. It's because they're trying to save our life.
They're STIMMING. They're desperately attempting to soothe our hurting brain, to ease our aching heart, to comfort the poor screaming ones inside. The ONLY way we've EVER known how is to somehow "burn it off" outside. Even now, right now, although we're enjoying typing, our brain is too high-strung and our body is immediately defaulting to the urge of "eating." We aren't hungry. We never are. But that's the point. This isn't about physical hunger. This is about spiritual hunger-- psychological starvation. This is about us needing something we still can't seem to get and scrabbling at the scraps of it wherever we can find it.
Truthfully, we just want to isolate ourselves completely, close our eyes, rock back and forth like a lunatic punching bag and just let our brain turn off as completely as possible. But the key, again, is isolation-- that terribly dear thing we have NEVER been allowed to truly get, not since childhood, and which we have been aching for for longer than we can remember lately. There are no locked doors here. There's no cellar, no attic, no closet to sit in. God how we miss it now, how we miss being a child, ignored and alone in that dearly forsaken house, feeling like we were the only soul(s) existing in the entire world. Just us, and the quiet, and the sunlight, and our heart. We need that like the air we breathe, and we don't know how to get it anymore, because we never realized until we moved out here how we need love like the blood in our veins, pun entirely intended.
That's the killer. That's the real awful thing here.
God I want to cry. Our body is desperate right now, we want to just… scream and punch things and stomp the floor until our knees hurt and throw things and bite things and just let ALL the steam out. There's no malice in it, ever. But it scares people. It terrifies them. We're a monster, and we love what we are, but… we're still a monster. We're a scary, terrible, incomprehensible thing sometimes, and it hurts when our sharp edges cut even the people who try to love us regardless.

Our body wants to food-stim because that's the only thing it can think of to do right now, and yet it KNOWS that it doesn't want to. The very thought of "eating" is making Overload want to scream and throw the plate across the room, is making The Destroyer want to set the entire freaking refrigerator on fire. We HATE food; we hate it for being the only accessible way we were able to dissociate and heal for years, without being hacked.

Yeah. Isn't that the bloody cincher.
Hacks. Why the heck do you think they kept happening for so long?? Why the heck do you think people stopped fighting after so many hellish years??
It's because they hurt, they ate hours of our time, and they isolated us from the world. Yeah, they were absolute hell, that's the indisputable truth-- but the other awful truth is that we didn't want to live in the first place.
God. Those poor, poor damaged kids, sacrificing their souls and selves just because the world at large outside was somehow even scarier than blacking out for three hours and waking up in blood and excruciating pain and mental terror. At least then they could shut down. At least then they could hard-reset their memory, splinter a little more, break a little further, forget most of their entire life and pretend nothing was happening. They just wanted to run, God forgive them, they just wanted to hide and sleep and rest and the ONLY way they could was by shutting everything off. God forgive all of us.

Hacks don't happen anymore. They can't. Not since 2016. Not since Infinitii's presence truly registered, not since we realized what we were actually looking for and what was actually happening in contrast. The truth of it, the harsh horrific reality of the situation, was too terrifying to ever allow ever again. And so hacks stopped completely.
And the eating disorder exploded.

We knew that was going to happen, really. Stop one addiction, but leave the reason why it developed in the first place, and a new addiction will return or appear to replace it. The body is just hopelessly wrecked, man, it doesn't know what else to do.
Why do you think we started flirting with EVERYTHING that would detach us from the reality our poor brain couldn't cope with anymore? We started drinking. We started smoking. We started abusing prescription meds. We experimented with asphyxiation and anesthesia and everything we could think of that would detach us from the awful soul-crushing loop of that toxic household, of that dead-end environment, of the unending mental stress.
And somehow, some days, some nights, that still hasn't changed.
Like right now.

We have nothing. No paint, no sewing kit, no exercise bike, no weights, no internet, no Xbox. No isolation, which is the TRUE need behind ALL of those things. We can't do anything if we aren't COMPLETELY alone, and it feels like a kick in the face to the Broken Arrows, but God forgive us it's true.

We want to run. But we can't. Where the heck would we go? Everywhere out there, there are people watching us, there are social contexts "to obey" and our poor terror-hardwired brain keeps kowtowing to ALL of them. Even just now, when OV laughed or sighed or whatever that little dear breath was, we looked up, wondering-- are we needed? Was that a call for attention? What is the proper way to respond?
And then we wonder why people like Quicksilver exist, why that girl who fronts in the early morning exists. The nousfoni that will even flip off the people they love and say "shove off, leave me alone." The ones that seem coldhearted and callous and brutal, when really all they are trying to do is get us alone. They're trying to PROTECT us, bless their monstrous hearts, and we know it.
We're terrified of coming across as a horrible person, like we did to the kids in SLC. This is probably why. But we had no idea this was even happening back then-- we didn’t even know we were multiple, for God's sakes. Now, though, not only do we know, we understand, more and more each day.
So when OV sighs and someone immediately fronts with a middle finger and stony expression, they aren't saying they don't care. They're saying, "we can’t care right now because we are too burnt out TO do so without utterly sacrificing our health and your respect in the process."
So we sit here, miserable and overloaded, yearning for the opportunity to just… be alone.

God we both love and hate the nights when OV works. We love him, we love all of the Broken Arrows, but… it's just like when we started doing too much for church. We adore our faith, we adore its practices, but when you're expected to attend every daily mass, every weekly funeral, every weekend mass, every choir practice, every group meeting, every picnic, every bible study, et cetera… well, something in you starts to hate it, in utter paradoxical spite, in total impossible parallel to the love you still feel, solely because it KNOWS that if you don't stop you are going to burn to the ground.
So it stops it in the most complete, sudden, brutal, total way it knows how.
It scares the bloody wits out of anyone standing in its way.
People don't like monsters. People leave monsters alone.
So we learned to be a monster.

…God. What do we do.
We're thirsty. We want to cry. More than that, we want to scream and punch things, but that'll frighten OV, and we can't… we can't risk that. That's the horrible, horribly irony of this. We have to sacrifice our terrible needs for the sake of terrible love. What do we do?

People stay up all night because we need to be alone because that's the ONLY TIME we can brutally soothe our psyche. It's always violent love with us, did you notice? Always compassion and cruelty, or at least, what others would see as cruel. For us, it's just the rawest, most selflessly pure form of love. Love that doesn't deny you your needs just because they're strange or "socially unacceptable."

We want to run outside and go hide in that stupid McDonald's bathroom because it's the only place in town that feels like an airport-- totally insulated from the outside world, cold metal and echoing tile, quiet as a grave, no time existing in there at all. It always feels like 3 in the morning there, when you're by yourself. But that's the problem. It's a freaking bathroom in a fast food joint. It's not EVER going to be a failsafe place to be safe-- heck, the sheer simple fact that it's a bathroom has ALREADY condemned the poor thing beyond hope, thanks trauma. (God, there's that awful thought process again. Poor hurting kids. I wonder how many of them we've never seen, how many of them are still contributing to this in our sub(terranean)conscious.) But the one time we were in there, we felt-- God have mercy, what a dearly desired feeling-- like we were the only people on earth. Just us, just this body, just this tiny bubblespace of a bathroom, no time or space beyond. Just that single isolated moment. THAT'S what we need. YES, it's a literal NEED. It's why we risk our mental health going out literally EVERYWHERE when we walk in the mornings, exposing ourselves to too many soul-draining social contexts, desperately seeking a place where that won't be the case, desperately seeking some secret quiet corner somewhere that we can privately own, like the study nooks at Marywood, like the tiny pockets of woods.
…I wish there was a church with unlocked doors around here. God, we wish. We're nearly in tears just thinking of that. The ultimate met need. Isolation, but in a soaring wide-open emptiness. The feeling of our dreams. Rolling hills and labyrinthine halls and massive abandoned buildings and no one, NO one but us in them. Not even a gnat for outside company. Nothing. Just us, and the air, and the sun, and the clock ticking second after second, counting down to nothing, looping without an hour hand. That's what we want. Just… infinity. Eternity. God help us, no wonder hacks were a thing, I want to cry so hard we vomit out our entire respiratory system. This is wrenching and it makes so much sense. How did we never NOTICE this before???

…
What do we do.

Where do we go. It's 7pm, it's a Sunday night, we can't stand this social context right now, we KNOW OV is worried about us and that simple passive attention is keeping our brain in overloaded status and we want to weep because we care about them, too-- so much our heart aches from it, but what do we do? We love them, but… what do we do? We'll never stop loving them. We'll love them forever. But… sometimes, we dream of running away, of just sleeping in a field somewhere, of packing a knapsack and walking the railroad tracks for days, of catching a bus and just riding it until the end of the line and wherever we are, we are. We want no roots, and yet we want a home to go home to when the solitude starts to bite. There's nothing wrong with being alone. Just… souls need souls. God split hirself because ze needed to love more. We are made to connect with those other pieces, with every other bit of reality. And humans, sure we don't identify as one but this body is one, and we adore people, we do, we just… need to do this in moderation, I suppose.

Do we have a list? Do we even have options when this happens? When our spoons are so low the entire silverware drawer is missing, what the heck do we do, where do we go? When we're so weak we can't get undressed, is there anywhere we can be that will feel like the world has ceased to exist outside? I don't know.
Maybe we can empty out the bottom of the closet, sit in there.
No, no no no, I can feel the children shrieking at that idea even now.
Idola seems piqued. Maybe we should try. See what happens. I doubt hacks will happen--
They won't, but they'll be threatened--
In isolation hacks are always a threat because we black out,

What do we do.

It's too cold outside to go hide in the woods, or to even go find spots where we can hide. But Jewel is so excited at the thought. She has ideas.
Maybe we should try anyway? Get a blanket or sleeping bag or something, bundle up good, find somewhere in the woods where it's just us and just… keep that in our heart if nothing else, if we can't go there. Find at least one place in this new local world where we can be ironically cut off from it for a while, without risk of sudden jarring intrusion. Walking distance. Where can we go?
Buses.
Buses aren't cheap, kid, we need somewhere we can go on a dime without spending a dime, that's the problem.
I'm sure there's somewhere. Let's check Google Maps, find something out. I'm sure we can. Right? Are we done writing?
For now, maybe. I… the other topics we want to write about are huge. The hacks, for one, and the eating disorder in light of this.
But we have been writing about it. Both of them. Haven't we?
Not in as brutal excruciating detail and honesty as we need to, no.
Should we start, then?
Maybe. Hold on a minute.


Food stimming.
Back in PA, we had a soup pot, huge and solid metal, and every day, we'd start the morning by blacking out over a cutting board.
I don't know what we did. All I know is that the smell of wilted lettuce is one of the biggest triggers in the world, and we still can't put spices on our food without shivering in dread. Indian food makes us dissociate immediately, as do potato chips, and ice cream, especially Klondike bars… avocados are still terrifying, so are carrots, so is mayonnaise.
All of those foods were used for blatantly self-abusive purposes in the past and you know what? I'm going to say EXACTLY why.
There was a phase, in 2016, where all we ate for about a week was namkeen. Indian snack food. Just bags of (name). It made us horrifically sick but hey, snack food is an easy time-consuming stim, right? Even if it makes you vomit nonstop for hours-- even especially because it does! Because purging makes you even more dissociative, makes you able to sleep for hours because your body is so wrecked from the past several hours to even consider staying conscious for another second. The last day we bought Indian food, someone filled at least six entire cereal bins with the stuff, separating them methodically by ingredient, then going outside (thanks Destroyer) and flinging them all into the woods… and then hours later, even days later, someone else went outside in a scavenger-desperate mess and picked the pieces off the ground and ate them. We still cannot look at that memory without feeling instantly, unbearably sick. I assume it was all purged seconds after, but memory is black, punctuated only by tiny shattered snapshots of fingers wrestling bits of chickpea flour away from bugs and brambles and rain-muddled dirt.
Remember why P&R became the devil's household?? Remember how many actual HUNDREDS of dollars were spent there over several months, because the food there was dirt cheap AND typically already was garbage? Remember the granola bags with mouse holes chewed through them? Remember the instant noodles with mold growing inside? Remember the hummus that landed us in the hospital due to food poisoning? I know you do. We ALL do.
Oh, but THAT'S the most important thing, something we've probably mentioned in the past before but NEED to reiterate today-- the MAIN reason food was our main stim for YEARS was because, if no one is watching, you don't have to eat it.
We would buy starchy, heavy, crunchy foods, time-consuming foods, chips and cookies and cereals and granola and things, and we'd chew them up, ingredient by ingredient, piece by single piece, and we'd spit them out. Organize, chew, spit. Over and voer and over. And then, when the bag or box was done, we'd chew up the chewed stuff, over and over, until it was too saliva-riddled to chew anymore, and then we'd eat that and purge it immediately, too racked by family-instilled guilt at the thought of "wasting it" by throwing it away (no matter how moldy or rotten or inedible it was) to do so, even at the risk of our own health. That went on for years.
Then we couldn't isolate anymore, then we started losing too much weight, then our body forced us to start bingeing instead in a desperate gamble to get some calories out of it.
The worst chew-spit binges were in that one autumn that we re-read A Wrinkle In Time, with whoever decided that raw oatmeal mixed with molasses was the best texture for doing so-- probably because it took ages to mix up, causing our arms to scream with exertion from doing so, eliciting the same response from our jaws once it reached those. Pain, once sharps were forbidden. A horrific rerouting. And we did that for weeks, if not longer, until the passive sugar-exposure made us SO sick we ended up bedridden with a trashed immune system and too much nausea and chronic pain and hideous gastric distress to leave the bed. But to this day, anxiety-eaten nousfoni in this system, poor desperate kids, always look to the oatmeal boxes in the grocery stores even if the sight of them triggers immediate massive panic. Part of them also remembers a time when that food was the only way they could numb themselves to the world. So they hesitate. They're afraid, but they don't know what other options they even have. And every once in a while, we'll find a box stashed in a drawer or a closet, inevitably doomed to be in the garbage within hours, either thanks to the Destroyer or some poor purgative kid who just wanted to feel like they were throwing up the pain along with the carbs.

God. No wonder so many of our Daemons are tied to food. I wonder what Rupture knows, if anything. She's mainly the fear of dying in the process, of blood in our nose and throat, of our stomach screaming at us to stop. I don't know who holds this, this stimming nightmare… no one except Chocoloco, at least, and he only catches the frayed-end dregs of it, nothing serious, nothing traumatic. He's just that initial desperate programmed seeking of comfort in places where everyone who claimed they loved you claimed it would always be, and yet never was. Chocolate and coffee. Our family's "soothing staples," both of them doing nothing but putting us through hell since childhood. Still, desperate, we never gave up trying. Choco is pretty pissed as that, although nowhere near as much as he is heartbroken. His heart-host is angry almost all the time but it's for the same exact reason that any of us are angry right now-- because we're burning up inside, ripped apart and overwhelmed and sad, and we just want to hole ourselves up in the corner of a coffeeshop somewhere, in the evening when it's dark and softly raining outside and no one knows we're here and we have nowhere else to be, just us and this warm quiet soft place, and we can weep and cry and ache inside and this tiny childlike part of us remembers the days when a muffin and a latte made us feel real, made us feel like we could exist as ourselves apart from society and our family and anyone, like this little rite of passage was proof that we could survive alone, and were, in that moment. THAT'S what our hurt ones keep seeking, in that sort of archetypal memory, but Chocoloco knows it's ultimately heartbreakingly empty, that it's not food or drink or chocolate or coffee or caffeine or sugar or anything edible that we're seeking-- we're seeking his heart, we're seeking love, we're seeking the love that only we can give each other-- we're seeking ourselves.
We can't find each other if we're suffocating in the outside world.

So. Trigger foods.
Someone once wrote about this, too-- probably Iscah-- the science of "combined" and "fused" foods (she says yes, it's in her journal in detail). Well I won't steal her thunder, but the principle of it was this: if you want to make a food inedible but still ingestible, in other words, if you're trying to make a "stim food" instead of a meal, you need to make it as easily palatable as possible in the most blatant way possible. Which means, usually, you liquefy it. You blend things. You cut things into miniscule pieces. You take things like spices, and condiments, and sauces, and drinks, and you soak every stupid thing you have with them until your stomach heaves at the very sight of it, and when it's a slurry from hell you eat that as quickly as possible so your body rejects it just as quickly. Ideally, the whole prep process will take hours, as will the purging process afterwards, in a desperate blacked-out state, trying to get every last crumb out of our system. This is how we spent our days for years, inbetween church activities and family demands.
And isn't that the irony?
We were left alone. We were ignored. And yet, we were never isolated. The grandparents were ALWAYS there, always a few feet or a room away, watching, waiting, vigilant. If we disappeared from their radar for a few minutes, they freaked out. The only time we could "get away with it" was by being in the bathroom, behind a locked door, pretending we were taking a bath, when in reality we were slumped over a toilet wishing we were dead already, sobbing because we really just wanted to be alive already.
But we were never alone. We wanted to be alone, God knew. We wanted a place where nothing could touch us but ourselves.
That's how hacks happened.
I can't talk about that right now.

Potato chips. Cookies. Trail mix. Things like that. Our grandfather would hoard them in his closet, and when we weren't allowed to prepare or eat food in the kitchen anymore without being perpetually critiqued by our grandmother or psychologically terrorized by our brother, we would sneak into his room and sneak into the closet and gorge down a whole bag, not even wanting to, just desperate to stim away the constant fear and pain by crunching something sharp and salty until our mouth bled. But potatoes and flour don't purge easy. They stick like glue in your stomach, and they WILL make the next few hours feel like the central circle of hell. We know. We made that mistake one too many times. We thought we were dead, a few times. But somehow we survived. 85 pounds and throwing up junk food for 8.5 hours a night and we still somehow survived.
There was a time when we first discovered P&R and someone bought cheese curls and chips by the cartful, but they were bean-based, and when our body loudly let us know that it did NOT like beans, we threw them ALL out on the crudpile.
It rained that night. It was cold that night. The next morning, the food was somehow soggy but preserved by the temperature, and whoever the heck was fronting was starving and "couldn’t stand the thought of wasting that poor food" (why the pity on the FOOD being unloved and rejected?? why NEVER pity on ourself being the same???) and snuck out to that horrid garbage heap and ate them right off the dirt, brushing bits of soot and soil and ants off them in the process. Good God. How did we even survive.
They/we threw everything up in a panic shortly after. That was Tobiko's doing. She remembers that more clearly than anyone.
It wasn't the last time that happened. Someone grew fond of the process at one point, of the act of scavenging, of "finding food in the wild" and the time-consuming, stimming process of that fused with a broken sense of accomplishment and achievement. It never lasted long, but God knows they tried, over and over and over, until that last day with the Indian food. Thank God that hell is over forever.

The bloody Klondike bars and avocados. That was the WORST of it, shortly before UPMC. We realized that our body hated dairy, hated fat, hated chocolate, but we ALSO realized that the consistency of those foods was ideal for bingeing and purging, plus our body was seeking sweets out of childhood comfort desperation AND everyone we knew was INSISTING we "eat as much fat as possible."
So guess who binged on like eighteen entire avocados and ten packs of Klondike bars one night.
It was forced. It was forced so hard we thought we were possessed. We thought we were going to die. There's no memory of anything outside one hysterical moment when someone was shoving more chocolate into our mouth and thinking, why?? I don't want this, NOBODY wants this, I'm scared and sick and I just want to sleep, why can't I stop???
I don't know how that ended. All we know is that the family KNEW and they WATCHED IT HAPPEN and then afterwards they asked if we had "learned our lesson."
SHUT UP. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE HECK WAS GOING ON, DON'T ASK IF WE "LEARNED OUR LESSON" BECAUSE THERE WASN'T EVEN A LESSON IN IT WE WERE JUST SO DESPERATE TO NOT BE IN PAIN ANYMORE YOU IGNORANT TROLLOP
Triple, watch your language. Be angry, but don't be so brusquely inconsiderate about it, please.
IT'S WHAT VOCAB WE HAVE FOR THIS KIND OF INTENSE PAIN. i'm sorry. i have no other words besides screaming.

Let's continue.

Coconut oil. the NIGHTMARE that is coconut oil. HOW much money was blown on that??
It was the best stim food and it was the SCARIEST one BY FAR, and that is SAYING something.
Our body does NOT like oil, and when you're literally buying PACKS of it because this kind FREEZES and becomes not only biteable and sharp, but chewy if you mix it with protein powder, and your poor malnourished body is craving both those things so it's a recipe for disaster already. We… I don't even remember. Literally NO ONE we can find even remembers, nothing beyond one snapshot of lying on the bathroom floor with that unmistakable special nauseating agony that comes from eating too much oil, literally begging God to not let them die, screaming in rage and determination that they'd NEVER do this again, someone (a Protector, Wreckage maybe, the Destroyer maybe, Laurie maybe) going outside in the 10pm dark and rain and throwing all of that garbage into the woods where it couldn't be salvaged (although we all knew someone would try).


…OV just came over and kissed us and someone actually wanted to give him a double flipoff in response. Not out of hatred, just out of "what the heck do you want us to do. We're tired and angry and can't do a SINGLE THING without your permission because we DON'T KNOW what we actually want and don't trust ourselves TO know right now. But we're overstimulated and overwhelmed and heartbroken and furiously distraught and you're kissing us like we're supposed to ignore all this agony and kiss you back. And God knows we WANT to. That's the problem. We WANT to, but then you'll call it self-sacrifice, and what the heck do we do??? We love you, we WANT to be with you, but our body wants something else and until we figure out what the heck it is, we CAN'T be with you because we won't be able to pay attention To you past this screaming discomfort and unsoothed pain. We don't know what the heck to do, and we hate that we have to snub and ignore you in the process of finding out simply because our brain cannot handle the stress of having to factor in another human being's presence and needs into our decisions and thoughts right now. We can't freaking multitask. Please don't force us to context shift so shockingly suddenly or we Will hit you, or bite you, like the monster and rabid dog we are at the moment. But we won't mean it, and we hope you know it, but we still can't take that risk of hurting you, so we completely shut down. We do nothing, we say nothing, we boil over like a kettle fit to explode, and we just want to get this problem figured out so we can safely let this scalding steam out so you can touch us without getting burned. That's all."

…

Do we eat? Do we drink?
This body has to use the bathroom. These clothes are too warm and soft and do you know what that's overstimulating? Because they make us WANT to sit and rest and relax and we CAN'T.
Iscah LOVES these clothes because that's ALL SHE DID. She rested, and relaxed, and took care of our body. When we wear these clothes, the body remembers that, and wants it just as badly. But in this context, no. No, here we're too afraid of ignoring people, of rejecting them, of the fact that OV just went and lay down on the freaking bed because he probably thinks we hate him when really WE JUST WANT TO DO THAT SAME BLOODY THING BUT WE WON'T BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU TOO MUCH TO LEAVE YOU.

what do we do. god. I don't know.

Is our body hungry?
It's thirsty. We haven't drank in over 3 hours and someone purged most of breakfast out of sheer dissociative panicked guilt, so that's even worse. Go use the bathroom, get a drink, then figure out what to do.
We can't eat without OV anyway, and he's hiding away from us. Did we hurt him?
…I don't know. I don't even know. I just hope he's okay. If he didn't, and he wanted to be alone, but was happy, would that be okay with you?
Of course it would be, but he's obviously not happy right now and that's the problem.
…Oh. Should we go talk to him, or…?
Maybe. I don't know. Maybe.
I think we should. Apologize for not being able to respond earlier, apologize for snubbing him on purpose because we were unable to respond in honesty to him.
All or nothing, huh.
Yeah. A curse and a blessing.
Are we done with this file for now, for the record?
Maybe? I think so. The big unanswered question is still: how do we eat food without turning it into a dissociatively abusive stim?
Eat it like we do in the mornings with him. Paying attention, letting everyone share it, not being stressed the heck out in the process. Stimming beforehand, even. Really, that's probably the smartest thing to do. Gotta find what works on short notice that won't hurt us or magnify negative emotions and do that.
Sounds good.
Body does need some self-care, though, so let's call it quits for now. Everyone good? Anyone got any last thing to say before we stop?
Just that Wegmans was a living hell, too, and we never want to go back there.
Then get over that place and every other place in our memory, kid. Forget them. Live here and now, and please, learn from that experience and stop thinking about it. Okay?
…Okay.
Just… let it go. Walk into memory and burn it to the ground if you have to. Whatever works. Just don't let it suck the joy out of our present life anymore. All right? We'll help you. We're safe now, all things considered. Just confused and hurting is all. But we're safe.
I know.
Then let's go talk to OV. He's the reason we can say that, after all.
We love him, even now. Does he know that?
That's what we're going to go make sure of, kid. Give me a minute.



Oh, wait!! One last vitally important thing.
The key to a successful stim is that it HAS to let our BRAIN shut down. Low-impact, low-speed, "mindless" activity so that we can DEEPLY relax, INSIDE. Books don't work, nor does TV, because they're too mentally stimulating. Food prep is too, actually-- that's why we keep hurting ourselves when we try! Same with the garage job. We try to dissociate with repetitive motion and forget that those motions have an end, both in result and process. That doesn't work for stimming!! However, THIS DOES. Weirdly, this typing REALLY helps, at least, in a different way-- it helps us untangle what hurts, and really See it. It doesn't alleviate the stress, just lets us know what we're looking at. What DOES help in a pinch is TUMBLR, on the phone, IF we do it safely. Yes, it Does work!! Because it's "mindless browsing" and you can link-hop FOREVER and find poetry and pretty pictures and just let our mind wander for HOURS if you have to. Spotify is almost this kind of stim but not really, because music demands Attention, but we can use that to a BETTER advantage because it draws us into our mind ENTIRELY. THAT'S an ideal stim, hence the old beloved walks in circles for hours, just imagining and thinking. My thing!! We've gotta find a way to do that again if we can. Maybe in the playroom, who knows. But we will. Anyway, yeah. When in doubt, grab Nelumbo, our beloved Samsung Galaxy S8 who we saved up for a year for and now had better use to show respect and gratitude for that!! Okay? We've got this. Now go tell the Arrows that we love them because they need us just as much as we need them even if they need space too!! Bye guys!!

-J.W.L. and the Lightraye aka Lotus Cathedral System ♥

I'm so depressed.

I can't stop thinking about hell and damnation. I can't stop. I'm so afraid. I keep thinking about sin, sin, sin, all day long, and how horrible I am, and how I keep making mistakes and hurting people and hurting myself, and I am acutely aware of every little fatal error I make during the day and I am crushed with shame and guilt and panic and fear, fear, fear,


I'm terrified to do anything but pray.
I don't want to eat anymore. I keep messing up. I try very hard, but then I get these waves of overwhelming shame and I just throw up and throw out everything I bought.
Today I bought those hemp bites that I love, but I felt so guilty about buying "junk food" (they have sugar in them) that I threw out every single one. And now I want to cry, because that cost a LOT of money, and I enjoy them, but no, "enjoying them is a SIN because they are useless, they aren't real nutrition," so therefore God made me waste them to teach me a lesson, that I will NEVER find happiness or comfort or enjoyment in food, so stop trying. STOP TRYING. God will make you lose ALL your money if you keep spending it on shit like this, and he won't show mercy for your stupidity.

God, I'm so afraid. There's sin everywhere, but I'm scared of seeing the world that way?

Like… the whole modesty thing. "Cover yourself lest you cause someone to lust and sin!!" First of all, WHY do people lust in the first place. It's stupid. Nakedness is innocent and frankly it's pretty and lots of people in our System (mostly cores) appreciate the fact that the human body is just as fascinating a thing as ANY other body, and that has NOTHING TO DO WITH SEX.
So it's really annoying and heartbreaking and terrifying when people keep saying, "don't even look at bare legs on a girl, because that’s IMMORAL and you WILL GO TO HELL." But her legs are really pretty and I don’t want to sleep with her because her body's pretty, that's stupid!
Is it a sin just to look at bodies? I heard someone once say, "the body is God's tabernacle, therefore it must be kept hidden and secret, as it is sacred."
Isn't… isn't all of Creation God's dwelling in a sense? Shouldn't we glorify God through it and its visible existence, the glorious paradox of that? God created these things, God's handiwork is something we can touch, we should be motivated by that reverence whether we hide OR show something. Is that… is that blasphemous to say?

...



The biggest vices we are struggling with now are:
1. cheating
2. stealing food from family members
3. wasting food, almost compulsively
4. lying by omission or secrecy
5. apathy

Where did all of that come from???
Avarice, gluttony, those are vices we've never so much as IMAGINED before and yet here they are. Why??
We don't want to go to hell. We're a good person, deep down we ARE and we know it; we are naturally inclined to do good and help people, we don't want to sin at ALL, so why in the world are these sinful compulsions coming from?
Why do so many of them only occur during consciousness blackouts???
Why is our subconscious so ugly?
How do we fix it? It's sabotaging our very soul.

…

But every time I try to go "without God," I end up utterly miserable and paranoid and anxious and distraught and I feel empty and dirty and wrong and the only thing that can fix it is prayer, and church, and pure undiluted faith. Nothing outsourced, nothing reflected, no middlemen. Just my faith. Just turning to Christ, God become man, the Creator of all coming down into our little world out of love to save us from our corruption. I need God. I will always need God. And I need to be clearly aware of that too. No matter how disturbed or disillusioned or doubtful I my get with my religion, the core of it will never ever disappoint, by virtue of what it is in the first place.

 

DATES THAT PEOPLE FIRST EVIDENCED ON

 

1995-1999

JULIE= unknown date, approximately 1997

JEZEBEL= 1997, unknown date

 

2000

JEWEL LIGHTRAYE= spring 2000

 

2001

CEL= March 2001

 

2003

RYMAN= January 2003? or late 2002

WALDORF= March 3rd 2003

MARKUS= May 2003?

HOSEKI= May 21st 2003?

CHAOS= December 2003?

 

2004

"THIRD JEWEL"= March 2004?

 

2005

GENESIS= July 4th 2005 (Leo)

 

2006

SPINNINGCANNON?

JENNIFER= August 2006?

LAURIE= September 4th 2006

 

2007

NATHANIEL= unknown date 2007

JEMMA= unknown date 2007

 

2008 (first major headspace year)

LYNNE= February 8th 2008?

CANNON= May 15th 2008??

RAZOR= October 19th? 2008

 

2009

SECOND "CEL"

SPINZOR= August 2009?

GLISSANDO= September 2009

 

2010

LEON= April 18th 2010

THE BEAR= June 2nd 2010

SPINE= July 26th 2010

PINSTRIPE= August 5th 2010

JOSEPHINA= August 13th 2010

 

2011

XENOPHON= March 13th 2011

EROS= December 9th 2011

 

2012

AIRPORT= August 15th 2012

EMMETT= October 25th? 2012

 

2013 (the year the Underground opened up)

KYANOS= February 26th 2013

INFINITII= April 3rd 2013

GENT= April 19 2013?

MAVERICK= April 19 2013?

QUEEN=April 19 2013?

DAVID= April 23 2013

MARIGOLD= April 23 2013

MULBERRY= May 1st 2013

MINTY= May 30th 2013

CHRISTINA MARIE= June 2013?

JEREMIAH= June 6th 2013

KNIFE= June 12th 2013

OVERLOAD= June 12th 2013

HYAKINTH= June 14th 2013

JAVIER= July 1st 2013

ZWEI= July 15th 2013?

EINSATZ= July 15th 2013

SUGAR= July 22nd 2013

SERGEI= July 23rd 2013

DREAD= July 25th 2013

ALGORITH= July 31st 2013

SPICE= September 18th 2013

JAY= October 21st 2013?

AIMEE= October 29th 2013

AMARA= October 29th 2013

KALISHA= November 17th 2013

ISADORA= November 17th 2013

GARRISON= November 17th 2013

DREAD= December 10th 2013?

SHERLOCK= found his name in 2013

THE SCIENTIST

SHARONA

ANNA

HATCHET?

 

2014

KARISSA= January 25th 2014

THE DESTROYER= January 25 2014

ASHEN= January 25th 2014

NIENNA= March 2014?

TOBIKO= March 2nd 2014

WRECKAGE= March 4th 2014

JABBERWOCK= May 29th 2014

CHOCOLOCO= September 12th 2014

TIGERLILY= December 27th 2014???

 

2015

so far this year it's just been re-finding older people.

 

"BAT EARS"=

MOXIE=

 

2016

(hard reset)

 

2017

HARMONIA= May??

ISCAH=

SPIKE=

KITTY=

CRIER=

CAKE=

AXIS=

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

AUGUST 2013 WAS THE "DEAD MONTH"

julie/ sergei/ infinitii infant genocide shutdown.

jewel and the ap fronted for almost that entire month; NO MEMORY

 

august 6th, rescue with infi, glasses, chthonic magma zone.

august 28th was ecclesioumon

 

by september 1st, the underground was HUGELY PREVALENT, actually becoming in control of the entire system temporarily.

this was when knife ran the show, started trying to organize everyone in all the other levels.

very very very important for long term growth actually, thank him

 

however the first two weeks of december were fronted by someone who kept actively trying to deny headspace.

"the past isn't relevant" and "I want to abandon all this at once" were the main mindsets.

 

september 11th was the punchcard dream

september 12th, "j" said that headspace was not gone, BUT that "most of us were dead or gone". we also got our diagnosis.

ALSO said "I no longer have a solid identity so it's near impossible for me to enter headspace"

 

SPICE'S AUDIO RECORDINGS WERE ON SEPTEMBER 18TH.

at that time, no one knew who the core was, most of us were still dead.

 

SEPTEMBER 21ST WAS WHEN I SAVED INFI FROM THE TAR SPIDER.

I DO NOT directly remember it though, just very blurry awareness that I was there.

thus started the madeleine l'engle period!

 

sept 23rd was woodsmoke, sept 24th was knife in the mall. that was also the proginoskes time period. NO PERSONAL MEMORY.

sept 25 was a JULIE HACK, retributors smudging the entire room.

sept 28th was INFI AND LAURIE in lou's house.

 

OCTOBER 2ND: "THE CURRENT J DOESN'T KNOW CHAOS. NONE OF US DO"

OCTOBER 4TH: "I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO JAY; I THINK HE'S LONG GONE"

october 5th was the caliborn baby dream. I remember that?

october 7th was the desk cellar fear?

 

october 8th was mesita's album, AND sergei and hyakin calling me to diamew! FIRST TOTALLY CONCRETE MEMORY DAY!!

also important, I remember the ENDING of "many waters," standing by the stove, BUT NOT THE PREVIOUS TWO BOOKS!!

 

october 21st was the apples AND the yogurt shop.

I WAS DEFINITELY, TOTALLY ALIVE BY THIS POINT.

 

BIRTHDAYS SHOULD BE ON SIGNIFICANT DATES, NOT ARBITRARY ONES. FIND YOURS.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Spine Hypomone= "steadfast endurance"

Javier Anastasi = "resurrection"

Algorith=

Lynne Stabelle= "stability"

Josephina Bellameire= "beautiful/ one who shines"

Cel???

Nathaniel Victoire= "victory, conqueror"

???=

Harmonia=

Chaos Zefirum= "zero"

Waldorf Kalliope= "muse of epic poetry"

Leon Kiasi= "fear of death"

Laurie Uberich= "above self/ ultimate self"

Julie Enantios= "opposite"

Eros=

Jay Iridos= "iridescent/ two"

Infinitii Eternos= "eternity"

Sherlock Episteme= "to know"

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Jewel= May 7th 1990 (Taurus)

***2009 WAS NOT ME!!! (as far as Gens go, that was Gamboge)

JAYCE: 02-22-10 WAS WHEN I FIRST STARTED USING MALE PRONOUNS.

April 4th 2010= art of my Gen (ON 08-3-2009, I WAS ALREADY A WHITE GEN???)

STILL NAMED "JEWEL" IN MAY 2010 THOUGH.

July 2nd 2010= "seventy four" // july 10th= razia

BY AUGUST I WAS USING INFLUTUSA (AUG. 5 NAME LOCKED IN)

REDLIGHT: December 9th, 2011 (Sagittarius)

EROS: January 4th 2012 (Capricorn)

 

memory picks up around SEPT-OCT 2013??

RESET ATTEMPT? December 5th 2013 (Sagittarius)

 

Infinitii= April 3rd 2013 (Aries)

DIED/KILLED on following dates:
May 28th (kidnapped, brought underground)

August 1st? ('parasite' threat)

…

 

Javier= July 1 2013 (still manifesting) (Cancer)

July 28th 2013 (named) (Leo)

December 27th 2013 (resurrected) (Capricorn)

 

Spine= November 26th 2008 (Sagittarius)

FOUND around July 26th 2010 (Leo)

STABILIZED on January 16th, 2011 (Capricorn)

 

Lynne = February 9th 2008? (Aquarius)

First mentioned on February 26th 2008.

THE CONCERT WAS ON APRIL 20TH 2008 (3PM)

"Died" temporarily on April 24th 2008.

RESURRECTED: December 1st 2008?? (Sagittarius)

 

Josephina= July 26th 2010 (Leo)

(met on August 13th, hence his pseudo-birthday)

 

Nathaniel= February 8th 2008 (Aquarius)

December 15th 2008

April 26th, 2009

November 20th, 2009

RESURRECTED: November 18th, 2011

STABILIZED on November 9th 2012 (Scorpio)

 

Waldorf= March 3rd 2003 (there) (Pisces)

December 3rd 2002 (ck)

November 13th 2012

 

Leon= April 18th 2010 (Aries)

RESURRECTED: December 8th, 2010 (Sagittarius)

 

Laurie= September 4th 2006 (Virgo)

 

Julie= August 18th, 2011 (Leo)

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

July 15th 2013= underground handwriting page. Einsatz and Zwei's names found. Einastz also evidenced in the car.

July 25th- mention of dread. may 2 & june 13th first listed. originally said he was a young adult!! fronted with others on dec 10.

 

algorith= November 12th 2013? (Scorpio) OR July 31st 2013 (Leo)

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 

 

timeline is largely missing from 1990 -- 2000

 

----------------------------ELEMENTARY SCHOOL-------------------------------------------

+ JEWEL LIGHTRAYE (2000-1)

+ CEL (2001)

+ HOSEKI (2002-3) (FRAGMENTED)

----------------------------high school starts-------------------------------------------

+ "third jewel" (dissolved) (2004-6?)

+ SPINNingcannon (2005-8?)

+ JESSICA (2006+?)

--------------------------------------------JOB STARTS------------------------------------------------

+ Jaqueline (2006+)

+ jennifer (2006+)

--------------------------------UNIVERSITY starts-------------------------------------------

+ CANNON (2008-9)

--------------------------ARTIST BLOODLINE SPLITS OFF------------------------------

+ CEL #2 (2009) (DISSOLVED)

+ Spinzor (2009) (SUMMER ONLY)

+ GLISSANDO (2009) (SUMMER ONLY)

+ "MANIC SPIN" (2009) (dissolved)

+ INK (2010) (UNKNOWN)

-------------------------BLOODLINE SPLITS IN HALF-------------------------------------

+ Pinstripe (2010) (DIED, FRAGMENTED)

-------------------------POST-UTAH SUICIDE ATTEMPT--------------------------------

+ "MALE JEWEL" (2011) (FRAGMENTED)

+ EROS (2012?) (SPLIT IN HALF, RESET)

--------------------------SLC TRIP MEMORY BREAK-------------------------------------

+ DEON (2012-3?) (DIED)

----------------------------------SCRATCH ATTEMPT------------------------------------------

+jay iridos (2013)

----------------------------------MASSACRE IN 2014 ------------------------------------------

+ JEWEL (2000) RETURNS

----------------------------------HARD RESET IN 2016------------------------------------------

+jay iridos (2013) RESTORED; POSSIBLE SURNAME CHANGE?

 

 

SYSTEM NO LONGER APPEARS TO HAVE A SINGLE "CORE"

 

UNKNOWN STATUS IN 2015?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 dream=

last night I don’t remember. but I woke up around 7:30am and fell back asleep with the sun shining in, which always means "waking level" dreams which are, almost guaranteed, nightmares.

I dreamt I was sitting at the kitchen table, and the devil (who was all gnarled and black and ugly) and the virgin Mary were standing there, as I was trying to eat foods.

the devil kept trying to trick me into eating bad things, etc. but Mary was helping me figure out what I really wanted, whether or not it would hurt, etc.

I clearly remember eating a mint-chocolate gluten-free cheesecake thing? it was very good.

but Mary walked me through all the "dessert foods" I kept wanting to try, making me realize I didn't really want any of them. thus helping me heal those compulsions by giving me the experience I needed to learn, without pain and wasted money/ time.



said all my morning prayers. "little white guest" is new, it made me cry, it's so beautiful.



tried to eat breakfast, around 10am? half a zucchini, and a cucumber.


then put two kabocha squash in the oven. made the mistake of "eating" the seeds though (not the shells). it gave me a rash?? and made my stomach hitch and hurt. also it burned my throat??? like it's all red and sore now, it hurts. I have no idea what happened, that has never happened before and I've been eating that squash for 3 years now.

so I ended up throwing it all up. I had to, it hurt and I was sick and scared. it made me sad but at least I got it out.

sad that I "wasted" my actual breakfast though. that was my last big zucchini.

at least I learned my lesson with the squash.

 throwing up was a "hidden blessing" as God likes to do when you trust Him anyway.

novena to saint Jude was at noon, so grandma and I went. well, vomiting made me "floaty" in the head which made me feel vaguely cozy in church, leaning into the hood of my jacket and listening to father jenkins give his homily.

the gospel was about the fig tree, I think? I remember how it "wasn't about the leaves" but about the fruit. that was in my daily personal reading. but fr. jenkins was talking about… hope, I think. I remember the last line of the homily was "after all, we have no other choice" when it came to either following Christ or not. and I liked how it sounded fatalistic but was actually a stern but gentle truth.

but I sang well despite my throat being funny. sometimes I realize the throwing up helps me vibrato easier. I wouldn't dare do it for that purpose but I have noticed.

we sang the song that was stuck in my head all day, too. "at the table."

"it will remain // a single grain, but if it dies // it will bear great fruit." something like that.




went home, had two hours before home church. took ALL the kabocha, seeded them to give to chris, and stuck every single one in the oven. I asked God/ Mary/ the Holy Spirit several times whether or not I should do this and I didn't get a no, which was surprising. but that's what I did. got it all done in an hour, got it out in an hour, and then set it aside while I went to church.




I was cantoring today. I'm not nervous about performance anymore, I know what to do. but now there's the risk of pride because people keep complimenting me and my mother keeps obsessing over my voice and I must admit, shamefully, I'm frustrated with it. it's not about me. it's not about how "pretty" my voice is. I can't get angry, that's unfair.

what I mean to say is, I have to stay humble and grateful and meek. God gave me this voice, and I want to use it for His service, and so I am.

after mass a woman told me that, effectively, "hearing someone like you singing makes me want to come to mass more often."

and that just… that's all I want from this. God gave me a beautiful voice I guess, and all I want is to praise Him with it, to put my love of Him into what I sing, to infuse that into the mass as He deserves. and I do want the congregation to feel/hear that. I love God, and I want that love in every note I sing. "may Christ be in the ears of all who hear me," as St. Patrick said. I pray that every morning now, it's one of my favorites.




the first song was "praise to the lord, the almighty, the king of creation" etc. I think. which is nice but just a normal song.

the responsorial was "the lord hears the cry of the poor" which for some reason really struck a chord with me today. maybe because of how off I felt, and how death's been whispering around me lately (metaphorically), I was humbled by it? it gave me hope, but it kept me humble. it's a hard feeling to explain. but I sang it as honestly as I could.



for the collection we sang the prayer of saint francis, which became instantly dear to my heart when it started looping in my head nonstop for several days a few weeks back-- right around the time of our divine mercy bus trip I think. I've always loved the prayer/song, but since that instance, it's meant so much to me.

I sang it as gently and honestly as I could, like right up to the microphone. that's the only way to sing to God, is from your heart.


I got to receive communion because the song only had three verses (blow among us, spirit of god) and oh. it was transcendent.



the gospel was the pharisee and the taxpayer, and the priest (that sweet old man from the oblates) actually changed the language of it to make it "kid friendly" for lack of a better term? and it made the point hit home so much more profoundly. it really did.

and it hit me too, because until that point I had felt "not quite right" about my singing and I realized it was because I was being proud. I was worrying about whether or not I sounded "good enough" or whether I was impressing my mother or not and that was draining all the sincerity out of my singing.

so I was very humbled. and I kept praying about it, asking God to teach me humility without "crushing me in humiliation;" like, could you soften me instead? could you teach me to be humble in a soft, sweet, gentle way? through virtue instead of pain and shame.

and he did. I kept praying, reminding myself of my failings, of how every soul in that church was just as blessed and precious as I was, how I was given this gift to use FOR those people and for the glory of God, not for myself… and frankly I knew all that, but I needed to humbly be reminded of it, and to use that realization to turn softer, sweeter, kinder, more loving. meek and humble of heart. it's all I want to be.



I was scared I wouldn't get to receive Holy Communion today. I asked Jesus to give me spiritual Communion and I was on my knees and He did, and as always it was just something I could barely bear. too meaningful.



it hit me. during mass. I've been trying to comprehend the Eucharist a little more every time I'm at mass, trying to understand it in my soul more completely a little more each time, to draw me deeper into it, to draw me closer to God and Jesus.

and I realized, this is a Trinity. Jesus Christ isn't just the Son of God, he IS God. and God is That Which Sang the Universe Into Being and all that. God invented music, and color, and he spun the stars into being, and he knitted the trees and their leaves together, and he painted the autumn hues and he stirs up the waters and breathes in the wind and his glory and majesty is clearly visible in the nebulas and galaxies and auroras spreading across our skies, all of that, He created ALL of that, He is transcended and ineffable and in and beyond ALL of that incomprehensible beauty… God, the Creator of All, the Grand Architect, the Artist of Life… God, the Father. ONE member of the Trinity. three persons in one. "whoever has seen me has seen the father." etc.

God the Son, Jesus Christ, is one with God the Father in a way we cannot ever truly "get" as humans. but it's true.

and so. every time we receive Holy Communion, the Father of all works in/as/through His beloved Son, who humbled His infinite self into mortal flesh for us, who died for us out of mercy and love, who became man so that we might have a path to become like Him by His grace… every time, He acts out of absolute humble love and becomes something so small again, He gives his body up for us, for us, He-- the Creator! the Creator!-- becomes bread, becomes something we can eat, becomes a tiny host so that He can nourish us in the most literal, merciful way possible, through a corporal work of Mercy, He feeds our body and soul, He mothers us, He fathers us, He wants to not only be with us but IN us, so that we can be with and in Him… He becomes bread so that we can become what it is we have partaken of. I have no proper words for this.

THAT is how much God loves us. this grand architect spun us little tiny wretched fallen lost confused creatures into existence, and He cradles us in His arms, and he loves us so much that in a universe of black holes and quarks, he deigns us feeble humans worthy of the most tender, intimate compassion… of His becoming ONE of us, of His returning to us millions of times in the Eucharist, every single day, of God offering Himself to his children as bread. as the pelican feeds its young with its own blood. as any loving parent would die for their child a thousand times. God.


and I shook on my knees and realized no wonder I always feel uneasy at Communion; how can I POSSIBLY show proper gratitude for THAT???


and that breaks my heart really, and it scares me; I adore God but I'm so weak and sinful, but He adores me just as much as he adores every other soul on this earth and that is infinite and it's the most humbling thing in the world but it's humbling because of what it does to your heart, you want to respond to that with every fiber of your being but you can't, not as a mortal, not when we keep sinning. but we try. and God still loves us, always.


I'm talking too much about this.


but when I received the Eucharist I remembered that for those few precious minutes I was a living breathing tabernacle of the Most High and I got on my knees in the choir and I can't remember how it happened but I felt that love, so gently and powerfully and profoundly, and my heart flooded with love and light and joy, and I haven't felt anything like that in months, if not longer.

I felt so far away from God for so long and that just… changed everything.



I love God so much. I really do. I hope it shines through in every moment of my life. that's all I want. God, help me to live that way ever more every day.


there's a quote I read this morning in the Magnificat book, from a saint… how our souls yearn for infinite love and God is infinite love, and He is the only thing that can satisfy it and He wants to satisfy it, He wants us to join Him in that infinite love…  that's what I feel all the time, that's what's in the Eucharist, that's the truth of our existence. it's unbearable sometimes, to realize that we'll never truly "be satisfied" until we meet Him in heaven (and oh what bliss that will be, my heart just sings and weeps in joy thinking about it) but that's hope. that's the definition of hope, and it gives birth to such virtue. joy and courage and strength in adversity.

if heaven is infinite contemplation of God, if heaven is being in His presence… there really is absolutely nothing better. that sounds paltry but it's huge and so true.

heaven = joy. to reach it, we should be willing to sacrifice anything and everything in this temporary earthly life, not as a loss, but as a willing offering of something so far less than what our heart truly yearns for. hope allows us to do that.

I need to meditate upon this daily, it will give me the strength I need to endure hardships. I need to share this with others who need it. Holy Spirit, guide me at the proper time and in the proper way to share what is Your Truth in this with others, for Your sake.



I have a very special devotion to the Holy Spirit that is growing lately, too. I want to be specially devoted to Him is what I am saying. I am growing, little my little.


I need to make a list of patron saints soon, too, with their holiday coming up.

I can see why so many people love St. Therese though, with her "little way." it's so sweet and true. and St. Faustina, she just radiates the same mercy Jesus chose her to proclaim to the world.

all I want in life is to live a life worthy of sainthood. which means, I want to glorify God by every breath, every word, thought, and act. there is no such thing as a living saint; that is a title only bestowed after death, and I firmly believe it is dictated by God as well.

all I want is to "live up to" such a title even if I'm never canonized because it's not about me and I'd be very uncomfortable if it was, so to speak. sainthood is about God.

I have to stay humble and quiet and little and pray about this always and make my every moment a prayer. with God's grace and mercy, I will get there, for His name's sake, for His greater glory, for love of Him.





after church I put all the squash away and then I sat down and ate the rest of my huge salad (lettuce, cilantro, carrot, cucumber, zucchini, salt, pepper, cinnamon, turmeric, cumin, and a splash of hemp seeds + oil) and prayed that God warn me when to stop, so I wouldn't overeat.

I wasn't really hungry? I haven't been lately. I think my body is too tired and shaken up, it needs downtime. but I needed to eat, I've been too weak. so I did and I enjoyed it very much and I didn't mess up.



I almost forgot, I had a tiny statuette of Our Lady of Guadalupe in my pocket because of the dream this morning; I prayed that she watch over me as I ate just like she did in the dream. and she did! I love my heavenly mother so much. she truly is full of grace and virtue and love. God works such wonders through her; she truly does glorify His name and His works.

no wonder so many saints write about Mary! I'm sure I could too, I'm sure anyone can when they really loved her. she's a treasure trove of grace.

I really do love her. the devil doesn't want me to, but I'll ignore him. he's a liar through and through. and I know what I feel. 



I didn't mess up at all with eating today, not after the genuine accident of the squash this morning. I'm so thankful, thank you God. I'm praying to st. Jude to cure this bulimia 100% and I genuinely believe God will do so through him. I need to cooperate but He needs to pour His grace into me first; I'm just a sinner and everything good in me is from God anyway after all. so I'm deeply, profoundly grateful for this chance to grow even more in His love and to reflect a more heavenly lifestyle here on earth.



those are two questions I keep asking myself lately. they're very important.

"does this glorify God?"

and,

"would this sort of behavior occur in heaven?"

asking myself those questions whenever I'm unsure or doubtful really puts things into perspective. they demand virtue, not crushing guilt and shame. they ask gently but sternly. which is so important. "strive to enter through the narrow gate." but it's not cruelty, it's a standard of conduct, it demands righteousness and goodness. and it's entirely worth the striving, every ounce of it.

it's helping me fix my behavior fast, too. thank you God, thank you God the most high, God the almighty Father; you are so kind and good and merciful to me; I will sing your praises forever and ever, here on earth and in the life and world to come. amen!





have a good night, everyone.

with God's grace, I will make it through tomorrow in good behavior too.

it's all surrender and trust, it's all love and joy and hope.

let God be glorified through me. if I fix my gaze on that, I'll have no reason to fear.







"be not afraid."

that was father jenkin's sermon today. told you it was important.

 

 

 

I've taken all the good parts of me,
and I've ripped them out,
and given them different names and faces and lives,
so now whenever I see a good thing
or a beautiful thing
or a happy thing
it never belongs to me.
it belongs to them.
theyare the good people, the pure people, the holy people
with bright loving hearts and a capacity for joy


and I am a cesspit of garbage.

 

(completely uncensored, brutally triggering & disturbing entry. please be careful.)

 

So Cupid was out tonight, with his red lights, as he was back in 2011 or whenever.
Remember he was the original "Eros" and holds the "public associations" with that name.

He's highly sexual but he's incapable of lust which is interesting but still problematic, because he doesn't understand how anyone could say no to it as a result.
He's not abusive. But he counts as a lost hacker because his passive coercion is EXACTLY what shoved us into abuse WAY too many times physically, and so even if he "means well" he is absolutely disrespecting the choices of others, and THAT STILL COUNTS AS ABUSE IN MY BOOK.

…that's another thing we need to speak up about. It's another thing we (I?) hated old friends for, if I may be so blunt. Ignorance of boundaries, of "safe space," or things within those lines… because we never spoke up about it out of fear that "we had no right to HAVE objections to anyone else's behavior if they meant well."BULL SHIT.
So miss blank-smiley-face comes out, numb to the hysterical panic she always comes out to muffle, just trying to keep a socially acceptable front while inside we're weeping and the kids are screaming and in the past, we never said a fucking word.
Now Wreckage comes out. Now she fights. Now people are too damn angry with our own past self-neglect and we're refusing to stomp on those gut feelings when they come up.
But… but it's only in negative situations, yet. That's progress, but… but they can still lie, and THAT'S when we get scared and confused.
Cupid comes out, and he's all gentle and solid and loving and giving, BUT he doesn't understand rejection and so he can't understand when people say NO to him.
Chaos always does. Celebi always does. They're the only two he really asks now… I know there were two others in the past, but… one is dead and the other doesn't exist in headspace.
…Cupid was born to try and reconcile our stupidly passionate ardor towards everything with the constant outside social demand that "it HAS to be sexual!!! if you love something that potently it HAS to be sexual!!!!" or even WORSE, even WORSE, and that's the source of so much hatred it's nauseating-- even worse, we get the message that "if you love someone that intimately, it has to be lust."
bull. fucking. shit.
Cupid was at least proof that it isn't.
…But he's also the fear that we still only have that option of expression, something that doesn't even fit, something that doesn't even fucking WORK and even HE dissociates from it!!!!!! What the hell does THAT tell you????!!?

…The sheer amount of symptoms we get from this shit is bad enough.
muscle twitches, headaches, nausea, unease, sorrow/ guilt/ fear, dizziness, clumsiness, body weakness, sweating, anxiety, compulsive crying, chills… the list goes on.
every. damn. TIME.
WHY THE HELL DOES THIS DATA NOT REACH THE CULPRITS????????


I'm sorry. I'm just… channeling all the anger for this shit. "That's my job" and all that. I'm just a mouthpiece for the rage. I have no knowledge of this firsthand and I DON'T WANT IT.


Anyway. As a result I can't talk much about Cupid's experience of all this other than the knowledge that he's terribly lost and confused now that he CAN'T stay half-ignorant and depersonalized, now that people are REFUSING TO LET HIM COERCE THEM. Now Cupid is forced to really look at what the hell he's attempting and WHY people keep refusing to do it, "even though he loves them," and "even though they love him."
That's Cupid's curse. He was born from the false, false, FALSE message delivered with good intentions-- and God help us with that-- telling us that "if you really love someone, if you completely love someone, you have to do that with them, no matter what, eventually."
That's where all the fear-based love-based forcing came from. Isn't that a conundrum?
"I love you so they say we have to do this but I don't like it and it hurts and I'm terrified and no matter how many times I try it never ever EVER works… but I love you and I'm so scared that if I don't do this then my love's not real, it's not complete, it's not complete, even if this feels like shredding me into pieces."

it's bullshit.

Laurie doesn't like us stealing her phrase but now she looks really worried, she's upset that we need that phrase to describe what we're talking about,

she says she's trying to keep her distance from this actual discussion. Says she's a protector, a knight, someone who saves the lost and hurt, not someone who digs through this dirt. Other people can do that job. Laurie would die if she looked at this head-on.
I'm afraid she's been trying too much already, out of fear, out of panic, feeling she's not doing enough, feeling there has to be something more she can do to save people… she's trying too hard, numbing too much out, hurting too badly, and she's slipping REALLY badly and if she's not careful she's going to end up dying, killing herself from the effort. She's already splintering just to cope. That's gotta stop.


…
Tomorrow is therapy. I wonder if we can get someone out to talk about this.
I don't mean the hacks, she knows enough about them.
I mean the roots of WHY they keep happening, the roots even beneath the misleading outside words, the roots that unintentionally feed the fears that bear fruits of self-annihilation and sacrifice "for someone's better good."
even for cupid. it's always that motivation. "they said this could be an expression of love,"
was I ever? did it ever work?
the one time you tried harder than ever, the first damn time you EVER decided to risk every fucking thing JUST to heal this, for the sake of love, for the sake of God and healing and peace,
guess what,
you almost fucking killed yourself.
the pain, the regret, the guilt, the shame, was unbearable,
and why?
because it didn't live up to their fucking promises AT ALL.

and you hated yourself for having ever believed that bullshit,
once you experienced firsthand how inadequate it all was.

yeah, you tried. we all know cupid tried WAY too hard that year, to fix things.
we all know that even after the reset, infinitii was born to keep trying too hard from a different perspective.
there was never any lust in it. there was always too much love in it.
but the problem was that in every single case you forgot you had a body.
it only ever worked on paper.
it only ever worked as a concept.
do you realize this? do you understand this, cupid? jacinth? all you other lost 'hackers?'
do you realize what it means for that term to be applied to you?
"but we're not hacking anyone," he pleads, "but we're not hurting anyone,"
you are.
"but I didn't mean to,"
but you did.
"how? it's not supposed to hurt!"
have you ever fucking felt it yourself?
LOOK at your damn memories!! actually FEEL what the damn BODY is doing for once, get out of your idealized head and FEEL what the hell you're ACTUALLY DOING.
…and he shuts up.
shuts it out.
talk to me, damn it.
(now laurie's watching over my shoulder.)
Kid, talk.
…about what?
About this. Whatever she asked you. Do you realize what you were doing?
…I didn't want to do that.
Uh-huh, and there it is. Well guess what? You did. Can you fucking cope with that?
No.
Now we're blacking out, shit. Overload, get your ass back in here, he's gone.

…What did you do?
Asked him if he realized what he was really doing, which required cognizance of the body. Guess what? Instant fucking dissociation. Can't cope. It's like that with all of them, God damn it, NONE of them can front in the body, not ever, and then they wonder why the hell we're getting trauma flashbacks? Why the hell they're actually perpetuating trauma and don't realize it?
How don't they even realize that they're in the body?
Because they're not. They're totally outside of it, detached from it completely. For Eros, this… wait, no. Eros broke off of that shit. Cupid's the one we're talking about. …
…He's dead, isn't he.
Eros? …Yeah, temporarily. Jay said he won't come back until we fix this, he refuses to get dragged into it again. …Good for him.
…So what's Cupid doing that's perpetuating this?
You said it yourself, kid, he's forgetting that the… whatever the hell he's doing, this drive to "merge" with people or whatever, to express "sensual love" or however it translates for him--
That's the wrong term, it's not 'sensual.'
Yeah, I got that, but it's… close enough? Shit, that's a problem right there, it's going to translate wrong and fuck everything up if we don't find a better word.
Can you define it?...
Me? Fuck no, I-- Sherlock, get in here, define that shit.
Me?
Can you get the data?
I-- let me see. …It's the merge drive, Laurie, just like you said.
Shit.
And it only translates for humans-- average humans-- in a physical context. In a literal sense.
And they told him it "has" to be that way, right?
Right, for religious purposes. You're as well aware of the amount of spiritual research that has gone into this topic as I am, Laurie.
…Yeah, no shit. Too damn much.
Too much indeed, I agree. …Laurie, the head is slipping very badly, do you need anything else from me?
Nah, not until we get our shit together is all. Maybe then we will, maybe then we won't even be talking. But shit, this is why we can't talk about this topic to the therapist, because the brain immediately shuts down.
It can't cope either, Laurie.
…Yeah, I got that. The only people who can semi-cope with this topic are Eros and Cupid and maybe Jay and Infinitii and-- I don't know. But they're all on the wrong fucking topic because the very core of this problem is MISTRANSLATION and… shit.
…?
…We've gotta talk about this with the therapist.
Which part?
The part about… about Jay contributing to this? That's what it keeps pointing to.
What, Jay and Infinitii?
Almost. His splinters, maybe. Adakias? Is that the one?
Who's like Cupid? Maybe, I don't fucking know.
How is he like Cupid?
Well, how else would he fit into this damn topic?
No, I… he's different, I don't know. I can't get this data and my head is fuzzy and breaking and it feels awful and I'm going to scream if I'm not careful.
Then don't, kid, don't stick around if we're getting bad. I might just have to turn this into a data stream and type, running it through people sure as hell isn't working, we can't manage this topic as conversation.



The main concern with mistranslation currently, the roots we previously mentioned, are the religious/spiritual motivation behind sexuality/sensuality/ what have you.
Jay holds this the most, shockingly, because he has no inclination towards anything even vaguely sexual or sensual, at least not in his purest form. He does splinter somewhat, to sharper prismed forms, and his most common one is the one which he takes when he interacts with daemons. This is a common side of Jay-- the one that gets confused more than anyone else, arguably, but secondhandedly.
This splinter of Jay, which has no name of its own because it's so close to his true self, is terrifically "sensual" but not in a sensual way? Hence the mistranslation. "Sensuality" for us is cerise in color, all curves and velvet and low lights, warm and soft but deep and NO sharpness anywhere, which sexuality has. Sexuality is neon pink and orange and it's too sharp, like hot needles, and it hurts and it's tangled and fast like static in the head, all noise and confusion, and no one likes it because it turns your consciousness off and just gives you headaches and sickness.
Anyway. Jay's daemon-state disposition is not either of those things.

Let's categorize a little, for the sake of clarity.
Jay is into spiritual cardiophagy and melting/ shifting of form, all very "teeth sinking into cloud" feeling, very precise and intimate and deep but thick as far as sensation data goes? It's all sparkle-white in color, that or deep black, but still with iridescence in it. (The whole legit heart-connection core feeling has that sparkly rainbow color to it.) But it's the exact opposite of density; it's all so light and floaty and unbearably clear at times, like a spotlight shining through glass. Like a prism, fittingly.
Eros is a lighter Cerise than the one "sensuality" is defined as, something clearer like saturated glass. He's tied to close platonic intimacy, the kind that most people would never define as "platonic" solely because of how close it is, but there is NO romance or romantic overtones to his vibe. This seems ironic because Eros loves the aesthetic of "romantic" environments although he takes that motivation out of them entirely. He's similar to Jay in that he loves everything but Jay's love is more sparkly and crystalline, whereas Eros's is deeper and richer. It's very hard to put into words. Neither of them deal with sensual things in the way it is traditionally defined, though. No touching, no flirting, no romance. None at all.
Cupid is the darker richer cerise we described earlier, 100%. He resonates most strongly with Christmas lights and plush robes and blankets. He almost always only comes out in the winter. He's highly dangerous because he still uses sexuality BUT he's actually ignorant of what sex actually is, using it only as an "applied concept" that "matches what he feels," except it doesn't actually and that's slowly starting to sink in with him, again due to him being forced to be aware of his actions and mostly-programmed motivations.
Jacinth is tied to sexuality, not sensuality, because everything she feels hurts and she's almost always depersonalized to terrible extremes. She exists to sacrifice herself for the "ideal lie" that was sold to her, to sell herself to those she views as innocent and loving and pure enough to be sacrificed to, but she annihilates all self-awareness in the process and focuses only on those girls.
Azalea is pure sexuality in an introjected sense, the "girls act like this" terrifying shit that somehow got into our psyche, the homogenous teenage-girl aesthetic and behavior that we only ever associated with sexual abuse. She is that, more explicitly and horrifyingly than anyone else in the System.
Anna is adult female sexuality in the "passive" sense, which scares us to DEATH and we can't even think about her. She's the "receptive woman" stereotype but she's purely toxic and terrifying and Simeon is scared to death of her because she's just like the other one.
Sharona is adult female sexuality in the "dominant woman" stereotype which means that she will make you sleep with her because "she likes it" or some bullshit. She's the internalized toxic edge of the "a real woman is sexually independent and ferocious" crap we've heard in pieces but the problem is, inside she also holds the introjection of past teachings, which means she's focused on making our children allosexual because "that'll make you a REAL man/woman" or whatever the hell.
Jezebel torments us by spitting sexual innuendo and phrases and accusations all the time, but the more we talk to her the more we realize she doesn't give a shit about that stuff. The real Jezebel, the one rooted into Black, actually isn't sexual at all and just uses that crap to torture others.
Jessica is sexual in the way the family and public always wanted her to be, "enjoying" it however the hell she does, but one weird thing about her data is that she has no interest in other people. She's entirely autosexual. She's attracted to herself and honestly doesn't give a shit about anyone else. Which is disturbing and bizarre but true.
There's another "Jezebel" that's Brown and has the short spiky hair, and she's also autosexual but she's the one who is, for lack of a better term, a slut. She's hypersexual and disgustingly promiscuous and she treats our body like a toy. She's THE MOST DANGEROUS HACKER IN THE SYSTEM because she has no conscience and cannot be reasoned with.

Those are all the main people tied to this, for good and for ill.


As for all the other hackers, lost and otherwise… you know what, let me type about that too, because we never have and the therapist could use this data.
Going from the System List on this blog…

Bridget and Missy haven't been out for a very very long time, and are possibly dead. They only ever worked as accomplices to Julie when she was corrupted, essentially "holding her victims down" while she did whatever. The two never individually acted as hackers, only ever as a group.
"The stripper" rarely ever appears but she's an adult woman in the same vein as Anna and Sharona. Her color is Red and she has a very one-track mind, performing lascivious acts for an "audience," and surprisingly never really "into it" herself if that makes sense? I don't understand sexual motivations or thoughts, maybe she has those, but there's no emotional ties or actual feelings. She's just performing, for the sake of riling people up, and objectifying herself. She has no real sense of self either; as far as she's concerned she exists solely to dance on a pole as lewdly as possible until her job is done. Then she stops existing.
"The Lesbian" only ever came out on the porch in the past, during the summers, and she was an absolute introject of the "chubby Tumblr lesbian" aesthetic that we kept getting shoved down our throats in the name of "sexual freedom" or whatever the hell it was. (No offense to those people and their lives; we're just furious that we introjected it as "you were born with a female body and part of you was semi-attracted to women so you have no other choice but to be like THIS.") Anyway we think she only existed to try and "mimic" those people, so she had shallow roots and only ever came out in the wake of other hackers like Jessica and Jezebel.
Jasmine is HOPEFULLY DEAD because she was terrifying. She was an introject of the "pagan sexuality" thing we had shoved on us by both our mother and the internet, the whole idea of "born female = inherently sexual" fused with "nature is female and therefore inherently sexual" (again, no idea where this came from or how mangled it got), and that all mutated into a very ugly mindset of "nature itself requires that you offer yourself up to it sexually as a woman" and the real killer was that this was done with a SMILE. that was the curse of the spiritual aspect, the sick good-girl flat willingness to "do whatever God wanted" (which Christina personifies), which here basically turned into Jasmine existing to do nothing but sexualize both nature and herself. She was HORRIBLY DANGEROUS because she kept trying to convert people and I'm not sure but she MIGHT have actually hacked someone personally??? I don't know but either way she's gone, for now at least and hopefully forever. She only ever comes out in the summer so we'll need to put up heavy safeguards until then just in case.

The Tar and Plague don't actually ever hack people in and of themselves; they're raw congealed negative energy and it's only when they work through an alter or headvoice that problems and danger happen.
By itself, the Tar is just maniacal rage and destruction and screaming, and it will torment everyone just to torment them. It lives to destroy things wantonly, to attack physically and without conscience.
By itself, the Plague is calcified apathy and pride and hate, and it attacks people more through words and lies, through psychological manipulation. It will lead you to hell and then just strand you there.

Cleaver has nothing to do with sexuality. They rarely ever appear at all, but as far as we're aware they're the lingering split from Razor (her sister, technically) that still likes cutting meat in a very dangerous sense. They are the outlet for childlike single-minded sheer red violence. No mania, no fury, just a sort of slasher-smile obsession with sinking knife blades into people's backs.
The "child" is actually "the pedophile" but she's so disturbingly bizarre that we don't like talking about her. She is a personification of our own collective experience of being sexually objectified in our childhood, thank God never explicitly, but it was often and clear enough to leave scars. She's also badly lost because, being inherently tied to childhood, she holds SOME VERY IMPORTANT ROOTS of our being wrongfully taught that our desperate young needs for intimacy and closeness and affection were sexual, because we couldn't get any of those things in non-sexual contexts, which is heartbreaking and disgusting but it's what she holds, and it's why she can only comprehend sexuality in a childhood context. For her, adults are "scary and smelly and disgusting" and she appears incapable of even comprehending adults, let alone adulthood itself. For her, sexuality IS those childhood drives, except wrongfully applied to literal sex, and as a result she doesn't understand adult sexuality either. So although she does pursue sexuality in a way too young age group-- remember, for us, even teenage girls were viewed as abusers (thanks to Julie's original self) and so the only "safe" people were 13 or younger… the same age as we were when this happened. But the bottom line with this girl is that in the end she's only ever looking for fulfillment of a need so intense and unfulfilled, a need to just be close to another human being, to EXPRESS love and affection for once in our life, to feel wanted and loved… but in her experience, in our experience, the closest facsimile we got to any of that was through sexuality, through Julie, before we even hit high school. So it's a wreck. She's very very complicated but very very important because of all this shit tangled up in her existence.
The Androgyne is someone that only ever interacted with Laurie, and their role was similar to Jacinth's in that they existed for self-sacrifice, but they had a sense of self (which Jacinth does not) and THEIR motivation was a spiritual teaching that bored into our head-- essentially, "when you have sex with someone, your energies temporarily fuse. so don't have sex with anyone you don’t want to become." and this kid, who took the "androgyne" name and manifestation both because that was the "spiritual ideal" and they couldn't imagine being anything else, took that teaching to heart in reverse, and was born from the mindset of "I should only have sex with people I want to become." take this and apply it to a damaged, ruined, battered sense of self and suddenly it becomes obligatory, desperate: "I need to have sex with good people so that I become like them." there was no lust in it at all, just a sort of driving hopeless mission, a last-ditch effort to heal in a totally twisted way, through destruction of one's own self and the absorption of someone else's. literally, the androgyne's motivation was to stop existing and become someone else, someone GOOD. so at the most basic level, all they wanted was to die, for their ugly tortured past to die with them, and for someone they chose as utterly perfect to take over their life instead, therefore "redeeming them." it's impossible and a broken assumption, but this kid never considered that.
"The Scientist" is another deadly fronter who, admittedly, may be one of my splinters. I'm the one who types about sheer data, like this. I'm related to Sherlock but I'm faceless so I don't have that getting in the way of my impersonal deliverance of facts. The Scientist, on the other hand, is me broken into a "testing" phase, a mindset of "gathering every bit of data we can about this," which apparently results in hacks? I am not responsible for them and actually find it difficult to find data on it, possibly due to my ties to it, so this is preventing me getting infected. The bottom line is, The Scientist has no sense of right or wrong, only of observation and testing of hypotheses, and they have been responsible for several "flat hacks" solely for the sake of "figuring out what is actually happening here." Such 'testing' is unnecessary and cruel and even thinking about such behavior is making me nauseous, I'm sorry.
"Fogbank" is the infamous "flat fronter" who has a vibe and appearance shockingly similar to Ashen, which in a way is not surprising. She exists solely to depersonalize. She is ruled by a dense apathy forged through crushing depression and the inability to cope with reality, so she is incapable of actually feeling any emotion. She comes out whenever the situation gets too dire, and the brain needs to "shut down," or at least prevent anyone from fronting or talking that would "make the pain/ fear/ panic/ shame/ etc. worse." As the experiences that created her were exactly of that format, she automatically is summoned to prevent them from ever happening again. She has INCREDIBLY POWERFUL FRONTING RIGHTS and she is almost impossible to switch out-- the only way to bypass her is to completely check out of awareness, effectively doing a "soft reset" of consciousness by removing everyone from fronting and withdrawing all consciousness from the body. This allows us to re-enter awareness with enough forgetfulness of the previous situation and/or a stable enough fronter to prevent Fogbank from being triggered again immediately.
"Lace Braids" is another very rare fronter, who nevertheless was out enough times to merit mention. She was a passive abuse receiver, one who only ever appeared in "morning hacks," due to fitting the "innocent good girl" aesthetic that the early morning dizziness/ vulnerability matched well enough. Again, her existence is a huge red flag because she's about fourteen at most, wearing two brown braids and wearing a lacy one-piece summer dress, something like a long camisole. She is sexualized innocence as an alter, and the fact that she exists in a half-asleep state is EXTREMELY upsetting because she therefore exists just to take what's forced on her with a gauzy smile, running on programmed emotions, feeling the way she was told to feel and believing it entirely, because she doesn't have a sense of self to compare against it. She doesn't have the capacity to question her situation because she's not entirely conscious SO SHE CAN SURVIVE IT.
Moxie is a damaged child and she is NOT a hacker but a victim. Unlike David, Marigold, and Simeon, Moxie has actually felt abuse and, as usual (an awful phrase), it's been at the hands of adult female hackers, who manipulated her into thinking that "this is what mommy does when she loves you" and where the HELL did we introject that from,
the bottom line is, she's like ten or eleven, we see this same forced childhood sexuality in the leagueworlds now because this damaged part of our psyche doesn't know how else to think and THAT is something we need to tell the therapist about, tomorrow.
Ashen is the last one. She's about 14, tops. She took all the Julie abuse, that we can tell. She was the first one to be explicitly ravaged in that sense and it shattered her absolutely, and deep down, that part of our psyche, that young part that became her broken heart, never ever healed.
She's convinced that's she's broken forever, totally and hopelessly and in such a way that she's worthless, and that agonizing despair paved the way for so much self abuse, especially the non-sexual self-loathing alters like the indigo Jessica and all the eating-disorder people and all that… it's a mess.
But Ashen took the worst of it, more than anyone. She suffered this before it made any sense, before we even attempted to cope, before we started to splinter and split and further introject abusers in desperate mangled attempts to survive. Ashen was the first, and she has more scars than anyone.



so tomorrow's topic is.
start healing the childhood-sexualization that we experienced and perpetuated through confusion and sadness and fear, and
figure out what the heck to do with this stuff cupid keeps perpetuating, which is an offshoot of the above topic, but applied to adulthood now that people like jay experience real dedicated love with SUCH passion behind it that everyone outside tells us it has to be sexual, or even worse that it MUST be sexual for RELIGIOUS reasons,
religion and sexuality are fused in our headspace, have we ever told her that before?
that’s one hell of an interesting but heartbreakingly frustrating topic, it's what jay is tied to intimately, it's something that's still dear to our hearts despite terrifying us and confusing us and we WANT to talk about it but there are no words for it and the words people are giving us are WRONG.

there's that statue of saint teresa though, the one right on our alternate blog, and it's EXACTLY what goes on in heart connections, jay says he knows exactly what that is like,
that's what this is about, that's what we need,
but it's metaphysical.

and all these poor children are just looking for something here on earth and they're not getting it but they're being lied to and they're so damn trusting they figure that's better than nothing I guess.


god this is awful.
but at least we made some progress in knowledge today.


now if you'll excuse us. we have to get up early tomorrow, and we're so tired from today that we're falling asleep standing up, so good night.