I had a spiritual journey months ago. I’d found how to dance, how to fly, how to world walk. And then as a newbie awakening shaman with no guide the way you should have, I became a prey animal. I was attacked early on and never knew it. I was pushed and used.

I could say with pride that I’m so strong I fed a crowd of energy vampires each time.

On the other hand, I was taken advantage of so badly I fed a crowd each time.

Love bombing, memory feeding, physical wounds, illusions. So many illusions… and no one is there for me. If I hadn’t had a lifetime of training, of being in programs a friend thought I was stealing valor over. My father. Being interested in weird topics that ended my career before it began. Stuck to my guns about approaching these incidents in my life with facts first. If I’d never done as my internal teachings taught me to do, I’d be dead right now and I’m not exaggerating.

So now I have to step back to the beginning of my journey and start over.

I’d put the alien and MILAB stuff behind me. I was happy as a comic artist. Dancing among the stars… they took that from me, btw. I can sort of see now, so I have to start over on that as well. But I’m strong enough to feed a pantheon. And, as I’d said to “Loki” one night, I can do anything. He’d said, “Move the planets and stars.” And I’d actually grown bigger to look at the solar system to do it, to please him, realized what I was doing and came back to size. “I won’t do that,” I’d responded. “But I’ll make you one.”  And I created a small Saturn of wyrd magic and spun it above my left hand. “You always do that planet,” he said. “I like that one,” I responded. I moved it from one hand to the other over my head, leaving a trail of stars… and thus I moved the planets and stars for him. My lovebombing parasite.

Shit happens. This is how I am about a lot of things. It’s a native thing, I’m given to understand. Shit happens. What’s bothering me is I don’t know where to stand. Do I continue returning pitch pulling from the dredges of time? I enjoy it. It has nothing to do with being given a special purpose or anything. I’d remembered it, I was kind to what I thought were the divine with it, and it was.. I dunno… I loved it.

Are any gods out there real at all?

I’ll have to work on each thing linearly here, and I want to approach it with as much of my background as I can. But my life went from having put the shit behind me, return to the old ways of the family, and right back to weird and wyrd.

I’m doomed.