The Ghosts of the Dead Become More REAL.
When I was involved in ordering killing, or at least encouraging it, inciting, etc... I was mostly a puppet who no one told what was going on, but I threw out threats all the time, thinking no one gave a damn what I said anyways.
The things I know now are what I could have used to have done this right. Learning about the world of intelligence, and the heart of the problem being wealth dispersal, and now that I have alienated allies with behavior unintended to do so.... while being filmed by a group of megalomaniacal actors who think being watched is cool... thought my life was a show, to make money, or to get people killed, or to pirate the world for the hell of it? Now that I know more, though certainly still little, I cannot light enough candles or incense for the dead to show them how I mourn. I mourn day and night. This has become a part of my being, and often I seek distractions, though most of the time I use the cat of nine tails on my back.
I was thinking today about how if all I have done was for nothing... and that is why I cling to my small bit of influence and try to use it in wiser ways than I have known before. I do not know your secret world and I never have. I was not trying to take over the world that really exists, I rebelled against the matrix, an artist using my fifteen minutes to blow the minds of the bourgeoisie. I still cannot bear to think of children seeing that life. People being forced to take insane orders that did not exist from actions I took in my life, every day shit.... I did not write what others were not about England. Keeping from me all of this. Extending such misery. I do not know if my name will ever mean much to many again, after once being very empowering. I never lived my life thinking I was all this famous and shit, that truly surprised me. Then when this changed to Infamous...
I thought I was involved in a personal matter. I thought I deserved the privacy of my home and that had been stolen from me. I had no clue getting cable got me back in some fucking game. Mary Ann was the first to point out that they seemed to be seeing us again.... there is nothing creepier. I would rage against this weird world I could not understand, though I would not at ll had I truly understood. When it did, I tried to be careful to offend no one... then wrote the most fucking offense thing in the world to some people... I do not know all the reasons, I was afraid, broke, weak, my memories of hospitals destroying my mind as much as the extra narcotics and weed and heroin. I wanted the genocide stopped. I forget... compartmentalize so much pain people have been thru... I would not know how to begin to make it go away... it is just there, triggered at times. I need to think about these things, it is my job.. an idea man. They said in the end. Whatever the hell that means.
I would re write my entire life, but that would not be the will of God and so many things turned out right that looked like huge mistakes at first. Some are, were, and will be perhaps, perhaps... The world I envision is not going to come true. We will die in fire and lightening.
The things I know now are what I could have used to have done this right. Learning about the world of intelligence, and the heart of the problem being wealth dispersal, and now that I have alienated allies with behavior unintended to do so.... while being filmed by a group of megalomaniacal actors who think being watched is cool... thought my life was a show, to make money, or to get people killed, or to pirate the world for the hell of it? Now that I know more, though certainly still little, I cannot light enough candles or incense for the dead to show them how I mourn. I mourn day and night. This has become a part of my being, and often I seek distractions, though most of the time I use the cat of nine tails on my back.
I was thinking today about how if all I have done was for nothing... and that is why I cling to my small bit of influence and try to use it in wiser ways than I have known before. I do not know your secret world and I never have. I was not trying to take over the world that really exists, I rebelled against the matrix, an artist using my fifteen minutes to blow the minds of the bourgeoisie. I still cannot bear to think of children seeing that life. People being forced to take insane orders that did not exist from actions I took in my life, every day shit.... I did not write what others were not about England. Keeping from me all of this. Extending such misery. I do not know if my name will ever mean much to many again, after once being very empowering. I never lived my life thinking I was all this famous and shit, that truly surprised me. Then when this changed to Infamous...
I thought I was involved in a personal matter. I thought I deserved the privacy of my home and that had been stolen from me. I had no clue getting cable got me back in some fucking game. Mary Ann was the first to point out that they seemed to be seeing us again.... there is nothing creepier. I would rage against this weird world I could not understand, though I would not at ll had I truly understood. When it did, I tried to be careful to offend no one... then wrote the most fucking offense thing in the world to some people... I do not know all the reasons, I was afraid, broke, weak, my memories of hospitals destroying my mind as much as the extra narcotics and weed and heroin. I wanted the genocide stopped. I forget... compartmentalize so much pain people have been thru... I would not know how to begin to make it go away... it is just there, triggered at times. I need to think about these things, it is my job.. an idea man. They said in the end. Whatever the hell that means.
I would re write my entire life, but that would not be the will of God and so many things turned out right that looked like huge mistakes at first. Some are, were, and will be perhaps, perhaps... The world I envision is not going to come true. We will die in fire and lightening.
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