Image 2-2-18 at 10.44 AMThis blog is a battle with the cancer in me.

Who are you? Why are you seeking me?

What can you do for me? What have you done for me? What makes you think I need you? You assumed incorrectly, and you were not nice to me. Niceness goes a long way.

And you, what makes you different from all the others? You sit above me, in your higher positions, and you disparage those….others, the by-their-own-words-known dammed? But to me….how are you truly different? I see not much difference, in fact, none. How are you better? Is it even possible you are perhaps worse a cancer to me? And if they claim they are dammed, you must be too, as essentially your the same. Oh you cancerous cells in my body, can you hear me? It is to you whom I  speak, you cancer cells inside my body.  Why do you rebel and turn cold your love?

Why am I so low? So betrayed by what lives within me? I am the lowest of the low, and yet I am the Queen.

You rebels claim this is an Ego trip, but I do not care. I am what I am, a being with a right to live. This is a battle with cancer, an evil thing within me that thinks it can consume the world. My ego is valuable in this fight. You can be part of what gives me life or part of the cancer that despises being subjects. Your choice. And after all, should not my very own cells love me? Does that seem incongruous that I should think they ought to? Do you love your parents, your kids, your granny? Does my very life that supports you not inspire love? If you do not love me more than anything and anybody then you are not worthy to live within me.

I am going to awaken from this bad dream, and…

They say I’m a CORPSE. Then that means only one thing if you are reading this, or if you see me walk among you. It means I am a Queen that has conquered death. And yet The battle continues? Continual war with cells that think they can exist without me?

I am the one who defeated death…And you know this.

My mind can relive that moment. I crawled off the cold table, and I said, No, that is not going to happen. He murdered me. Not my hand, but half of me, of us, that DNA. The other was a dream. I am innocent, yet under attack. The Big C. They are everywhere these parasites. I am not the parent of cancer cells, of parasites. No, they are not my children.

You see my scars, and yet you are still rebellious? Idolatrous? Woe to you. I would not wish that upon you, you do this yourselves.

The Queen. One plus one equals two. Of course, you might call me dead, but what is that? For me, I am not dead, but asleep in a dream, locked into a dream matrix, and not dead in any sense, because I was never born.

My real body, you can never see, for you are within it. You are a cell within me. And whatever I am, you are, and we only know life.

And it also means, well…anyway, you know only the dead see the dead, so what are you? Is this death?

If you are here looking for average feel-good-it’ll-be-alright, stand up and shout, typical/hypocritical religious stuff, you’re in the wrong place, just like me. Those are words of men who want to control you, enslave you. Keep you down in this Hell. You will just get upset by my views. And how is that independent self-worshipping life all working out for you?

No, I am not like you, not at all. If that hypocritical blarmy is the stuff you like…You will not like me it all, but I am very used to it. And you….U, you know exactly whom I speak to..all you have ever done is cause me harm each moment you had a chance, and I never knew it most of the time.

You are a stranger to me.

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