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The "I Am The Hypocrite Letter" to God

Dear God, (If that is the name that you should be referred to as.)



I find it very difficult to believe in you, but I once had a faith that shattered my life, and I still consider it to be a much wasted time, that I was very disappointed in. Dispite the rejection of the peers that claimed also to follow that faith, dispite the disassociation of the ones that could not relate to me, or refused to, because I thought differently from them, dispite the condemnation, and the down cast that I have received in an actual belief of you, and interest in the scripture of my former faith, the essence of your word refuses to leave my conscience. Out of a sheer frustration, and an apytome of rage, all of the scripture of my former faith, and the impatience that I had with you, once and for all, I shredded the scripture in violent thoughts, I burned the scripture, and smoked various substances out of them. I even burned and shredded them on a ground of a religious sanctuary and refuge. Why the fucking hypocricy? Why the condemnation of simply being a natural life form? In the scripture, why do you command death upon "sinners" in which you do yourself? You ask us not to envy or covet, yet you have admitted to being a "jealous God," and suffering the "non-believers" not to live. Am I deluding myself with an inferior, yet evolved culure, that claimed to be the absolute truth, and later became the Iconed Western God, that became the punisher and destroyer of many faiths? I seeked out in search of truth through, philosophy, various other faiths, religions, and the Occult. Yet, none of them were fully satisfactory to my search of "absolute truth," thus being all irrelevant to what I truly seek. Truth is very much relative, and always in perspective, in accord to the receptive perseption of the individual. Yet, the scripture refers to this as the result of human confusion and sin, that we hane some how abandoned you. Yet, where is your prescence in the world? It says that you seek the seeker, yet you still hide away. You tell us not to murder, yet you have intentionally murdered, plagued, and cursed yourself, and send even ethical people to the worst judgment imaginable, yet you claim to be tolerant, and the ultimate forgiver. Is this the ultimate balance, or is this the ultimate hipocricy? I tend to lean toward the latter. I am very fluent in knowledge and usage of the scripture in many ways, yet still the most confused, being on my own path which isn't the "straight and narrow path" that Jesus allegedly referred to. Eventually after the endless rejection of the "straight and narrow path," the endless apologies for being human, and the desolance that you find in other faiths that you can not find the truth that you seek, you tend to give in to the ideals that there isn't much 0f a point to life, that it is all irrelevant, and your induldgence leads to death, that you don't really reject, yet dispise the life that you suffer in. I don't want the individual perceptive truth, I don't want any other person's truth, I don't want a faith that can only be useful for ethics, and half baked truths, and I don't even want my confused and fallacies of my truth. I want to find the peace, wisdom, knowledge, assurance, and salvation of the absolute truth. This is not a prayer, yet more of the last plea for wisdom that I seek. If not, I give up my faith completely, and will never seek you out again. I am sick of not being answered. I am sick of being confused and lost in my path. I am sick of dwelling in "spiritual darkness," if there is such a thing. The scripture says not even to tempt you, yet how can an individual believe in you, if they can never find you? This is my last plea. If not revealed to me, in a reasonable and enlightening manner, free from knowledge through suffering, then I wish condemnation on YOU, and hope that YOUR path lyes in the pits of YOUR very Hell that you created, in which you punish ones with ethics, and simple disbelief of a "truth" that is never revealed to them, or the lost heart and mind that wishes that they had an intangible absolute to b4elieve in, that was the ENTIRE truth, without a flaw of ANY sort.







Seeking you,



-Sean

Sunday, September 24, 2006



Brain Bashing, Drugs, Ninja Kicks, Conserts, Lesbian Envy, And Other Shit...

Current mood: crappy





Brain Bashing, Drugs, Ninja Kicks, Conserts, Lesbian Envy, And Other Shit.



It was Thursday night, marking the beginning of a kick ass weekend. I was trapped in the library, with nothing to do, as most expected routine nights, and I had decided to leave early, but make a quick detour to Kharma's My friend, Sid, Kirby, and another, were drinking coffee, and playing Pinte. Being bored, we decided to go get stoned to to pass time, and for common liesurely activities. Kirby, and his friend were doing ninja drop kicks on a slant lawn, which isn't a good thing to do while you are stoned. We were all dazed, and kept falling on our asses, before we could even connect or be connected with the kicks. I had taken the biggest hits from the bowl of QP that we had. I had also tried something knew that a friend of mine told me that I should try. "Pop Corn." I was smoking the left over stems of the QP marijuana, along with a lot of the seeds. It was quite an interesting experience. It was mush harsher on the throat that a common hit, but the rush attributed to the effects, causing you to feel more anebriated. I saved some seeds that I plan on growing, to make a new batch. lol This past Friday night, My friends, Angie, April and I attended the Bullets For My Vallentine Consert at the Gypsy Tea Room., Along with 18 Visions, and some other band that was only a side show for promotion. I was disappointed that it was for all ages, but we still had a blast. The music flared the entire club, which must've been packed with atleast 1500 people. I went moshing on many occassions, until the little high school emo kids controlled the pit, which I feel to bad to bring them any harm. Ther first mosh, I was on a rampage like it was OZ Fest, and began thrashing everything in my path, until I heard screams from the other combatants. I knew to ease down, because the emo kids, who shouldn't have even been in the mosh pit would complain too much, and would have fallen down like corpses after a couple of collisions. The high light of the night was when I was picked up and went crowd surfiung over the masses, where I got my head slammed on the edge of the stage. The girl in front of me needed assistance from security, where I was left alone in all rottringness and daze to find my friends in the crowd again. We had coffee at Cafe Brazil, where I jokingly gave my brother a hard time doing his job at work. He seemed to be alright, and pleasant to see me and my two companions. The next night was the most harsh strain of the weekend. Angie, April and I attended an all-day consert at Texas Jive, where there was a lot of Heavy Metal bands, due to a promotion, thanks to my friend, Mark. I suckered my friend Audrey into coming with me as well, and greeted other friends that I recognized. Most of the night had been about chilling, smoking whatever you brought, and getting drunk ofcourse. The first part of the night sucked for me, because no one that came with me wanted to dance, because "they couldn't." Atleast Audrey tried. I grew envious of seeing only the lesbians dance together and grope each other, on the small floor. The species of female hetrosexuals is nearly extinct. lol. The human pin cushion, and the girl who swollowed a balloon, and a guy chopping fruit on another guy with a very sharp muchede with perfect presision was quite amusing. It sucked that the wet T-Shirt contest was cancelled, due to lack of participants. The would've received. $50 bar tab, and $50 cash, hosted by none other than "Big Mama," who was actually a soft heft guy. Go figure. Perhaps if the award was bigger, it would've gone through. Rockin' out to mad castle and other bands, I kept pounding my head on the stage, consistently banging it, punching my knucles on the stage until they bled, visializing beating my father to death, which I still have the briuses for, took a lot of energy out of me. The mosh pit was even lamer than the one at The Gypsy Tea Room the night before, thus not being worthy of any mention. I bailed at 1:45, fifteen minutes before the bars let out, so I wouldn't be arrested for public intoxication, walking the street. I went to my friend EB's outside smoke shop to get anebriated off of "LEGAL" herbs this time, amusingly watching dick head cops, seemingly in in penis top clown suits with pig ears, smelling like bacon, picking the jail bate drunks as they exited the bars, and were found with illegal substance. (Audrey, if you read this, never try to pull me out of the mosh pit again, getting fucked up is my personal choice, and I will reap the consequences, just like the drawing, depicting the alcohol beverages, where the man's soul became a beverage for the demon to consume.) Thankfully, I wasn't pulled over and searched. lol I got a ride home as usual, from Angie about an hour and a half afterwards. I can still feel the fucking grinding in my neck, and the endless chronic headaches that are packaged with the price of lawless adventures

High Fefe....

Current mood: high





High Fefe....



I hope that these Corecedin pills ware off soon. I'm beginning to see Christina Aguelera monsters. lol Fefe, it was great finally getting to meet you this weekend, and fun getting high with you and Trish, but that feeling is something that we've come to grow accustomed to. lol Too bad tht we didn't have any alcohol. It would have been very entertaining to see you shit-faced drunk. That is a necessity that we should not forget the next time we meet; among other a variety of other friends, depending on how much substance that we posess. Too bad that our primitive African-American adversaries chose not to follow us after we left Autozone, when they wanted "a hit off my pipe." I would really have loved to beat them down with my pipe. I hope that you enjoyed the Chai. Be sure to drink it again, hot, sometime, and add a lot of sugar. You can never have too much sugar. And I'll keep in mind when you expressed in your own words..."I'm only drunk when I'm a lesbian." I am almost certain that Trish will follow that more closely than I will. If the pindehole nacho club, or the yard monkeys at school fuck with you again, we will go on a drive by rampage launching buritos at them, and beating them to the ground with brass knuckles, until thier conscienceness no longer exists. I'd love to have the liberty of beating up thier corpses as well. lol Well that's it for now. Until next time take care of yourselves and each other. "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighbor! Will you be mine? Won't you be mine?" Goddamn, I'm so fucking stoned right now. lol I've always wanted to butcher Mr. Rodgers like live stock anyway, then let his puppets feast on him. lol I'm too fucking stoned for my own good. lol Tell Trish that she owes me a half bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. She'll know what I mean. lol

COMMENTS

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FlawlessForce
04:57 May 31 2017

RIP, my friend.

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POST COMMENT

A Saved Animal And A Totalitarian Shit Brain That I would Love To Eliminate

This past week, we found out that one of my rats, Lesbo, had a tumor. We decided that it would be right to take it to the veterinarian for operation. When evaluated, the coost was a mere less than two hundred dollars that I would gladly pay for. It is scheduled for Tuesday. She's like a family member to me. I hope that the operation goes well and pays off. At this event, theperson in whom, I'm supposed to refer to as "Father" is always in an irate tangent over the trivial, and looking to hammer and discriminate me on virtually every issue. He bitches and complains about his favorite football team losing to the poindt of a literal heart attack, under serious condition. He makes fun of me for my suicidal tendancies, and my lack of a belief in any religion, and on a daily basis, threatens to put me on the street persitently on every issue. Whether it be, bringing antoher pet home, cleaning my room, or not dealing with the shit that the bastard imposes. He then tries to make good terms with me when I ignore his pathetic words, and reveal his insignificance in my conscienceness. He was irate about the rat having to have surgery, and kept encouraging me to "put her down," or kill her, even when I had the money to save her, and he didn't need to pay a goddamn dime of it. He threatened to kick me out of the house if I brought home another pet, or stayed out too late on the week days, and has the fucking nerves to tell me to stay gone for the night. I'm fucking tired of his tyrannical dominance of his house, his excessive threats, his continuos engagement to try and fight me, and the anger and contempt that he has for me, because of his inability to control me, which has reoccured for years. He would punch me in the had in grade school for failing a test, , or bang my head off of the steering wheel for getting an office referral. Then has the nerve to try to befriend me, tell me I'm his most prominent child after the abuse and slander that has contributed to the epilepsy that I bare? It pisses him off when I refuse to fight him now, when he knows that I could easily make it a one sided stomp. I find it entertaining to observe the aggression in his eyes, that drive him physically to the brink of death, hoping that he falls at my feet, to stomp him down on his way to hell. I can visualize myself scalping off his face and making him eat it, then beating him to death, until his conscienceness leaves him, and he 's merely a corpse. Not a day goes by that I don't wish death upon him. Whether he crashes on his way to work, is linched by thugs, or personally murdered by me in his sleep, which I think about continuously. If nothing was on the line, I would have finished it a long time ago. Yet there would be no satisfaction in his suffering. I want to cruscify him to the wall with stak knives, pinning his feet to his bed, and burning him while he is still alive, then eat him afterwards. I hate him, and I want to eliminate the piece of trash at a soon date. I never saw much point to life anyway, so what would it matter the consequence if I was to take his away? I'd merely slit my throat on death row the night afterwards and consider it to be a happy ending.

nothing

Neurotically disoriented



Omitted to cruscifixion on existinentialism's gate way



Trechorous entrapment to Sheol's realm



Hollucenogenic reality altered upon an infernal abyss



Incipitent discorrelation among the slum of society



Nihilistic internal gloom



Groped with insanity's misanthropy







"The people who walked into darkness have seen a great light; Those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has been shined."



-Isaiah 9:2



As I cringe my conscienceness, traveling to and fro the breadth of Fried Street, I am internally scolded to the outcast of society. I labor ample seas of time to find my place among the hissing jackels. My lonliness is an exclusive disease that will never ceise. Given opportunity, I can express the light house that my diminished spirit can dig from it's sement grave. A curse of mutement and silence has imposed me. My waning soul merely seeks acceptance. Isolation has destroyed my balance. Why do I forever suffer disassociation? Why must I bare the burden of being ignored among the populous of any kind? I rottingly scower among the root of no existence, and manipulate my mind to a sub-appeasement among the "spiritually lost." My thought and craft has been confounded with a jagged blade into by absent heart. I spiral among the masses to converse, yet still they shun my thoughts and seal my existence ignored The ruins of Fried Street, like the harlot city Babel, and "Gate Way to a god" is soon diminished. I exclaim the numbing of no existence with a mental knife that whose hands have none clean. I bare a prayer blank of acknowledgement and answer. I merely ask for signicance among the decay of existence.

Sin And Salvia

My first few experiences at the Delta lodge have been quite amusing. Alcohol, marijuana, new minds, and beautiful women at every corner. I felt right at home. Drug art is fluttered throughout the house on every wall. Acid and shrooms galore. Zombie night was standard. Makeup, beer, weed, just another typical college party. Eighties night, I cam e close to being arrested, along with others who attended. Mainly because there were minors at the party, and law enforcement are dick heads. There was no one there under eighteen, most of them were students, and the onlly alcohol that most received was from a beer keg. They accused us of being intoxicated, when all that a friend of mine and I had was two beers that night. Unlike the Bourbon and Rum that I had the night before. We left the party the first time to go across the street to Texas Jive, which is a bar, here in Denton, snuck a few drinks, then decided to go back to the party to escort a friend of ours back to her place, who was getting stoned from extasy. It was only ethical, and I do not regret going back for that specific reason. When we tried to leave the party for the second time, we were confronted by a squad of police officers, that took our names an addresses. Several were arrested. They referreled us to the college. God forbid all of the other fraternity's do the same shit, but the Delta, right by Fry St, has a party that doesn't harm anyone else. We have to make sure that they have no fun of any kind, even knowing that it is a private resident. It could have been worse. Under age drinking is a Class A misdemeaner. I can't afford to have that three months before my twenty-first birthday. The very next night, they had the toga party, which my instincts had told me not to attend, because of what occured the previous night. Rather, I went bar hopping with a close friend again, and JJ's and The Drink, where we saw live bands, Fatty Poindexter, snjuck drinks, and smoked our lungs to crisp, from just about any parifanilia imaginable. Coffee shop attendance was ofcourse on the list, where you can smoke anything, and no one will fuck with you. The new "sin tax" on alcohol, bars and ciggerettes infuriates me. It was imposed by bible-belf, corporate religious fucks to destoy environments, where people are merely looking to have harmless fun, and appreciate entertainment. Not to mention that the root of all evil is allegedly the love of money, which represents greed, wouldn't taxing it and profiting from it, be an even greater sin. It's more encouraging actually, knowing that your taxes are contributing more to the community by buying alcohol and smoke goods. My first trip on Salvia this weekend was quite a unique experience. I had first tripped with three other friends, right before we went to a party. We smoked marijuana from my glass pipe first top ease tension and clear our headaches. When on the Salvia trip, my frien Sid was immediately laughing hysterically, and claimed that his hand on his knee looked like his ass. Another associate felt as if he was being wedged out of his body, and levitating to another place. Kirby and I were left, half phased, so we took more hits from it. He felt as if he was having an outer body experience, and hearing voices that wanted control of his body. I felt as if I was being stapled to the ground, and everything was much larger and further away. Rather than being in an appartment, I felt as if I was in an arena. The sound reception was awkward as well. Vibration tones were perceptively, physically uplifting. We felt very empowered after the trip though, and felt great actually. The next night, I tripped in the car, with my friend Brittain, we leaned our seats back, and took the hits. He claimed to have tunnel vision, and everything was further away than what it seemed. He said the wind shield seemed like a mile away, and hew too felt as if he was in a very hot arena. We walked outside among the fresh air. I saw the trees coming to ther gound, and me rising to thier level. It's something I won't forget, and will certainly do again. It clears your headaches, and makes ytou fgeel as if you are floating , while being powerleesly compressed back, if you submit to it. Itr only lasts for about fifteen to thirty minutes for most people. Depending on the extract number, and what person you are. If you have never trioped on holucenogens, such as acid or shrooms, I would suggest smoking this as a sample trip to determine if you really want to trip on the substances that last for hours, and engage the mind into thoughts and destuctive visions unknown.