Journal Excerpt (The worst that could happen is nobody believes. The truth requires only its self.): It’s another horrible night. I involved myself with things most people can only see in movies. People can’t fathom my world. There are too many other things to believe in, too many things that are better, more to one’s liking. But my real world remains only for a few who can bear its existence. In the fake world, there are likenesses. People believe in psychics. They believe in ghosts. They believe in death. They believe in miracles. In my world, there are psychics. There is death, but there are more than just miracles. There are more than just ghosts. A man can levitate a book in the fake world. A man can will a tornado in mine. There are boundaries in the fake world. People speak of no limit, but they are bound to their perceived grasps. A man ponders infinity in the fake world and he develops telekinesis. A man ponders infinity in my world, and the stars move with him. Where is the line between our worlds? I wish I knew. All demons share a characteristic. I can see through them all. No one believes me. They look through their world. They see only their limitations. Unconscious ones,,, They think they can believe it all. How can they? They aren’t even psychic. How can you think you believe it all when you aren’t even a part of the little things? Like the psychics who think they have developed something. They are mere infants in the world I grew up in. I sound like a brag and a half. A good topic to involve myself in conversation. I never brag. But my world, my lack of limitation brags for me. I exist as something that is too much for the normal person. As if I am lying by nature. I contradict, I super cede. Do I? I am not possible in the fake world. But they’ll all say that everything is possible. Who am I then? Or what? Psychics waste their time involving me in their inadequate equations of truth. They limit me to their consciousness. I am sorry more than they are that I haven’t the clue as how to describe the link between our worlds. Master magicians seek to exploit their inadequacy. Fame allows others to think that possibility has been reached. Oh what a burden on me to try and show them the reality. They have seen more than they thought possible. All cause some damn magician decided to act before he reached the line between us. He is a master of the fake world and its reaches. And so are his witnesses for they are consumed by his possibilities into a world with limits, fathomable limits, for my world is not fathomable. I am certain that his followers will be hard to convince. They are wowed to think they are behind in nothing. Should one step up and try and achieve nothing, it would be a miracle even to me. So they are led not in the ways of truth, but preyed upon. They are victims, held down by the chains cast by those (magicians) setting limits. Fake miracles. False prophets as I have come to know them. I am not scared. But I play well the fear of my reality, for that is what truly scares me. Unfathomable. Beyond limits is where my world begins. So all you psychics who are bound to the limit, you have only one possibility, not all. God was reached in the fathomless. Only he shares this reality. And those like him. For he is within the real boundaries. Possibility is a limited word these days. Because people think others have already crossed over the threshold. They can’t even fathom. I can’t even explain. So I’m sorry. God likes me in his own way. Oh but the biggest curse upon me… they believe in god too! Their limited god is my enemy. So they will see it this way. Psychics and priests of all sorts will have this to say of me. I am the enemy. I am not fathomable. Magicians will run away. Continue in their misleading ways; wowing others with nothing more than a possibility in the fake; so that those people will be ever less on their way. I am burdened to try and lead anyone my way. I can’t even say. They have all been led astray. I speak and they see only up until the fake. Otherwise they’d see how easy the little possibilities are to reach. Things they think are so far away aren’t even close to the line that separates us. As if I would wow someone with anything they’d believe to be a wow. I’m too far away. Their wows are only childish plays. Heat through the hands, a thought read, an animal understood, a distance seen. Child’s play! We were all made this way, there’s nothing special in this nature. But the fathomless: If simple human nature is wowing people, then what of my way? God forgive me. God has also forbid me to play. No wows for me to do or say. For it will only prevent them from overcoming the fake. Wows only send people back the other way where they think they exist. People feel left behind by magicians’ acts and priests and their sects, and psychics and their best; if they only knew the true nature of possibility. They can’t while the fake pushes to believe that possibilities are reached. God have mercy on them. Have mercy on me for not knowing what to do. I am not a fake. But my possibilities are fathomless. You have made me this way. They can’t fathom me. They expect to see their possibilities and I am not those things. Why must the magicians get their way? How long before I can reach their ears? How long before people can fathom me? My own friends see me through the fake cause my childish possibilities have escaped around them. They now think I’m as possible as a magician. To think… to think. Why not the fathomless in their wake? How can I communicate? They have limits thought grand that aren’t more than a quake. What a mistake? God you are fathomless. I am fathomless. I believe in the fathomless. The psychics are trying to visualize this through their idea of possibility, as if… A woman psychic laughs when I instill on her a fathomless act of mine, a connection to the stars in a more than just thought about way. (Stars)Thought about and read are the fake possibilities; a fortune tellers way. (Stars) Controlled and fed are my fathomless ways, fed by my will, controlled by my efforts. To think I am joked about as a fathomless believer; beyond the normal range of all possibilities. As if I weren’t possible. They are limited, these psychics. They say I wish. I don’t wish. I am burdened because I can’t explain how to be where I am. I am where they can’t fathom. I can call a tornado. I am the guy I mentioned. I am one with lightning and the stars. I am a single entity near and far. Not just a gazer. I am one. And I am so used to it that it is not just for fun like the childish possibilities. The childish is something I can’t even try and be a part of. My whole life I was existing where others cannot fathom. God yelled fly, and I stood a ground. God yelled speak, and I didn’t make a sound. Telekinesis; and I couldn’t harness the sound of my wake. It was too far and abroad. As if the stars at my will were not already me being in my natural state. Even now they don’t believe. God you never lied to me. But they can’t hear you. You speak from where they cannot fathom. Why have you done this to me? I only so believed and the moon traveled in my direction. I believed and a tornado formed in front of me, no question. I believed, and a storm surged with my aggression. I believed, and the sun moved in my confession. It grew hotter with my learning a lesson. It hid away with my regression. As if I lied today. God you are testing me. A spirit now believes I am lying. I am not lying. This spirit must not be of the fathomless; nor the psychics who report me to the fake. I can concentrate and clouds will dissipate. Why god was this my fate? People expect this to be gloat. As if I wanted it this way. I would have been happy in the fake. With nothing more than a possibility that wowed me. But I am fathomless in what I can contemplate. There are those now who think I am lying. My wife was amongst those who cannot fathom. So what is the purpose of my fate? I am not lying. But there is a smile, a liar sitting by me. As if… I began in the word of demons. They are real. They are real in my fathomless state, so imagine the true nature of a sinner’s fate. Imagine the true nature of heaven. Psychics have denied the devil. To think, he was one of yours, God. Fathomless by nature. And they and their fake trying to think because they couldn’t fathom him, he wasn’t real. Only in their views of possibility can such be true. God forgive me, I am growing bored of this so I will find something else to do. I hope something comes. I am waiting like I always do.
Posted on: Tue, 04 Mar 2014 01:46:44 +0000
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