What Now Sir?
Well dear, dear readers, we slept all day and woke up to a text asking if we needed more essential meds which of course we do and now we have enough for tonight anyway and maybe tomorrow.. We've been thinking about all the scarring that was all over his body. Some scum had even carved his initials into his face. We could still make it out despite all the other scaring around and over it. We found the owner of those initials in Glasgow when they based us there. You can guess the rest.
As we remember now we couldn't let them beat him death we found extra strength and kicked open their drug supply cupboard and gave him a fatal overdose, took out the tracers and sent him to friends and let them run their happy final ending in their dumb terminal heads. They were not happy about realising no one had the body and that the drug cabinet was kicked opened and only one thing taken. The Scots knew it was us but their bosses said it was impossible and irrelevant anyway. We so glad when mum could finally get the last few messages for her that we had helped get out when they put us there, they had a fake British/Russian resistance ring taking correspondence from him laughing at it then destroying it or using it for themselves. We had a few real resistance Americans though and she finally got what they had kept safe all these years last summer.
We were hit hard with "never talk" programming and wot not about him but we thought it pointless at because we felt completely unable to talk about it anyway. Briefly we wondered why they didn't understand that then realised/remembered they didn't have emotions, not in any normal way and definitely didn't understand emotional attachments. We lost some fear of them then and that insight into them and the system that created him spread across our amnesiac systems and never really left. They could get us to pretend we thought they were real people but they could never get us to believe it again. It was great when they were trying to convince us for real because people would be programmed and ordered to help us, feed us and be nice to us. We always made the most of it while we could but never doubted it was fake
Bertie boasted about my uncle over at Grahams. Some other tool laughed with him and think they said their sick name for him that we can't remember. He told them he was my uncle and another tool just got up and left. There is some support for anti slavery work across Britian but not very much and usually part of "make her think we are not" ops. The best we can often get from folk is to get them to walk away for their own interests. It's really hard to get even that from them though because the are Satanists who don't have self interests. When asked him who the hell else would kick open a drug lock up and only take one fucking thing, someone else in the room didn't need us to answer that for him. We looked at Bertie or rather through him at every failing and perverted things propping his shitty life up and told them that before going to be cared for in death in ways he could not imagine for most of his life we did gave him more medical attention than he ever got and preformed an autopsy. He got that frustrated and confused does not compute look again.
Graham was struggling. The poor dear.
It's good we held him and talked to him and showed him care and love and treated whatever injury we could but had to stop even that though because that would mean more injuries for us both. It was good we did everything we could to try and get him and information about him out even if it did us no good at the time. Afterwards we realised that if we hadn't done even we could for him then we would not of been able to keep surviving, our part in his slavery and violent death would of been too much. We understood how helping other slaves when we could was something we had to do for us even though we knew they weren't going to be many if any like our uncle and most would be delighted to be allowed to do horrific shit to us and would never help us back on their own.
We tried working with the useless Scots programmers to take away any memory or sense of him but it didn't work. There was some higher up weirdo that was working for some interests it took ages for amnesiac us to figure out we got him thinking that is the whole slave system was crumbling with us there and if he wanted to protect it he would have to get us out for a while.. and I think that may of been when we took down the giant crystal grids way up in that oxygen deprived slave built temple and he never got to see it.
Its not like it's something we will ever stop crying over but we are making baby steps forward with the devastation. It was all kinds and beautiful inside and out so they had to do everything within their pathetic and surrendered control to mark and destroy him because he was everything they can't be and fear most, an intelligent and compassionate human being.
We are scared of coping with the emotions of the memories over the next while, especially as we are a disabled lone parent and would really appreciate genuine support from anywhere or anyone espically as the big scary machines including, the scariest of all aka Zionist machine being long crushed, exploded, melted, atomized, nuked, dustified, decommissioned, dismantled and sold for scrap.. yada yada..
I love you. I'm sorry I can't remember names even if you can tell me so I will just have to call you Uncle even though I'm not sure what it means.
"Sonny" just came on the soul spotify list. eesh.
As we remember now we couldn't let them beat him death we found extra strength and kicked open their drug supply cupboard and gave him a fatal overdose, took out the tracers and sent him to friends and let them run their happy final ending in their dumb terminal heads. They were not happy about realising no one had the body and that the drug cabinet was kicked opened and only one thing taken. The Scots knew it was us but their bosses said it was impossible and irrelevant anyway. We so glad when mum could finally get the last few messages for her that we had helped get out when they put us there, they had a fake British/Russian resistance ring taking correspondence from him laughing at it then destroying it or using it for themselves. We had a few real resistance Americans though and she finally got what they had kept safe all these years last summer.
We were hit hard with "never talk" programming and wot not about him but we thought it pointless at because we felt completely unable to talk about it anyway. Briefly we wondered why they didn't understand that then realised/remembered they didn't have emotions, not in any normal way and definitely didn't understand emotional attachments. We lost some fear of them then and that insight into them and the system that created him spread across our amnesiac systems and never really left. They could get us to pretend we thought they were real people but they could never get us to believe it again. It was great when they were trying to convince us for real because people would be programmed and ordered to help us, feed us and be nice to us. We always made the most of it while we could but never doubted it was fake
Bertie boasted about my uncle over at Grahams. Some other tool laughed with him and think they said their sick name for him that we can't remember. He told them he was my uncle and another tool just got up and left. There is some support for anti slavery work across Britian but not very much and usually part of "make her think we are not" ops. The best we can often get from folk is to get them to walk away for their own interests. It's really hard to get even that from them though because the are Satanists who don't have self interests. When asked him who the hell else would kick open a drug lock up and only take one fucking thing, someone else in the room didn't need us to answer that for him. We looked at Bertie or rather through him at every failing and perverted things propping his shitty life up and told them that before going to be cared for in death in ways he could not imagine for most of his life we did gave him more medical attention than he ever got and preformed an autopsy. He got that frustrated and confused does not compute look again.
Graham was struggling. The poor dear.
It's good we held him and talked to him and showed him care and love and treated whatever injury we could but had to stop even that though because that would mean more injuries for us both. It was good we did everything we could to try and get him and information about him out even if it did us no good at the time. Afterwards we realised that if we hadn't done even we could for him then we would not of been able to keep surviving, our part in his slavery and violent death would of been too much. We understood how helping other slaves when we could was something we had to do for us even though we knew they weren't going to be many if any like our uncle and most would be delighted to be allowed to do horrific shit to us and would never help us back on their own.
We tried working with the useless Scots programmers to take away any memory or sense of him but it didn't work. There was some higher up weirdo that was working for some interests it took ages for amnesiac us to figure out we got him thinking that is the whole slave system was crumbling with us there and if he wanted to protect it he would have to get us out for a while.. and I think that may of been when we took down the giant crystal grids way up in that oxygen deprived slave built temple and he never got to see it.
Its not like it's something we will ever stop crying over but we are making baby steps forward with the devastation. It was all kinds and beautiful inside and out so they had to do everything within their pathetic and surrendered control to mark and destroy him because he was everything they can't be and fear most, an intelligent and compassionate human being.
We are scared of coping with the emotions of the memories over the next while, especially as we are a disabled lone parent and would really appreciate genuine support from anywhere or anyone espically as the big scary machines including, the scariest of all aka Zionist machine being long crushed, exploded, melted, atomized, nuked, dustified, decommissioned, dismantled and sold for scrap.. yada yada..
I love you. I'm sorry I can't remember names even if you can tell me so I will just have to call you Uncle even though I'm not sure what it means.
"Sonny" just came on the soul spotify list. eesh.
