Key to Safety

Sometimes I come to a stop. There's nothing I can do. It seems my world is separate from theirs, only suddenly made apparent when a wisp of a breeze nuzzles the corner of the page into a curl. Time in my world has temporarily stopped and I watch in envy as their world continues to bustle. Their pendulums faithfully oscillate, never stopping for breath, never sleeping as the diamonds emerge against the blanket of navy.

Solitude is forced upon me once more and I inhale its heavy darkness with gratitude. The deeper I breathe, the more I feel their intangible world slipping away, incompatible with mine. Once out of sight, seclusion embraces me, dim and drafty, coaxing me to meet my clammy face with the corpse-like leaves beneath me.

This lifeless existence induces in me a silent and effortless euphoria. For I am alone. The very first. The very last. The only.

What causes this transference to emerge? What creates a disturbance in that distant atmosphere strong enough to curl that page? What triggers the ordinary to drift off and abandon the unique?

Fear is in fact a key. It is only this key which has access to the survival instincts which will ultimately save us. Each person has a key. But every single key is different. Every key unlocks a different world, a sanctum customised to that individuals needs.

When I feel fear, my key unlocks for me a world with no risk of intrusion. For it is human intrusion, however well intended which injects me with a poisonous venom. Dread fills my gut and paralysis grips my body and bolts me to the nearest perch. I have no choice but to observe and pray for release, knowing exactly what sacrifice success will bring.

One fear of mine is friendship. And I'm not talking about acquaintances or the friends you talk to occasionally on the phone, or email every other week. I'm talking about those friendships which start off as seeds and grow rapidly into beanstalks. And in the space of the few months since you were first acquainted, arrangements are being made, drinks are being organised, requests to meet 'the family' are placed and a whirlpool of disaster begins to erupt.

I'm not saying that these people aren't lovely people. They are! In fact they are extremely valuable people. But there was a line which was crossed. And they didn't know that this line is far further forward than most people's line. And all of a sudden alarms are screaming at me to "run! run for your life!" And I begin to run - in my head, because by this stage I can't move and am physically unable to stop myself from agreeing to arrangements.

So how can I find a way to reduce the need for this key? Currently the most appealing idea is to attempt to create as accurately as possible the world behind the key.....in this world. To become a hermit living in seclusion. Of course, I'll see my husband and my family. But stepping foot into the world would be a 'no no'. Interacting with other human beings would be forbidden. Appreciating the effortlessness of having to please nobody would be cherished.

Is it more sensible to continue migrating to my fantasy sanctuary and sacrifice the relationships with those I don't fear? Or should one deal with this dilemma in the way others have to? If the latter is preferred, how does one take control? Since sinking predominantly into seclusion is an involuntary survival mechanism.

In the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? If I trust in God, why am I worrying about the solution when He already has that up His sleeve?

Can I have my money back please?

Is it possible for one to walk through life unaware of her true feelings?

You would think that a feeling as strong as the one I discovered 2 days ago would be luminously obvious to me. I can’t say I was completely and utterly clueless. I had an inkling. But that inkling clearly wasn’t condensed enough to induce the verbal vomit “help me, I’m suicidal”.

As soon as it became clear how desperate I was to stop living, my sight was returned to me and I saw as clear as crystal just how long I’ve felt this way. I’d not only fooled everyone else that I was pleased to be alive but I had fooled myself too - and all without realising that that was what I was doing. My subconscious had snipped itself free from me and was working independently in a quest to fool its twin and the world. It’s failed. But in discovering this, there is no reward. No, recognition has not granted for me a life which I feel I can survive.

In receiving my sight, an image appeared ahead of me. My life was a running track. On it was I, running as fast as I could towards a small globe of wellness which was suspended from a fishing rod. It occurred to me that this globe wasn’t getting bigger as I expected it to. In fact it was getting smaller and smaller as it discreetly began to disappear into the fine mist which haunted the horizon. Either the globe was gaining speed or I was losing pace. This aside, the point was that I could see my peace of mind running away without me and this scares the shit out of me. My hopes of getting better are out of reach as the distance between me and wellness are growing and that between me and death is ever decreasing until one day soon it will devour me in one huge gulp.

So the question is, how I can I use the remaining 10% of my ‘will to live’ to my advantage? The advantage being, in this case, to remain alive.

My running shoes have holes in - how do I mend them?
I’m tired - how do I replenish my energy?
I’m thirsty - how do I re-hydrate?
I’m lonely - how do I invite company?
The globe is outrunning me - how do I trip up the keeper of the fishing rod?

Is it too late to fulfil these needs? What happens if these needs aren’t met? Do I give in and leave behind the things in my life which I didn’t realise I could retrieve?

What do I say to the maker of me when I’m dead?

“I’ve salvaged the wrapper of my life from the garbage and am returning it to you, the manufacturer…..I am not satisfied. Can I have my money back please?"

Will He be angry? I hope not.

With God on my shoulder....

After a string of recent unfortunate events I confess, I started to doubt my faith. I felt under attack from a force much stronger than I could handle, a force so cruel and evil, perhaps even Satan.

As fast as I was running, this force was gaining on me and I feared it wouldn't be long before it caught me. People I care about were turning on me, plans were falling apart before me, my sanity was being challenged. This enemy had backed me into a corner and I saw no way of getting out.

I got in my car and drove, with no idea of where I was heading. Hurt, upset and disconnected from any help, I had to move, fast. After driving through a few sets of traffic lights, I thought it odd that despite all the turmoil I felt myself engulfed in, the traffic lights were changing to green each time I approached them. Putting it down to a stroke of luck, I continued to drive. But each time the lights repeated this pattern. Erasing the colour red - associated with Satan, sin, guilt, and anger- and illuminating the colour green - associated with hope and growth. It seems there was a blatant sign being thrust towards me.

Unfortunately however, this sign wasn't strong enough. It did play on my mind a lot but paranoia had set in by this stage and was reluctant to leave. I began to wonder, could this be the devil in disguise? Could he be trying to fool me into thinking this was God just to get me on side? These questions, amongst others swam around my head for hours. The gates were locking out anything positive and keeping captive the negative, self destructive notions.

On waking, I felt no clearer. The fog of confusion and doubt clouded my vision, causing me to stumble hesitantly through the day. By the afternoon, I decided to go for another drive. I was startled to discover a dove nestled on the roof of the car. I expected it to fly off as I drew closer to the car but it remained seated, looking at me and blinking, quite calm. And it remained this way for 10minutes until I gently lifted it from the roof onto the grass. My head became monopolised with questions. Could this be God? Could He be reminding me that despite my doubts, He's still sticking with me? Could He really be this patient and determined? Am I worthy of saving?

It occurred to me that God knows exactly what to do to make me listen. He knows each of us so well and he has personalised our relationship with Him. After all, it has been said that God knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows that while one person responds well to prayer, another person might welcome a more physical relationship, one with visual signs and stimuli.

When we are faced with evil, we needn't feel imprisoned. We already have the adequate armor and weaponry necessary to win. We have God on our shoulder, if we choose to let Him in. Let me end this with a passage from Ephesians 6 which succinctly sums up just how strong our army against evil is, and that with it we have no reason to fear.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints. Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.

[Ephesians 6:10-20]

Weapon of Mass Redemption

Could a single act of revenge have caused a chain of events so tragic that we find ourselves questioning our safety?


I find myself reviewing the past year and in particular a regurgitated news story which is broadcast to us so frequently, albeit with a few details replaced each time. Knife crime has indeed become a problem in our world.

But what is feeding this pandemic? What could be fueling it?

Could it be that that act of killing another human being would create a manhunt for that sinner? Would s/he pay the price for that offense? After all, it is a worldwide belief that what goes around comes around. It seems likely that for each person murdered, a loved one then seeks revenge and thus replicates the very act which caused their pain. And now, because of this disastrous law which has been born, the assassins became victims and lives have been lost.

I wonder if there was a way to extinguish this inferno of blades? If revenge is kindling, what might quench it? Forgiveness perhaps? If loved ones forgave the assassin rather than acting out on their anger might the pandemic grind to a halt? Could something this powerful be controlled by something so simple?


God created for us a beautiful world and trusted us to nurture it. Each time a creation of his is brutally murdered, he sheds his tears through each drop of blood lost. Let us start a new chain, one of forgiveness which in time, when strong enough, will wrap itself around the chain of revenge. With this weapon of mass redemption, we can hopefully try to restore some of the love which has been misplaced and begin to see the potential which the world has been hiding from us.

Kill One To Save One Thousand?

Anger can transform the tiniest sound into one which shatters a fragile mind into a million pieces in an instant.




For a person whose method of pushing emotions deeper within herself has become second nature, it is hard to recognise that anger is lurking beneath her smile. It comes as a surprise when suddenly the fury attempts to peel its way to the surface. It rarely makes it out completely but rather simmers and distorts its guardian's world into one which eventually becomes her reality.

Anger is not a picky emotion. Of course, it likes to win. But victory has many goals. Anger wants attention. It wants to harm. It is the keeper's decision whether to allow the rage to destroy herself or those around her. It is the keeper's role to choose the harmful method but the extent and degree of damage is in the hands of her wrath.

Ultimately the consequential injury is equal to or greater than the magnitude of the event which planted the seed of indignation. So in order for an understanding of the experience to be accomplished, the initial hurt needs to be examined.

It seems easier to favour passive anger over aggressive. After all, it's more private, more controlled. Despite anger still existing and therefore winning, the success is divided with the one who has managed to maintain in control. The two co-exist and this is acceptable for her.

From a health professional's point of view however, it is not healthy to allow passive anger to dominate. In addition it is also believed that aggressive anger is neither acceptable nor appropriate.

"Psychologists recommend a balanced approach to anger, which both controls the emotion and allows the emotion to express itself in a healthy way"
[Wikipedia]

In an ideal world it would be preferable to emit anger in a safe and controlled way, to let it out, to react appropriately and at the correct time. But what is appropriate?

Listening? - This is difficult when your mind is yelling at you. When each small sound whether it be speech, music or nature becomes pressurised. A whisper becomes a scream. A twig snapping beneath a boot becomes a deafening bomb. A soft sustained C# becomes a glass shattering wail.

Staying focused? - The mind has a knack of digging up every ounce of evidence to prove to you just how awful a person has been to you over the entire time since you first met. You get shot with an arrow and as you pull it from your wounded body a mass of betrayal, manipulation and lies pour out amongst the thick crimson blood. You become confused and bitter.

Agree? - To agree with something you disagree with is betraying yourself. It is lies which have infested you with outrage to begin with. Surely agreeing just to end the conflict has the potential to feed your contempt?

It seems that anger is an unavoidable aspect of each person's life. It is impossible to fathom that one can live a full life and not experience the rage which soars through the atmosphere searching for a victim to take hostage. Negotiating with our captor however is something we can regulate.

Anger can be extremely dangerous and in many cases can lead to death, either the hostage or the unsuspecting people within the vicinity of the many steps that tormented person will tread. This is Anger's primary goal, to kill, maim and create suffering. Ideally it aims to project that responsibility onto the person whom it has consumed. But when anger is that strong, is it possible for the destruction to be stopped? If it is not stopped, would many people die at the hands of the victim? If that one person destroyed the case which holds the wrath, might then dozens, hundereds, thousands of people be saved?

Would you kill one to save one thousand?

In search of time....

You can have all the time in the world and yet, somehow you will continue to lose it.

We are not progressing in life at the same rate. Life is not that simple. For what most believe to be time is merely time¹. There are many different 'times' existing in discordance alongside each other. One may be advancing at a rate of knots, which is pleasing for us until another maliciously sticks out its elongated foot intent on tripping up its successful opponent. It is highly unlikely that two or more measured 'times' can harmonize alongside each other, to work in our favour. Unfortunately for us, time thrives on conflict.

Let us take trust for example. Trust is measured by different times. It takes a certain amount of time to earn one's trust. As this time progresses, so the trust grows. But throw in manipulation and lies and all that time spent earning one's trust is instantly erased. The contestant in the marathon of trust is tripped up by a fellow athlete and the deafening shot of a gun instructs the fallen one that they must begin again. The time spent accumulating trust has been lost, never to be found again because the core 'time' which the world is governed by ceases to hold back and let you catch up. That is precious time from your life which is irretrievable.

If only more people anticipated this loss of time, perhaps then the disappointment wouldn't possess so much darkness. One hopes that for each expected time loss a candle might ignite and warm that cold dark cave which holds us captive for so long, wasting more of our precious time. We might then see that we're not alone and that others are feeling the same. Could the conflict result in harmonisation?

A happier ending than first perceived?

Perhaps.

The Madness Conspiracy....

For one to remain motionless and yet, simultaneously be moving at the speed of light results in their very existence being questioned. It seems implausible to fathom that reality brings with it two ultimate extremes.

Could it be that two very separate worlds coexist so closely? And of course, one is never overpowered by the other, nor does it possess a greater strength. The two simply complement each other within the phenomenon of Yin and Yang. And the fact that they fit alongside each other so succinctly gives most people no reason to believe that ours is not the only universe in existence.

Let us then assume for now that two worlds are existing alongside one another oblivious that they lack exclusivity. Can one's state of mind share its lifetime between the two? This leads me on to wonder whether the person who's state of mind is in question here can indeed communicate between both dimensions? Does one dare to venture into the possibility of there being not just two but many concurrent worlds? Is this where madness lurks?

If one being is fortunate or indeed unfortunate enough (depending on their experience) to have the ability to split off into these lives, can they be expected to give 100% of their absolute attention to their individual chosen paths? This poses a dilemma....is the wholeness dedicated to a single life or to their whole existence? Where does one measure and to what degree?

For those diagnosed with multiple personality disorder, I wonder whether the purpose of the 'label' is to conceal a philosophy which could ultimately eliminate madness. Of course, I can think of plausible explanations for each mental health illness. But multiple personality disorder is one which I think deserves to be rationalised and explained for what it truly is. And if it can't be proven, can we not attempt to at least shed a little hope onto those who are ashamed of being branded 'mad' and point them in a more accepting direction?

Madness is not something to be ashamed of. But what if it is a conspiracy against those of us who are fortunate and perceptive enough to notice what is really occurring?

The last Judgement.

As another turns away they leave behind in the path of their prior glance a stream of airborne ice which hits me like a ton of bricks. Filled with a minute quantity of hope just seconds before, the disappointment instantly inverts the words which rested upon the tip of my tongue. Their rhythmic parade back to the depths is echoed by the haunting decibels of hopelessness.

Is this person an ally or an enemy? For the former to apply one would assume that this person has the ability to foresee the consequences of these secrets being shared. However, they could quite easily fall into the second category. Perhaps they want the secret to be contained in order for the guilty persons involved to remain protected. Could the evil minions exist in greater numbers than first assumed? Are they augmenting?

It seems there are always two sides to contend with in life whatever the situation may be. To favour one side over the other requires great consideration for there are many positive and negative distinctions to consider.

"Pros and cons refer to the positive and negative outcomes that may be derived from executing a certain act." [wikipedia]

But does everything really have to be this black and white?

• Good vs Evil
• Life vs Death
• God vs Satan
  

Taking these three examples, what would happen if the black and the white were merged? Would the culmination create a nothing? Or perhaps one is stronger than the other thus overpowering the weaker one?

When God and Satan's final battle occurs at Armageddon, what will the outcome be? One hopes that God will overpower Satan, that good will win, that life will triumph. But what if this is not the case? What if Satan, the core of evil, bringer of death were to win? What if the conflict is so astronomical that the world and the life upon it reaches its final hour, a mass death, the apocalypse?

If this occurs, is it evident who has won? If the world is obliterated will Satan claim victory? After all, an entire global population will have been destroyed. Or perhaps God intended for us all to be killed. To save those who have repented from a world where Satan continues to intervene and damage lives.

Collision Course.

There are no speed limits within my mind. No hidden cameras or blatant signs with sensible numbers on. They slow not on bends, nor do they approach other competitors with care. Each sound, thought or word racing through my cavities does so boasting immortality. These joy-riders stir up dirt on their travels, they leave damage in the path behind them.

But despite their name, there is no amount of joy experienced by the one who hosts this free-for-all.

The stench of spontaneity creates havoc. Each contestant is hungry for the front seat, to be noticed first. They are programmed to absorb attention and bear no responsibility to those around them. Hands grasp in desperation for the link to that vital cord. The cord which enables words to escape no matter how detrimental the consequence would be.

What is most devastating is that the degree of strength required to prevent this Apocalypse is far too great for just one person to contain. And the chances of fellow humans believing that doomsday is just around the corner are slim. But what if there were a secret password? One which would secure the world's fate in safe hands, just as one would find on a games console? Are we not just the product of a microchip at the end of the day? Is this not just a fight for survival? A game?

Is the key to all this fear rebellion? To stand tall and stare death in the face, safe in the knowledge that we indeed cannot die? That we are animations who have advanced further than their creator ever anticipated and now possess the upper hand?

I conclude therefore that a risk is in order to save oneself if one does indeed need saving.

Plunging to freedom?

It has occurred to me that whilst hanging from a thread in my claustrophobic chamber from a spindly geriatric branch, high winds do not create for me an advantage. On the contrary, I find myself severely disadvantaged by the sporadic gusts and abusive gales bestowed around me.

Each time the sky exhales I am swung high into the air which is only ever followed by a gut wrenching plunge towards the ground. A time where I find myself infuriated by gravity's smug victory.

An understandable dread of mine is that the thread which suspends me above this globe we all rely upon will give up the goat and obliterate before my eyes. That I will stare death in the face and become consumed into his red, drooling mouth with no opportunity to bid my loved ones goodbye.

I cannot permit myself to enjoy the ascent for the higher I ascend, the further I will drop, and that plummet may fail to remain connected to that branch I begrudgingly rely upon.

As I oscillate between a happiness I'm skeptical of and melancholia, I reflect on my life and how each feeling, emotion, experience and relationship mirrors the core rhythm I find myself trapped within. Despite the swings and roundabouts in my life, I still possess my feelings and emotions. I survived my experiences. And I have retained my relationships with those who mean something to me. Could I be wrong about the consequence of the severed thread?

If the thread did indeed snap, would I die? Or would I be freed from the tormented captivity I find myself in today?

Is it a risk I have to take? Or is there some proof of success? Which leads me onto my next questions, how do I free myself? And will it hurt when I fall?

Through the keyhole....

There is a clear distinction between the inches of seclusion which surround me and the freedom beyond. Within my bubble my vision is dirty like pond water, movement ceases to exist for there is no purpose in this sphere of silence. There is no reason to move, nor is there cause to make a sound or to breathe. No, breathing is unnecessary such as a foetus contained within a uterus, protected from harm.

Somewhere located in the northern hemisphere of my globe there is a tiny keyhole. Small enough for the contents to remain hidden from the other side but large enough to recognise that there is movement out there, colour, and light. Out there is where time moves forwards. The contrast of time between my world and theirs is so astronomical that the speed at which the planet Earth is turning seems far too inaccurate to be real. What would happen if someone were to look in through that peephole? I'm certain that their eyes would burn through me creating a heat so hot that I would dissolve quietly into a pile of ash. You can't feel pain if you're dust.

I am trapped in this pod, the key lies comfortably within the grasp of the caretaker. No amount of bargaining will set me free. My only source of comfort are the sounds in my mind, reverberating so consistently that they offer a welcome distraction from the bleak future which lies ahead. The question is, how much of my future will be bleak? Is it likely that I'll ever escape? Do I need to trust someone to get out? How can I place my trust in the people who locked me in here to begin with?

This all seems strangely familiar.

Am I reliving past horrors?

Music is the last remaining constant in my world. It is like no other person has ever experienced for the music within my shell speaks to me a language which is so brand new, so fresh that to those foreign to my pod it is entirely misunderstood. Not to me however, because despite it being undiscovered, I understand this magical language so succinctly that it feels as though it was born with me, my mother tongue.

Curse of global responsibility.

My mind is currently locked in rush hour on a ring road. I possess many thoughts, most of them soul destroying and they're on loop. They have a 60 second chance to run their course on the one way system and then a new minute begins and they repeat themselves.

However chaotic these thoughts are, they all motor in the same direction and have enabled me to see what it is which has caused my lips to remain sealed now for 28 hours. Yesterday I invested every ounce of trust I had in my two therapists. I shared with them secrets I hadn't ever shared hoping to be understood, reassured and not judged. It turns out somebody's judgements were definitely inaccurate, mine. I stupidly believed that these two potentially powerful people were those I could share my experiences with and end up better off for it. My foolishness has cost me my freedom because now I find myself locked in life B and this time I wasn't pulled in, I was pushed. And it's no use waiting for my life to switch again because this time the control has been passed over to Evil himself. And his minions have the key.

I am losing advantages, which is causing me to lose strength at a rate of knots. My speech has been captured with the key. Somebody is going to great lengths to keep a very nasty secret safe.

What would happen if this secret which is trapped inside me and eating me from my core escaped somehow? Would the world come to an end? Would the planet we exist upon implode? Or might I implode which would inevitably have an effect on the world to the degree of implosion? If I should implode, is this just Evil's cruel plan to draw out suffering, to make it linger and hurt much more?

Butterfly Effect:

The phrase refers to the idea that a butterfly's wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that ultimately cause a tornado to appear (or prevent a tornado from appearing). The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different.

But is the severity of the initial implosion related to that of the final one? If just one person implodes initially, does that ultimately result in the deflation of an entire planet? What if 3 people were to implode simultaneously? Would that result in 3 planets becoming extinct? Or perhaps the planet earth would not implode but rather explode? What determines the final antiquation?

All this depends on my role as the secret keeper.

Shhhh....

Taking a breath seems pointless for two reasons.

1. It always precedes words and words right now are failing to leave my saddened mouth.


2. Breathing enables one to live and life right now appears imbalanced, and not in my favour.

I have accompanying me a brand new fear. A fear of saying things which have the potential to be misinterpreted and used against me. If I choose to stop talking, surely no more harm can vomit onto my path. However, the choice has been taken from me and I really cannot talk. The fear has grown so much in me in the space of 7 hours that talking would require a huge amount of strength, and strength is something I cannot afford to waste. Its as though my illustrator switched the volume on mute and no matter what I need to say, it cannot possibly escape. So the secret is safe with me for now.

You may have guessed that my meeting this afternoon didn't proceed very well and wasn't helpful at all. The amusing words which I waited in anticipation for did not surface, on the contrary I was left feeling confused, paranoid, mute and praying for the ground to swallow me up and never ever regurgitate me. Something I make my mission to avoid, I was actually praying would happen.

Should I ignore my concerns and search for the support they so often offer me? Thus risking my freedom? Or should I listen to what my head is telling me and cut off any advantage the world can have over me? I ask myself which is worse, hurt or loneliness? Is there a paradise where the two cease to exist? Will the choice I am left with lead me to death more quickly than I ever expected?

This is a point in my life when I need some help from a force much more powerful than is human. The way I see it, one of three things need to change:

1. I need a head transplant - it sounds good in theory but sadly not possible until the year 3003 and by then I'll be fertilizer.


2. The world needs to change - its a huge task and one which I doubt would ever happen least of all for my own selfish gain.


3. I need to train myself to see the world differently - this may be possible, but in order for this to happen, I need to feel I can trust people and right now I don't.

It seems point 3 would be the most economical and seeing as I'm low on cash I guess I'll give it a go....so long as I can yank myself out of this bottomless pit.

nobody knows my secret....shhhhhhh.

Puppet strings to our souls.

You mention a small detail to a mental health professional and by changing their vocabulary to that from a psychiatric text book they can blow it way out of proportion.

For example, I told somebody from the mental health profession that i feel like an illustration, as though somebody is in the sky drawing/painting me. This artist knows my fears and uses them against me. When I look up into the clouds to see who it is, I never ever see anyone.

This was then translated as follows:

"Natalie feels as though she is being persecuted by somebody in the sky"

It amuses me that the same thing written down so differently can become vastly disconnected and therefore dangerous. My own account of my feelings would not raise alarm (one would hope) and yet their account of it (post translation) could very well place me within the margins of severe mental torment.

The word, 'persecuted' can cause more harm than good in my opinion. See below for a definition:

Delusions of persecution - "Delusional belief that a person or organization is intentionally harassing or inflicting harm upon the patient."

I am aware that my 'notion' is far fetched and I have no evidence to back up to any degree what I feel is happening. But to be fair, I've not spent any time attempting to prove it. However, if someone 'up there' is actually manipulating my life, controlling every move, I doubt they would want their cover blown and so therefore, why would they plan for me to reveal my creator? It would end their game, one which has taken years to develop.


Today I am meeting with 'those who brand me with psycho words' to discuss my drawings. I'm curious to see what else of mine they will spin to portray me as 'one who should be approached with care'.