Hassles.

Aug 6, 2010—I survived the Feast of the Transfiguration, but not very well. I was abducted and tortured again last night. I woke up with a puncture mark behind my right ear. There is no doubt that the PIB’s released another bunch of bugs into my brain in yet another one of a never ending attempts to pry my will and spirit open to their brainwashing. I wish I could just convince these torturers that there is no way that I am going to break, and if they can’t accept that, please go ahead and just kill me. I was severely autistic all day; down with a sick migraine and no energy for most of the day, though I am trying to force myself to do at least one chore a day in the outside world. I tried to go to the gym, but I was too weak to do anything, though I faked it for about 20 minutes. I am so distressed about the loss of muscle and increase of larding that I am experiencing, that I am committed to try to work out at least once a week, but I don’t know if there is anything that I can do to stop the deterioration of my body. As a matter of fact, I have given up on ever completely recovering my bodily health and vigor. I haven’t done yoga in over three weeks. There is only so much energy I have, on a good day, about 1/3rd of what is normal for me, and it is clear to me that my body will never recover from the torture that I have endured over the last eight years. Even now I am looking at the purplish bruises on my feet and the multiple slash marks at the border of the foot and shin, and worry that permanent damage has been done to my feet and ankles. Then there is the cosmetic dismay at the premature skin stretches and wrinkles on my legs and arms from years of severe edema, and then the draining, all the while denied the treatment that would have addressed the problem. What little energy I have left is to try to follow the news and current events over the Internet—which takes even more energy now that I have to go to the library and deal with all the hassles involved in public queuing and sharing of space. Earlier today, I was too sick to concentrate on reading so I just skimmed some email and a few posts. Typically for me, I feel better now that it is 11 at night. My hormonally altered, night-owl circadian rhythm is just starting to kick in, but unfortunately the library is closed and won’t be open until 10 am tomorrow. Hassles. Hassles. Hassles.

August7th--The good news is that I accomplished my chore of the day--laundry. The bad news is that I was so weak that I could barely stand in the laundromat, and just stuffed a bag full of unmatched socks--I was to weak to even pair socks. I continue to be afflicted by the onset of energy drains (the viral implant downloads) so severe that I can barely open my eyes, walk, or lift a 20 pound basket. It is the same as before. I am resigned that there is nothing that I can do about it. I know, (and they know) what I need to live like a human being--endocrine treatment and testoterone supplements, but it won't happen as long as alien influence is running this government, and right now that is the way it is. I wonder sometimes how much I should write of what I suspect and what I know, but I am not an inflammatory or harangueing type person, and find it difficult to throw out provocative thoughts and opinions without feeling the compulsive nudge or push that comes from the Holy Spirit. I ask myself, "Is that why I suffer so much?" "Is my measured and balanced response an invitation to the Nazis to keep abducting me in hopes of 'turning' me?" I don't think so. Besides, I am beginning to write in a more organized and systemic fashion. It is just painstakingly slow. Even as a college student and fine expository writer, I resented outlines as cumbersome and unhelpful. However, I realize now that such a discipline would have been helpful for me to master, as organizing and outlining in my mind is difficult when dealing with large amounts of material. Of course, in college my body was appropriately hormonally balanced and my mind was healthy, and I could keep, carry, ponder, edit, and "work" ideas in my head constantly. Now all thought is a draining struggle, just as all of life is a struggle. But I am absolutely committed. It is just going to be a slow process, especially until I can "see" the outline in my head