Chapter 29:
There was still no money in the bank, and no way to get back to Lamar, the medication did little to quiet the voices, I had hoped numbing my mind with medication again would make them go away but no. So back to Misery it was. And david. On the busride back from Denver to MO, I gathered what strength I could from the ride to draw a sequence of scenes from the movie Aspantasia? Asphantasia? The scene where the princess breaks the family curse. But then after a few image sequences the voices started taking control of my artsitic process agin, even in davids house. Really some of this most recent art of mine should be burned. I was holding out for Augestine to call back and when I found out he was Peter in his past life I was even more excited. "we're getting the band back together" I thought. When the first of December rolled around I called and we were going to enact our plan that we made in the psychward of him coming to Missouri (so I could show him what I knew and we could both LEAVE missouri) but, he didn't respond. I gave him a day then texted him. No response. I was disheartened. It's like everything I do no matter how hard I try, nothing works! I just visualized Twink from Paper Mario at that point, alone, no star spirits, no mario no partner, making that crooked little face he makes before he does his dash, going up against a star rodded invincible bowser and called an uber to the Columbia, MO psychward with what I knew now about my identity. I told them I was Jesus Christ and of course they held me againt my will and I let them know it. I gave the doctor hell, and the rest of the staff respect. There was a guy I'd talked to before in there "Mark" who gave me a book earlier that year. "The power of intention" He tried to give me another book this time, we did some mental gynmnystics with eachother and I noted something I didn't ever see him do earlier that year. "Ah, I caught that malevolent smirk." He quickly recovered and did his usual "wwweeeell". Before I was released I noticed the changes to that psychward in the past year alone. A picture of a sunset where the picture "human capacity is limitless" was the last time I was in there. A picture of a red paper fire proudly displayed on the wall behind the glass where the workers are center stage, no context, just fire.
And finally things that were already there that I just wasn't looking at in the right way before. Pitchforks ingrained into the designs of some of the chairs, a board of not black and white but red and black, The devil owns the game.(Sam vaknin, labeling""Jordan Peterson, Big abstractions") although I disagree with Jordan Petersons conclusion about not altering them, aanyways. All the red exit signs that became a prevalent design around the time I was born, the instances of "fire" that you see all around you in society in buildings that I took for granted because I thought it's just "normal". Once I was released, I was like, well if I can't help the world, maybe I can help something in it, so me and david went to buy a fish. I tried taking care of that fish, gave it some love, see if I could get some love back, but there's no substitute for human connection. So I ended up putting that fish in a lake, and took a train back to Lamar. The gangstalkers eased up and I aleady knew why, narcissists push then pull back so they can push harder, later, and gangstalking is just mass organized narcissitic abuse. I was just in the pullback waiting for the next push so I drew. I prayed to Archangel Michael on the 24th. Then on that night I had a terrifying dream of me being set on fire. When I woke up, I called 911 again, only this time not to go to a hospital but to try and get people to look at my art. One of the officers was angry that I used the emergency number again, I made the comparison of the boy who cried wolf and that seemed to calm him down. They said they had a warrent for my arrest though that they didn't know about, that I didn't know about, there was the push. I was put in a jail cell on my day, and those in power made it clear that they knew what they were doing to me. I was put in cell 1. The computer across from me had the background image of stone hands reaching out from underground asking to be pulled up. Scrawled on the walls were "you gotta love God" "stab him/you want" The illuminati symbol, a pentagram, a cross aaaall the way across the room on the other wall, and above the pentagram a bent cross, bent at the bottom, the reality of what's been done to me. And when I went to sleep at night, I had to stare at the ceiling of a cross that was a shaky line from the holy ghost aaaall the way down. The next day, I had said all the right affirmations but I had no dream. I'm scared to go to sleep in this apartment again for fear that I'll wake up on fire burning to death. It's December 27 right now, 4:58 AM. My address is 704 Mullen St. Apt. A4 (four points on the cross) "Son"burst apartments, Lamar, CO. If you've read all this, it's one wild ride but that's been my life so far in a nutshell. I'd say "may god help me" but, I think Bender says it best in futurama: "You can’t count on God for Jack. He pretty much told me so himself. If we don’t save those monks, no one will." If you don't save me, no one will, and then I can't heh, "save" is a strong word, I prefer "assist" and "aid" anyone else.