anobody

ISHO is the Eastern Syriac way of saying Jesus in Aramaic (aramic.rocks et. al. 2022)

Shoutout again to Sam S. – referencing later is such a jam!

Dear ISHO,

Why do you not literally slay me now? I was just about to read some erotica (Anne Rice et. al. 1983). It was birthed from listening to a book about you actually (Anne Rice et. al. 2008), and my lizard brain (Hank ?? et. al. 2022) knew what it wanted.

Surely you would not be pleased by that. I tried to rationalise to myself that I am not lusting after any real women (5:27-28 | Matthew et. al. +80). I was going to use that single drawing I drew, derived from another drawing from Pinterest (Kripa Kharel et. al. 2022). And that I was lonely, without a suitable companion, like Adam (Genesis 2:20 | Moses et. al. -600), and like Adam, I would like YOU to bring her to me, and this was a temporary balm. YUP, I AM FUCKING INSANE!

I feel most together when I am in a mess (Like This | NF et. al. 2019). I am a catastrophe (Whatever It Takes | Imagine Dragons et. al. 2017).

And that since I was such a scared, fucking, cowardly idiot who didn’t want to ever date again, for fear of rejection, for fear of pain. I am such a god-damned weakling. I had better find ways to console myself without burning a conscience, since singlehood is what I have doomed myself to do. Doom. Fate. Destiny.

How have I doomed myself? Because I have promised that I would love my old selves. The old selves loved this girl that broke up our brief window of conversation this year. She was my first crush in my teenage years. I saw her at church for around a year – before my father was moved to another church.

I promised myself, that if I was to befriend death (…) – no I wanted to take it a step further – to belove death – I was also going to belove my past selves by committing to this – she will be my last crush. First and last. To let myself be crushed again, that would do disservice to all the past me’s, all the boys I have loved (…), all the mes I have loved (and hated, for this is the split nature of man, the broken image of God (…) ).

How the heck am I going to marry her? No fucking clue. I am just doing the dreaming (…), the deep sleep (…), and leaving ISHO to do the rest. I am the weak-man, ISHO is the strong-man. And if I die a pitiless, hapless romnatic of a virgin (YOU DID TO YOURSELF ANOBODY! YOU CAN BLAME NO ONE BUT YOURSELF) I will hold on to my bloody misinterpretation of the following verse …

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. (NIV, John et. al. +90)

Plus, I would not be the first man in this long history of life and death to have died a virgin. Definitely not the first, definitely not the last.

If I was to ever marry in this short life, I would not give my heart to no other. Half of my heart to her. Half of my heart to you ISHO. If you want my whole heart, you had better slay me for my whole heart. I will not keep the first and greatest commandment (…).

Our past is like death. It haunts us, it strikes fear in us. If the past evaporated, we will feel so free! (and lose our sense of self?) If death no longer was a reality, we will also feel so free! (and lose a part of our humanity?)

The ominous drums beat in the caverns of my heart – a heart. As the seal on my vows hardens, the seal to my future, my dreams of darkness and light, I wonder, why must I torture myself. Will I ride this horse of my vows, this horse of my dreams, into the unknown? I will. I have nothing to lose except pain. Pain is what I what I want to lose. No more rejections. I hope the spirits will bring her to me, like Beauty to the Beast (…). Yup, I am loony! And yet, a life out of billions.

Does it matter that I am doing an experiment with God, with ISHO, with The Dream Catcher, for myself? It’s a funeral, it’s what floats a boat (David B. et. al. 2019). Maybe, if I really mess this up, I will ask for a physical rebirth. Just to give this another shot, cuz the experiment failed. I died a virgin, not married to THAT girl.

The only way to reason with myself is this – that this is the easy yoke, and if God is real, I will be able to show off how easy He can make life be. That the girl will come running into my arms, and I don’t need to try. Parade myself around like the birds of paradise. Put on a mask, put on a suit of shining armour, trying to hide the beast within. She will see a beast within and yet she will love me. I will inspire a holy envy in other men, as they see how easy it is for me. This is a easy yoke. This is a dreaming (…). This is a deep sleep (…).

I like changing “my” to “a”, because what the Lord gives the Lord can take away (…)

The hard thing is waiting to see whether ISHO would do it, or whether I will die a pitiless virgin with a shit-tonne of FOMO when it comes to sex with the opposite sex.

I do my best to use ISHO every-time, no “he” or “she”, for our gender-neutral culture. I am kowtowing to the mob.

If the latter comes true, Heaven better be better than sex. Consummation of all those who were “engaged” to Jesus upon rebirth (…). When we will see him as he is, his spiritual nakedness on display.

I have heard that life is more than sex and money (…). Easy for people to say who have it, who don’t have to struggle with being an outcast (…).

Or maybe I am just kidding myself. Playing the victim. Maybe everyone feels like an outcast, and have to hide it with their ego, their mask, their pride. I love tearing off this mask online – like Ichigo (…) – and showing this body of death (…), this hollow self (Thomas Merton et. al. 1949) to the whole world.

one reason that I am staying faceless and nameless is that i do have a family of seven … and I do not want to bring shame to their name, the opposite of honor (…) and make life any harder than it is. Life is hard (…) enough as it is. More like FUCKING DEATH, THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL THIS LIFE.

I am first generation born from Malaysian-Chinese migrant parents. Moved states three times.. Moved house five times in my life. Moved between church groups at least seven times. 

Yeah, I am feeling sorry for my old selves. Let me mope, all you white flying angels. I am the black angel with the broken halo (...) here.

Whew ISHO, i sure got sidetracked here. It’s like I was not even tryin’ to talk to you, lol.

Will you take me tonight (lol, i am editing this in the morning)? Pretty please? *metaphorical puppy eyes*

Cheerio (I love vanilla flavoured Cheerios, they have low sugar at ~5% now! Less guilt, more joy)

anobody

It’s 10:58, and the rule of the window drops, I must leave … to keep to the rules … I love rules! And then I hate them! And then I break them!

Don’t get me wrong, referencing is good (…), but this man here – me – is very good (…). I will write more tomorrow, if I live to see another day.