An ebook begins: Mother. 1452 words. “The back of her head erupted with those familiar pink tendrils, frosted with the blue of the thoughts of beings in the world of the living, tender ones and ill-advised ones, but no evil ones. The violinist continued. “Mother of realities, drink deep of every dream… let each arise above the pit of death in your ever-living womb.”
Another of my dozens of planned projects as a teenager, Mother embodies my Muse which internally governs my artistry. ipgd once cried that she was being cucked to the confusion of a friend, evidently stalking my tumblr where I had spoken towards a cosmic female mind of no identification. She then asked if they would ever find out about some nonsense female name, like she asked about the identity of Dril. Lgbtq culture having parasitized the process of her, her friends, and her extended social circles exploring my profoundly cosmic uniqueness. For instance Gigidigi friend of Toby Fox, who branded her profile as having “not been convinced her art was bad yet,” myself aggressively defending her shift from gamer comics to dreamy cosmic comics on 4chan, which were an insight into her black identity inconvenient for social justice. ipgd and other girls became obsessed with getting me to “crossdress” to expose my Muse.
The inconvenience of my creative brand to lgbtq is such that they came to a dead stop at reading my work. They could take cheap shots like claiming I looked gay (and I loved actually amicable individuals saying this) but my depictions of male characters interacting, and everything else is not something they can handle. It comes from my unique person. It is nothing like a group identity.
Mother’s distinctive trait of pink tendril “hair” while overcome by her powers is based on my experience of the back of my head feeling eerie cosmic chills when I create something that never existed before, like Underbeasts when I was designing Anomalous Phenomena, or otherworldly places featuring things like heat and cold being reversed. It does not come from the media. I was willing to cease to help the development of fields purely for the sake of my Muse, so she has had a massive impact on reality. It is all objective while my enemies speak in metaphors for their self-interested babble, mental illness and incorrect gratifying perceptions.
Zoomers pretended it was OK to be outraged I “accused them of raping me,” but their obsessive desire to get input into my mind and have conversations that do not begin with topics like ipgd come from a perversity to inseminate my Brainstorm of creativity. The same perversity that kids in school had to get in my face constantly talking to me, as they recognize that an individual like me takes in input from my environment to construct my creativity and other contributions. My sadistic glee in the late 00s was not my own, but rather the sadistic glee of my Muse to use the information from those kids and other sinful sources to leave adults screaming for years that I had such penetrating insight into their wrongs, until my window of insightfulness into society ran out because of isolation, including people online obsessively rejecting on sight giving me information to counter my Muse, who was envisioned in my mind as a brutally abused little girl.
Part of the reason she became a joke like this is that the media was pumping out validation that I had succeeded at the American dream, she received that validation and rejected it, and indicated her rejection in my household from her insane phrases like “name changing sons of bitches,” as friendly girls base their characters on me/parts of me like my red and blue sides, and tended to be a bitchy type; incestuously screaming that her “identity as my mother was being stolen,” as she wanted to dictate the whole lives of her children, which my dad acted on the last time he was here, dictating every moment of my life because he has nobody else but my mom, my grandma, and 1 friend in Florida.
Her rejection of me winning a “meritorious lottery” (also expressed by taking all my money to spend on the literal lottery, later reflected in screaming about a child’s sums of cash being stolen from her) was recorded in the national mind of America, and she was left in her house staring at security cameras instead of doing things like watching TV, as the expression of the national mind was torturous for her to see, while the TV show Hawaii Five-O (remake) was blissful to me in its ideals of life and entertainment and masculine camaraderie
And his earthly punishment is seen despite being on a path of Christianity (but not Catholicism, refusing to admit his sins) as I said I had a friend in Florida (who was ipgd) in 2011 and he laughed at me. So now he is left with 1 friend, which has national-social influence beside Divine Providence. He used to be so sociable I thought I should be learning from him, but evidently became living in terror of people finding out about my home life before becoming a Christian and aging so he has not much left but seeing me start a normal life.
Share this post