The MACHINE-RA implants have been removed. Thank God. I was suffering terribly yesterday. I can only imagine the level of suffering endured by the victims who do not choose those implants--maybe because they have been reared in the cultic lifelstyle and had them implanted when they were too young to choose. Still, it was not a good day. I was extremely low energy all day--partially the virus download, partially too much damned estrogen, and partially a psychotropic, I think (I was badly constipated once again). My urine was dribbling all over my legs, and I think the same people who removed my brain implants did another cliterodectomy cut of my much maligned clitoris. I suppose I could be grateful that at least I have one. The numbers of the women who have had it excised, either partially or fully, are truly mind-boggling. Anyway, I will worry about that, when I am allowed the basic freedoms of a human being, which I don't think will be anytime soon.
From my dreams, I am thinking that somehow I helped to make peace with the "dog", "red" Sirians. I think that they are the ones who insist upon seeing me as a female avatar, akin to "Isis". I do my best to make friends and establish peace with EVERYONE I meet. I have no favorites. I don't consciously prefer being a Black male to a feminine avatar, because I like one side better than another. I make my decisions and choices, especially the ones that pertain to my self-identity on the basis of what seems to intuitively resonate with God's Will, and what is best for me. Peace in the universe is best for me (and the universe!). I especially hate to see any kind of civil war or intra-social disharmony, so I am happy to help out any way I can.
However, my good will and effort still does not deter the Sirians from drugging me. Compared to yesterday's hellish suffering, this low energy and inability to interact with or engage life is not such a big deal (what a good patriarchal female I would be--totally incapable of any kind of initiative or pro-active behavior). Like a good, patriarchal female, I would be very depressed, too. Such has been my day, today--forcing myself to do little things, but no desire to engage life at all. The funny thing is, that last night I dreamed that I was physically able to exercise again, and I was loving it! Skipping rope, doing aerobic dance and yoga--I loved it all. The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was stretch out my body to see if I had recovered my strong, vital, male body. Nope. As soon as I tried to stretch, I felt the strain that the mismatched lower back/mutilated pelvic girdle always manifests, and cringed back in pain. No aerobics for me. Hell, not even any yoga.
I continue to be miserable in the body (the Amon Ra people cut more of my torso, once again). I am so miserable with these Nazi boobs that hang out over the mutilated sides of my body. My mouth is full of the slime of excessive estrogen. I have taken six testosterone tablets today, just to push myself to get things done. I need about 5X's that amount to feel human. Still, better than yesterday, but still not free to be ME!!!