Really angry as the games and doping continue. I am in terrible pain right now with a severely pulled upper quad muscle. I pulled it when I went to walk normally and my dead, stiff, Parkinsonian leg just did not accomodate. The quad pull is so severe that I wonder if it is ever going to properly heal or if it will be forever gimpy and vulnerable to strain--just another in a long list of permanent damage these medical hacks have done to my body.
I am angry too, because I struggle to read and understand what is going on with my body, and they keep doping me up to the point that I can't see straight. For some reason, tonight I am getting an extra dose--probably so I won't wake up in time to go to church tomorrow, for these moral cretins have not my physical well-being, my emotional well-being, or spiritual well-being on their agenda. I saw another one of their operatives pulling a mind reading trick on me. I hope he got what I sent back--"Prick"--I despise these people and I despise the torture that they have put me through, and I despise all of their secret lies that cloak their immorality, not only in regard to me--though God knows I have received a near fatal dose--but all Americans. But it is okay. Now that I am not deathly sick with serontonin poisoning or parkinsonian levels of dopamine deprivation (boy, now I really do understand that British man who committed doctor-assisted suicide in the Netherlands), I can detach a little bit. The psychic operative reminded me of an age-demented old man in Colorado. I would ride my bike out in the country and everytime I passed his isolated ranch house, he would gleefully drop his pants and start spraying his pee all around like a little boy with a toy gun. I could have avoided that house on my daily ride, but I said to myself, "what the heck, it makes the senile old man's day", and I got a chuckle when I saw how tickled that old man became every time he got to "drop, display, and spray." That is the kind of psychological, emotional, and spiritual immaturity I have to endure at the hands of my tormentors. The only problem is they don't spray their excrement to the wind. They spray it directly on me. But I have been pissed and shit on by them for so many times and for so long, that I am callused now. I have no civil rights left, no bodily boundaries respected, no freedom to pursue liberty or happiness, but I have got an inner human dignity and spirit (which they can't recognize since they don't share it) that they just can't crush. I just got to go deep inside and endure the beating. Fortunately God placed me in a training school for dealing with abuse as a youngster, and made me strong. It is that strength which kept me from having a breakdown while suffering with all their poisonous chemicals and it is that strength on which I rely.
I may never be free to be myself again in this world. But at least I know myself. And right now I am in severe pain, and I need to knock myself out. It is going to be a long, painful night.