Some time ago I used to be a compulsive letter writer, writing letters to various girls I'd met trying to win their non-existent affections for me. I tended to absorb them into me so I could press the right buttons to get what
I wanted, in theory anyway. None of them ever did. I wrote myself into a
hole over the years, until 1996. When I quit drinking I gave up letter
writing as well. But one stubborn case still haunted me for the next 19
years. I had to get rid of the complex I built around her. How did I do
that? I demoted her from princess to fiend and spread the gospel. I then prayed I be avenged of her constantly for months. Somehow some way I don't understand she was flushed out of me finally, and I had the peace of mind I longed for during all of those 35 years of rejection. I took back that
region of my mind that she occupied. It was mine again. Then the obsession left and I perceived her as being dead. If she was still living I was satisfied that my Lord had chastened her. Every act of sex was a
persecution. If she wanted out, she got what she wanted. But I'll never be able to recover the large sector of my life that went to waste because of
her. That waste wasn't all her fault. I learned what I learned and it's overwith. My mind is my mind and its community property is buried out of my awareness. I take medication for mental illness to specifically and intentionally block it out. There was a day when she exploited my
predicament with her to specifically and intentionally hurt me and kill me
if she could. So welcome to the world of woman I guess. Maybe so, Billy
Joel. And there is more. Maybe another day.
I am satisfied that she's been chastened by a Power Greater than myself, the particular genre of God that I worship, dead or alive. If living her weakness/liability/vulnerability will be channeled into something useful to God, her God, her Jesus or whomever. Would she be an agnostic? It doesn't matter. She's been blind sighted with a definitive which without it she'd
join the clouds. She gets to pick and choose that definitive, just so long
as she commits to that her savior and sticks to her guns.
Even so, certainty is generally an illusion, but repose is not the destiny
of this woman.
I have a sick mind, and I can't heal my sick mind with my sick mind. I have all the help from my psychiatrist, case manager, therapist, family and
friends in recovery. Even so I can't think my way into better living. I
must live my way into better thinking. My mind produces garbage. There was just no way around it. If I was going to burn the trash today I had to
carry and burn the trash. It was uncomfortable but I let my muscles take
the lead. I let my actions take the lead and put my thinking in its place.
I couldn't think my way around getting the trash burned without actually carrying it an burning it. My mind is fucked up. I am a #1 sicko. I need
all the help I can get to get just a little better, even if that means a
cage to keep me in or burned at the stake to atone for all the hell I've
been to others. (There I was, There I've been.)
If 100% of bandwidth is allotted to God in legacy, it can always be taken
back. However if 0% of bandwidth is allotted to God, He may then choose to shut Grand Central Station down for good, which He can and probably will,
like O-negative blood.
I am already branded for the second death. That's my destiny.