April 6—When does this drugging end? My God, how much do I have to suffer at the hands of these pricks? Every time I start to feel halfway human, they drug me again and again and again and again. Never focking ending. And all the while I got someone smirking in my face thinking they are doing something great for Jesus or a cause. After years of abuse and vitamin B12 starvation, my body is WRECKED WRECKED, so you understand. My muscles and nerves are dead and desperately need to come to life. I spent years forcing myself to move and try to work out, even though they didn’t have the fuel, B12, that they needed, but over time, the body has died. So I spent a lot of money signing up for yoga classes, but after three classes, it is becoming clear that I just wasted good money. I am so drugged during the classes that I literally feel like my body is an unresponsive corpse. Total separation between the mind and body. That is not yoga at all. Not only does someone activate the virus download in my brain before and during yoga class, but they also add on the psychotropic flavor of the day, so that I am so wasted mentally AND physically that I literally can’t do yoga, but can only go through half-hearted motions, and irregular, drugged responses while my “handler” of the moment, pushing whatever emp buttons they are given, are constantly smiling at me, “Do you feel ‘Jesus’ yet?” “Are you going to be a ‘good’ Christian (or comrade, in the case of the psychic mind probers) now, someone we can latch on and suck the vital energy out of, while we let you live a life we won’t take responsibility for ourselves?” “Are you ready to be celibate yet?” I only have the same answer that I always have. I am worthless to anyone, including God and myself, unless I am free and healthy, and being drugged on these goddamned psychotropics are nothing but enslaving and unhealthy. All I can do is hold on to a kernel of inner freedom and pray God liberate me from this hell of drugs and needy projections by “happy slaves.”

Yesterday morning, I was able to feel. I remember listening and “feeling” (which most days, I am incapable of feeling anything, numbed by either B12 starvation or the goddamned drugs) music, “Jesu, Joy of Our Desiring”, and I remembered that somewhere I had dulcimer tab for that music, and I said “I must get home and play it.” But by the time I got home, I was in a truly psychotic state and all I wanted to do was get as drunk as I could and sleep as fast as I could so that I could escape the drug-induced psychosis that my “handler” put me in during yoga class (and this yoga instructor was “in” on it, unlike my instructors of the previous two classes). I know, and/or learn which yoga instructors have integrity and which ones are just needy people pleasers and projectors. Its just that in my desire to heal, I try to work out every day and it’s a learning process. I learned yesterday, the hard way. By the time the class ended, I was so out of reality, I could barely walk. I stumbled down the steps, and recognized my own severe autism, distracted by the pattern of tiling on the floor. Having had the experience before, I looked away from it—otherwise I would be sucked into staring endlessly and counting tiles and patterns. I was so messed up that I couldn’t drive when I got to car. I sat and waited then drove home by surface streets, because I was too drugged to notice or respond to stimuli. Needless to say, no music playing for me last night. Nor will there be any music playing today, for I still am drugged on something that has all my emotions shut down. I am going to try to take care of chores, but I am not fully in reality, and once again I feel life is so hard, such a struggle, but if I see another stupidass christian grinning at me, I am going to go up and ask them, “Are you saved?” Of course I already know the answer. “Saved” people relate to others freely—not putting their psychic projections in their minds or their emotional neediness projections in a latched on drain. Going to be a bad day. Nothing I can do about it.

Oh yeh, one last little note—on Sunday, I had lost 8 pounds in one day! That was not a mistake in reading. For the previous three days I had been over 15 pounds. On Sunday I was 207 pounds. But Monday I was back up to 213 pounds. So what is going on? SOS. Tita figures out what is going on, and my slavers automatically decide to use it for their own purposes. My guess is that I need intrisic factor and when I get it, all this excess fluid on my body disappears, but then the goddamned psychotropics (not the alien virus itself, but the mood altering pharmaceuticals) causes the bloat again. Well im moodaltered alright. I am full of rage and negative energy and sick to the death of being abused. I AM SICK OF BEING ABUSED, YOU GODDAMNED PIGS!!!!