His death is like losing a child to me. Sixteen years of keeping him from danger, making sure he was fed... the only time I ever failed him, was when I was being drugged and bugged by whoever..
This week has sucked all around. I distanced myself from my beloved brothers because I can take only so much abuse before I strike out.
Buks death goes along well with the death of all the dreams of the writer I used to be. He always sat at the top of the keys, or on my lap, as I typed. I used to dream that people would finally notice me... then when they did, it was horrible. Just horrible.
I will never forgive this country for what happened to me. I will never forget. People would like me better if I just decided to pretend nothinng happened to me. If I just pretended that we have a fair government, and voted like a good little empty headed sheep.
How any of this is possible... what happened to me... I have no idea. This world is certainly a hidden place. The masons, the pope, the government... who would have thunk they were anything sinister... well, a lotof people, but not me... not until I ran up against them.
They count on people not believing me... yet so many people know about me. How is it even possible for me to continue on living? I guess because sometimes I get pissed by all this. Pissed feels better than defeated.
I have basically pulled back from Facebook. I am not going to go around having polite conversations with people I do not know... the peer pressure on that thing is to be mediocre, non-controversial. Like most people live. Too late for me to go back to that kind of thinking.
I heard a song by the arctic monkeys that reminded me of myself, though I have no idea what it was about... there was a line, You puff out your chest and walk around like you won.'
That's me in a nutshell. I didn't know what was going on, just wanted to bring a little more justice into this world, then they provoked me with sleeplessness, pain, and drugs. Tried to destroy me. Well, they almost succeeded. They have certainly destroyed any chance of myever having a literary career.
What is the point in all this writing I do, if the government is just going to make sure that I never achieve any success? I guess I could say that I do it just to spite them. In a way, that is true. Mostly though, there is nothing else I can do.
There never was. I was manipulated. I was writing poetry... it inspired acts I do not even know about.... the ones I saw were bad enough. Trying to organize liberals and bring down Bush was my intent, but they had to fuck with me, insert their Jesus into my head... weird how people were so ready to believe nonsense.
I don't even feel like this life I have is worth living. Everything is crippled and broken, from my personal relationships, to my career, to my body and spirit.
How do I live on? I was just trying to re-enter into society in a way, going to concert, getting out more... now, with Buk's death, I am right back where I was... feeling like I went up against some serious shit, and they defeated me.
I saw the simpsons episode again last night, about Maggie becoming the child of peace, than getting replaced by a demonic bart. That is a nice metaphor for early on. When the drugging and the poetry started, I was filled with love for everyone and all types of music. It was a wonderful feeling. I heard the DJ's talking about this shit going on with me all the time. I should have went out before I did, but I was overwhelmed, and had no idea what was happening in the world. I tried to make it out like I did, but how could I have? Yes, messages were given to me on the tv and shit, but they were usually just pointing out the obvious to me. What I want to know is who is really in charge of this world? It sure as hell is not the government that we vote for. They became pawns fairly quickly to the poeople who backing me.
I never expected to have any success at starting a campaign, but they were so afraid of me... why I kept wondering? Back then I chalked it up to some spiritual explanation for myself that I did not know about.
Was the whole christ ideation in my head merely a brainwashed implant? Funny, I know all these people who know more about this than they let on... but what am I supposed to do?
I still see the guy who came up to me one day, and told me that I am Jesus Christ, and the entire world knows. Hard to believe he works for the government...
I used to think that there was some way out of this maze. That there were honest people in this world. Now, I know that most people are willing to go right along with this madness.
I can barely type... so sad. Buk represents another time, sixteen years ago, when I was a happiesh bachelor, working at a good job, working out, had a decent enough girlfriend and sometimes a bit on the side. I was not always happy. I did feel like if I just kept writing, one day something good would come of it, but I cannot see what good has come from my work.
The one thing I do know...