(This is the continuation of an earlier dialogue with the same person as an earlier post):
After reading you, and observing your rude manners and the way you speak, why would I want to confide in you about the 3 most precious experiences I’ve had. Considering you gauche nature that comes through in your writing, I think that qualifies as ‘throwing pearls to swine’, something I have no intention of doing. Just know that they were undeniable and absolutely wonderful. You do need help with anger and mania, though. You’re very angry and don’t have much worth listening too. Actually, I don’t think you would recognize a divine visitation if it bit you on your nose as you are just too full of yourself and your own opinions. You need to be open to the Lord and the spiritual world, but I did have witnesses, so comfort yourself with that, if you can that is (it is also childish to judge someone on their grammar, I’m just writing as I think out loud, I do have excellent grammar when required. But that was just another thing that made you sound a bit twisted, and I never confessed to being a missionary, I am a psychologist actually. A Christian one and we have had a huge amount of success in dealing with bipolar patients without using meds. And I’d hazard a guess and say you are bipolar, something your family no doubt suffer in you, as they are usually the ones that see it first hand, and are the silent victims of. And you can have my words and spread them around. That doesn’t bother me in the slightest.
And, not my real name, just as I’m sure yours is not Asphlex. I hope you enjoy your day, E
It is fascinating to me that you proclaim yourself Christian, then follow this by preaching the gospel of psychology. So you’re a “Christian Psychologist.” Sounds like an extremist faith, one of fanatical anarchism, living terrified of everything in some hideaway in the mountains. I bet you’re armed with shotguns and hand grenades, to help you feel safe in this world full of heretics. I’m not saying this is who you are. I’m just that that’s what you sound like. You are so busy trying to defend your ability to understand words and meaning and grammar, that you are not noticing the fact that I couldn’t give a shit about firm and appropriate grammar. Just check out the sheer volume of my run on and on and on sentences. No, I questioned the meaning of your choice of words. I mean, If nothing else, if you agree with me that grammar is variable then at least try to make some fucking sense!
You are so defensive, constantly trying to remind everyone just who we are in contact with, and if we underestimate you it is at our own risk! We’d better not count you out! Slow and steady wins the race; the come-from-behind-kid, Johnny Snake-Eyes–whatever legend we grew up wanting to be back when we were poor.
“I can do it!” you seem to always be braying. “I know how to do things right!”
And yes; yes. It really does sound just as tragic, like some entirely broken Huckleberry Finn, gone to pot and drink as an adult, just like his old man. And if we move the purely Freudian analysis aside for a few moments, we can turn this around and go more deeply inside to question your motives. Why do you do the things you do? You are either exploiting your professional education by turning theories into weapons, hopefully messing with a person you might actually think is disturbed, or are cruelly inventing this ‘psychologist’ character to shield you shield your conscience from the potential danger we may both be stepping into.
I wonder why someone gives up so much of themselves, and all their imagination, and just hands it all over to someone else’s Lord. THIS VIOLATES THE VERY FIRST COMMANDMENT, YOU BLASPHEMERS! YOU BELIEVE IN THE LORD. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU ARE NOT NOW SPEAKING WITH IT?
You have another Lord you worship before the God of Abraham, staring at your new-fangled golden calf representing whichever moral or social imperative you apostatize for or against, depending on your station in life.
Your Lord is only an idealized vision of you. You pray to a God that is made only out of you. Apparently you have done such a good job inventing this excuse that you have convinced yourself you have discovered all there is to know. God is the answer! And you leave it there–
How the fuck is this supposed to help someone actually struggling with perhaps severe mental illness? What if your words had made me so hopeless that I started crying and walked off into my garage, here after midnight, and turned on the engine and went to sleep? What if I took pills or slashed my wrists or hung myself in my children’s bathroom so that they would find me in the morning? The truth is that you just don’t know. I may be batshit–I may be a different cult’s recruiter, trying to recruit you into my way of thinking in the same way you pretended you were interested in recruiting me.
It is your behavior that denounces the existence of God. If God was so worthwhile and in such absolute control over every moment of our destiny, why in the world would It choose to save someone like you? You are a scar on faith–a gushing sore spot. You are the pustule leaking out all the true wisdom of God, and turning it into a superhero story about a first string quarterback winning a college football game. We are all false gods. We are endless revisions of the unknowable.
There is no God. There is no God. And I finally have you to thank for letting me know that what I’d always suspected was true. You may someday be the lone prophet of my brand-new faith.