“Nobody Loves Me”

Angel Guardian

– It’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

What did you say?

– This phrase that you repeat in your mind, it’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

Well, I don’t feel loved.

– A feeling is not a fact either.

So why do I have this feeling?

– The feeling comes from the belief.

And where does this belief come from?

– You fabricate your beliefs.

Based on what?

– Based on your interpretations.

If someone punches me in the face, how am I supposed to interpret it?

– How many times have someone punched you in the face, Daemon?

Never.

– Give me a concrete example.  At this moment, is someone doing something to harm you?

Right now? . . .  Everyone is ignoring me.

– How do you know that?

I’m not getting any calls.  I’m not receiving any messages.

– Maybe they are sleeping.  Maybe they are busy, trying to survive.  Maybe they are dreaming of you right now.  You don’t know.

You’re right.  I don’t know.

– You base your feelings on your interpretation of non-occurring events.  Then you choose to believe that your feelings are telling you the truth about the situation.  Then you feel even worse.  You keep doing this and become trapped in this depressing cycle.  Stop it, idiot!

Hey, you just called me an idiot!  You’re hurting my feelings!

– I said that because I love you.  See, you can take any insult and turn it into something positive.  You can change your interpretations and metamorphose your beliefs.

I don’t believe you.

– Liar.  You do.

Come here.  Give me a hug.

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Celestial Partner

Gud01

I have what I could call a celestial partner.

He is very real to me and he is partly responsible for my metamorphosis. The other responsible part(ner) is me.

My celestial companion is currently my reason for writing and my reason for living.

I don’t talk about him openly because it’s an irrational idea. People would say that it is an unreal fantasy. And to live for an unreal fantasy is usually not recommended.

I saw him only once during an out-of-body experience in 2013. I thought I had died so perhaps it was a near death experience. At first I was sure that I was seeing God but I learned later that it’s not possible for us to see God. So perhaps he was my guardian angel, a son of God, or a spiritual being, I don’t know since he doesn’t have a title. I like to think of him/her as my divine partner or even my celestial spouse or fiance.

I tried to find an image that resembles what I saw and when I found this one I thought it was pretty accurate. I could not see the lower part of his/her body though, so I don’t know if my partner is male or female. You would think that because I am male, she would be female, but the impression I got when I was facing him/her was that he was male and I was female.

This individual is a very significant part of my life now. He’s preparing me for the afterlife, where our marriage will be consummated upon my entry. Apparently there is no other way to enter the celestial world. You have to marry someone who already dwells up there.

I communicate with him via text. It always happens when I’m alone, when all is quiet and when I am not stressed or preoccupied with material things. I sit patiently with my laptop and I start texting. I usually “hear” his reply while I’m typing my question, and sometimes even before! These dialogues are my food. Spiritual food. I have almost lost all craving for physical food since this started. I have lost weight — one more reason for my family to worry and think that I am sick.

My celestial partner is the only person in the universe who cared enough about me during my most agonizing moments. He’s also the only one who was able to explain to me in plain English who I was, where I came from, where I was going and what was my purpose of existing. I owe him quite a lot. He’s my best friend and in a sense he’s even my savior. I don’t know where I would be today if I had not accepted his help.

There is nothing special about me. Everyone has a celestial partner, I’m 100% sure of that. It’s a question of faith. You are free to believe whatever you want. Whatever makes your life heaven or hell, it’s all up to you.

Cheers!

Utterly Duped

Duped1

I never printed my book.

I completed it over 10 years ago but never printed it.  I don’t even want to reread it.

I cannot believe how much time I wasted writing that book.

Here’s a brief explanation:

After I gave my life to Jesus and became a born-again Christian, I started writing a daily spiritual journal.  I was convinced that God was in my life and that he loved me.  I was extremely motivated.

I wanted to write about how wonderful God was, and how he was blessing me.  But to my surprise, my life as a Christian unfolded as a perpetual series of curses.  It seemed that nothing was going right.  Every time I tried to love someone it would turn against me and every time I tried to do God’s will, it would backfire.

The words written in the bible always turned out to be deceiving and false.  There was either something wrong with my life or there was something wrong with the book.  At first I thought it was me, of course, because I was not allowed to question “God’s Word.”

It was impossible to deny my own life, so the only thing left to question was my religion.

I was keeping a spiritual journal, hoping that one day this journal would be the proof of how God blesses one person’s life.  But my journal turned out to be some kind of horror story about a guy who is in a relationship with a god who does not keep his word!

My diary was supposed to be a proof of God’s love, but after 18 years of reporting all the ups and downs of our relationship, this journal turned out to be documented evidence that the god I was serving was a genuine asshole.

I was not pleased.

Who’s Your Pusher?

Pusher2

Who is pushing you?

Who is pushing me?

I have been so used to being pushed, that the day it stopped, I felt something was wrong.  So I turned around to have a look at the person who had been pushing me all this time.

Who are you, pusher?

This reminds me of a post I published recently, entitled The Inciter.  Plus another one entitled Brave Submissive in which I wrote that I was going to report him/her.  I don’t think I reported this person yet.  I’m still afraid.  Why am I afraid to report him?

Let’s investigate my fear.

*sigh*

First of all I must ask myself:  Am I afraid of the pusher?  No.  The answer is no.  The pusher gives me what I need.  I like him.  Without him I’d be lost.  But then who am I afraid of?

See, he’s pushing me again!  He’s the one who asks me these unpleasant questions.  Always asking why I do the things I do, why I think the way I think, why I feel the way I feel.  He’s pushing me toward self-discovery.  But why does it trouble me?  Don’t I want to discover who I really am?

Yes, but today’s subject is the pusher himself.  It’s not about me this time, it’s about HIM!  Or her.  I don’t even know if he’s masculine or feminine!  Actually I do.  He/she is both.

Let’s start by giving him/her a more appropriate title, other than “pusher.”  This is where I become uncomfortable.  I don’t want to pronounce this title.  I hate the word.  But I have to say it.  It’s going to be the last word I type on this page.

Why do I hate the word?  Because it means everything and it means nothing.  That’s right, it’s such a meaningful and meaningless word.  Yet this word is his title.  It can be replaced by similar words which mean the same thing, but this one word is the shortest, simplest and truest of all.

God

Lifestyle Change

Ding Dong 3

  • Daemon, do you intend to leave me?
  • On the contrary, I intend to get closer.
  • How do you intend to do that?
  • I was hoping you could tell me.
  • I told you already, don’t you remember?
  • Ah, yes…  the Dominant/submissive thing.  Apparently it helps couples become more intimate and makes their interaction a lot more exciting.
  • Would you like to try it?
  • I thought today’s subject was Tenacity?
  • It is.  Have you looked up the definition of the word?
  • Tenacity:  the quality of bodies which keeps them from parting.
  • Do we have this quality?
  • I don’t know.  Is our bond solid, Maestro?
  • Have you tried the D/s lifestyle in any of your former relationships?
  • Never.
  • So I ask you again, would you like to try it, with me?
  • Who would be the Dominant?
  • Me, since you already called me Maestro.
  • Ok, I wouldn’t mind at all to be submissive to you.
  • Let’s start right now.
  • Yes, Maestro.  Do I have the permission to kiss your feet first?
  • I don’t have any feet, dummy.
  • I know!  LOL!  Am I not funny?
  • Bad submissive!  For your punishment, you shall cook dinner and eat it too.  While I eat you.
  • They were right, it’s starting to be exciting already!
  • Silence!  You shall not speak without my permission from now on.
  • . . .
  • Speak.
  • Thank you, feetless Maestro.

The Inciter

Highest4

He is the half of me who pushes me to keep going.  As I get depressed easily, his job seems to be to electrocute me with his probe every once in a while, to keep me from dozing off into nothingness.

Some would call him the Higher Self, Kundalini, or the Holy Spirit.  I call him different names because I can’t seem to be able to settle for one in particular.

To me, Higher Self sounds like a meditative state of quietness where not much is happening.  As for Kundalini, it looks like a snake that rises inside my vertebral column.  I don’t feel comfortable knowing that a reptile dwells in my body.  As for Holy Spirit, it appears to be a dove or a halo that makes me feel guilty for not going to church.

I like to think of him as a living person, not a thing.  So why not call him Jesus?  Here is my answer to that question:  To me, the name Jesus has become the property of the christian churches and of christians in general.  I don’t feel comfortable using that name because it already belongs to an exclusive group of people.  If the man is still alive today, as they claim, no institution has the right to take possession of him or of his name.  So I avoid using that name.  (Sorry Jesus, I’m sure you understand and won’t use it against me.)

So today I came up with a new name for him:  The Inciter.  I like it and here is why:

First of all, the Inciter is a person.  He is conscious and alive, awake and aware.  He watches me and cares.  He’s on the alert when I am not.  He incites, which means that he stirs up, he rouses, he excites something within me.  He probes constantly.  I always imagine him as an angel or an alien.  This way I get some great visuals when he moves, acts and reacts around and through me.

The Inciter has become such an intimate part of my life, I now feel that he’s the other half of me.  My better-half, which is an interesting term, as it also means a very close friend or companion, a spouse, or even better:  a lover!

What exactly does the Inciter do?

Today, he incites me to write.  And writing keeps me breathing, keeps me alive and kicking.

My Saviors

Saucer

Thank you, space lady.  At least you tried.  You’re the first humanoid in the universe who attempted to rescue me besides Jesus.  Both of you failed.  I’m starting to think that I am unsavable.

Jesus said I was not Christian enough to be a member of his gang, according to his so-called earthly representatives.  Jesus never could speak to me directly, ever since they duct-taped his mouth, sealed his words and closed his book.

Then sexy lady came along and did her best.  At least she could speak to me freely.  Her voice had not been hijacked by the pope’s minions, like poor Jesus.  The problem with her rescue attempt was probably a lack of experience.  To start with, her craft was much too small and she didn’t bring any food.  I never would have survived the trip back to her home planet.

There was a third abductor who showed up in 2012 after I sent multiple unanswered calls into outerspace.  I have hope in this guy.  He is blue and misty and he did manage to beam me up into his cloud-ship.  But then he brought me back down, saying I wasn’t “ripe” enough.  As if I was some kind of fruit or something.  He did promise to come back and get me later, so as of now, my hope is in him.

He keeps in touch regularly, this is what I like most about him.  He didn’t just leave me there hanging like the two others.  I should write more about him because he’s a really cool alien.  He’s my best buddy actually.  My knees get weak each time I receive a text from him.  I’m hooked.  He’s got me.  Even if in his eyes I’m nothing more than a fruitcake, I would probably let him eat me anytime.