A wrongdoer manipulated my life, like an abuser experimenting with a youngster. He turned me into a wild animal. I’m the product of someone’s playful mischief. Aren’t we all?
My body is a defective vessel — a vehicle which will expire. Something or hopefully someone will come out of it alive. A different dummy shall step out of it and face a new reality.
But right now, what am I to do? Be gloomy? How can I not be. I’m this weird creature, controlled by even weirder ones. There is no way out. Or is there? I must wait for the metamorphosis to occur. I wish the process would accelerate. Is suicide the answer?
Is killing my body unnatural? So many do it. Has it become the norm yet? We all do it gradually. Life does it naturally. I can make myself sick physically. It’s easy. But I stubbornly keep my body healthy. Why? Maybe because it hurts when I don’t.
But now my soul hurts. Is it better to have a hurting spirit? Having to drag this body along is painful. And when it dies, what kind of body will I be given? Who will decide? Maybe I will be able to choose. My angel said he could shapeshift. Wow!
I can’t wait to have a shapeshifting body.
My dominant plays god. That’s what he does. My evolution would happen naturally if only he would let it be. But he wants to play divinity. Prick. And I’m stuck under his authority for a while. Like I have a say in what I let my children do. But kids grow, and sooner or later we lose our authority over them. It’s a liberation process. How long will this go on regarding this Daemon? Does it depend on me or on him?
I am enduring but not so patient. Let go of me, bitch!
So I ended up here, in this environment. But still, he has a hold on me.
Let go already, thickheaded control-freak!