“Mom”! His voice is stretched across the intercontinental connection that we call iphones, “Cath’s girlfriend just died, she fell out a window!”
Collecting my senses, “What do you mean? What happened? Was she alone?”
The air is suddenly thick. It’s like a shroud that envelopes you when trauma of this sort is levied. “Do I know her?” My face screwed up and my voice became scratchy.
His breathing quickens. I hear him panting as his blood pressure screams through his head. He does not know death. There were those before he was born, and s few with whom he had zero connection on my side of the family, but otherwise, Death was something you read about that happened to others.
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“No. She was with her boyfriend. They were in her apartment and she fell out the window…” Process death was obviously pulsating.
My reaction? Boyfriend. Window. Not a good sign. Yet it was ruled an accident. She was just 30. And the world simply moved on. How strange that is. A person can be surrounded by 100 friends their 20+ years, and yet if one or two dies, it is an accepted normalcy. Like Pharma – declaring a side effect of ‘death’. Normalcy.
I once had a dream of writing a successful novel, but after engaging in numerous short story competitions – years passed and I realized that the game was rigged. Like every other game. Like a football game – a soccer match – or the track race with the trans boy taking the lead by 100 feet. It’s all rigged.
The only way you can succeed is by agreeing to become one of the puppets and tithing 10% to 20% for their efforts. After the tax man, the agent, the tithe, the family, the charities, you are staring at a net profit of merely 10% despite you doing all the labor. Such was the despair and fall of Brittney Spears, in my opinion. Because it wasn’t just the tithe, it was the ‘initiation’. An initiation she likely took place in that made her brain implode. She can’t get it out of her head. She participated in – evil. She thought shaving her head would make it go away – but it lived.
I imagine there are thousands of others lured into the Hollywood cartel. The children die. The parents survive. Is your first witness. Brittany died – in her soul. It is still her demon. It is like the brief encounter between the media and Joan Rivers as she is walking up the steps to her flat being asked if she ever thought American would have a gay president? She scoffed declaring it was hilarious – everyone in Hollywood knew – Michelle was trans and Obama was gay.
And as such she was ‘dieded’ mere weeks later undergoing cosmetic surgery – to shut up her strut. Because that’s what they do – shut you up permanently. Seth Rich. Which brings to mind, will Julian Assange abide by the terms of his clemency and say no more? Or will he reveal the Cartel?
People are assassinated every day. Coup plots are rumbled in the War Room – every day. And the double/triple agents are inserted into every aspect of life in order to incite you into a criminal charge – to actually create a matrix parallel justice system overlooped over our reality. Making it nearly impossible to trust – anyone. Even your boyfriend as you plummet to death out the window.
There was no autopsy.
When my son’s girlfriend broke up with him and handed back my diamond ring, whew, her response at the age of 33 was to go to a bar and get plastered with friends and the next day go to a concert. Not exactly the pining one desires in the midst of a breakup. Yet nonetheless – it reveals to him from a now distanced perspective – the extent of her compassion. Or lack thereof.
And each breakup remains an embedded bitter stem from a tree, broken and roughed on the edges. Until one day, the branches just break. And they lay on the ground chopped into pieces for the trashman. And then they’re gone.
How will my son handle this nightmare, is a mother’s challenge – knowing how to remain helpful but not hovering.
The tenuous balance that seemed healthy in our millennials seems to be splintering. They don’t understand why these Zion Masters want them to suffer. Naïve perhaps, yet they are aware enough that this is being purposely orchestrated and their lives are being systematically destroyed. For no reason. Out of their control.
When I was their age, I knew nothing. I knew DC society was ostentatious and rude, but I was naïve to the political agenda. They seem to have leaped past the retaining wall and entered into the Matrix of “NOT HAPPY”.
Unable to assimilate was my own cry for years. “I don’t understand”? “What’s the point”? What I did begin to understand is that these Zions operate from a quite barbaric brain. A small brain that we have likened to reptilian for their complete lack of compassion for LIFE.
Years ago, I had a dream. I was in an emotional upheaval at the time – divorced with a 5, 3 and 19 month old boys – no child support – no alimony… I dreamt that God came to me, I can picture him as much white with a robe of pale yellow and he linked his arm in mine and I clutched his as he took me on a voyage into Hell. He wanted me to see. It was everything insanity multiplied by a million – it was hard to breathe. But it was like he was giving me a tour… Yet we were cocooned. He wanted me to see.
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God told me that all these lost souls must be absorbed and regurgitated as ‘good’. He told me the task was monumental and he wanted me to help. I remember yelling at Him as we climbed back up to earth, that I was not strong enough! He scoffed. There was no way I could absorb such evil and not die. But that’s what He does – and the number of souls is near infinite – in Hell.
We live in a world of betrayal. No one is immune. No one can ever come out of it unscathed. But it does reveal an interesting ‘good’. Only the “good” are coming out bandaged – those whose ethics and values remain intact – despite the … crap – while the perpetrators seem to live life in a constant state of needing ‘more’. Unsatisfied. Unhappy.
Having children, whether bio or adopted, alters your psyche. For most – the animal instinct of caring, protecting, and nourishing are primal and born of ‘good’. Many childless couples, divorcees, widowers etc… buy dogs and cats to fill the void – myself included – ie I have a dog. Life without a dog would be incredibly lonely for both of us…
So, the spattering of rain coming from the depleted cloudseeded clouds has now left an abundant 1/16th of an inch of rain…. The grey silk has covered the sky and sound has all but died as the night settles. And yet – another day has passed that we remain alive!
Reprinted with permission from HelenaGlass.net.
