I’m trying to help my family through their grieving process. I don’t even know if they lost someone. They say they were going to a long time ago, and posted pictures, but my family shuns me, the black sheep. So, I try to reach them how I can, through my father. I know he’s not communicating with them about me. So, I get a little antsy on Facebook while creating an effect I know as a “whirlpool” on X, where I link them stuff that has very specifically interesting information with skillful goading of them with hints of more personally interesting information in other threads, and everyone ignores me. So, I do a heavy push, saying this on my brother’s senior ball picture:

…

I remember my senior ball. I was manipulated by a girl in my class to think I had a date, but she never had those intentions. She was the type of girl that grows up to be a woman that stalks dating websites for idiot boys pretending to be men, flashing their money about.

Well, y’know, I certainly didn’t get anything meaningful to rise in my life from my grandparents either, but then again, I lost my entire family at age thirteen because the narcissist who would come to live vicariously through me for my writing couldn’t compete with how shitty they were, so he set off on his own bullshit, which he “perfected” in a years time to land the mother of his child, as he applied a fundamentally different approach to dating than he met that woman as young as his one child is now two months after his 39-yo walking disease of a wife passed.

I don’t know who she was, really. She taught me to love though, so while the 85er machinations of my father were going on at the same time I was reading the third book from the Hitchhiker’s Guide series (heh [I sent him these books for his birthday]), I was developing an understanding of higher truths of reality that even now, I look back at the time that I defined my “self” as being a broken mirror with shards in an erratic orbit around my soul, with four distinct parts:

The wounded child (Greg)

The learning scholar (Elwood)

The waiting, vengeful god (Valmar; ask my dad about the “wolf’s head” I would draw in the mirror)

The bound and chained (what I thought was the psycho I could release of I ever needed to kill someone, but really was my repressed gay, effeminate side)

Of course, my MySpace URL proves that. But what does [Redacted] think about? I know I never told anyone in my house what I was genuinely feeling, and y’know, I didn’t know my book Of Vic and Vince, and how the best laid plans of Vic and Vince oft go awry, was a direct reference to Of Mice and Men until like a week ago, cuz iceberg consciousness.

But, obviously, we’re equals in how we can perceive n undo the karmic fetters that bind us to the existence-illusion complex to understand what is meant by “God is a unified field of consciousness that arose from the supersymmetry of the ever-present, eternal emptiness to then fold in and on Itself across eleven dimensions to form a topological matrix that acts as a monadic nodal communication system,” obviously.

Looking forward to death, cuz then I Know what I’m getting. And I do Know what is meant by “consciousness is the base substance of reality.”

Holodeck, y’know? Rick and Morty has “Roy.”

https://youtu.be/szzVlQ653as

[Snip; was heartfelt close with personal information]

…

So, you see how serious I am about making contact with my family? I KNOW I can help them! I’m a shaman. My mom died at age nine and then I was horribly abused by a man that genuinely did heal and grow before starting his second family, but still helped hurt his second son, that I also hurt being an out of control rageaholic drug addict that fell apart in college because I did not have ANY parental guidance.

And that soured my whole life, y’know? But I don’t say that in a mean tone. I have no closure. My father doesn’t speak to me. He posts about the weather six times a week (he takes the sabbath off from his excruciating social media obligation). He never has real money. I mean, he has more than me, but I can’t work because I headbutt holes in my own fucking wall because my life partner lied to me about having HIV and a warrant to control me (he has neither), but y’know, I understand death isn’t the end.

I KNOW this! I understand what is causing the shadows on the cave wall. It makes complete logical sense, the nature of how axiom and category are born from the orthogonal relativity of our topological matrix. And I can explain that, perhaps not to a five year old, but definitely to my newly adult brother.

I don’t know if the first thing I would say to him would alleviate anything, just as I don’t know if the letters I wrote to him hearing only parts of his mental health troubles did help, but no one talks to me. I don’t know why. Yea, I can get mouthy. WHAT FATHER OF A CHILD CANNOT SPEAK WISDOM TO THEIR OWN BLOOD WHEN APPROACHED WITH THE VERBAL CAPACITY AS IN THESE PARAGRAPHS? Perhaps I have been uncouth in the past about HOW I have approached them. But they don’t even reply, so I learn nothing.

Did they even read my words, or go on to listen to the man who was SIGNIFICANTLY more of a monster twenty years ago, before he met his second family and wised up when his older son called the cops on his bullshit violent, narcissistic behavior? I DON’T KNOW! What I do know, was that before I left, he made his mother of his child cry on a weekly basis before storming off in the morning for work where he would come home to brag about how he told his incompetent subordinates off.

And my life may be permenantly ruined because I judged his wrath more of a threat than the United States military and lied to them in a clearly false (and hilarious) manner that made them start using me for counterintelligence purposes (they fuck with me and I report on it BeCaUsE i’M sChIzOpHrEnIc WiTh 147Iq!). But I’m not a victim.

I don’t blame my father for anything. He us ABSOLUTELY the CAUSE of much of my suffering, but I forgive him totally. Still, I love him, so I worry what he’s going to do when he gets to Heaven and remeets both my mother AND the 18yo he jumped on two months after she died.