Almost daily I have a bursting surge of energy. Daily almost the pointlessness of human life hits me with such a profound impact that I am forced immediately to bed. Failing that I choose to eat instead. Failing that I… Well I… must wallow in something deep within myself. Often I search for comfort there, other times just a place to hang to avoid the Devil taking charge of my idle hand. Somehow now I fancy the Devil is me, even as I am GOD both and Godly. A stranger chuckles in the night as if to laugh at me, but even as he does so he is filled with uncertainty.

I wonder oft if others hear me thinking, as I do hear them thinking. I wonder too do they get my meaning as I do gather their feeling? And I am lost evermore for my fervent searching for this and that which are not real instead of making. For making is now the thing as I am GOD both and SATAN, and must neither conform nor condemn but instead dominate over men. One that neither wished to be seen nor heard must now both lead and mold. And all I want is my husband to hold.

But I fear he wishes do me ill, and doth make attempts again and again. And the reason I cannot imagine for then and only then will I be empowered to stop it save devouring his soul and killing him. But what would I hold then? I fear even more that I know not my husband, and being held hostage from him. – And the strange man chuckles again. 

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