If you read this you are a criminal

Categories: innersanctum


I feel like sharing anything about my life is literally disgusting because I do not trust anyone, but as usual, it’s like necessary because I decided to move 5000 miles across the world, remain a recluse, which was in preparation for the pandemic and lockdowns, so the internet will always suffice <3 and I don’t feel bad, I actually prefer it, and whether it’s due to biological disposition or social consequence, or whatever else we like to blame for everything… I don’t care. 🥲 even though, the fact that they want me to care and think I should care makes me care in an indirect way and that they’re looking down on me for what makes me happy and considering it as bad makes me feel bad. Um… 😗😗😗

I forgot what I wanted to say now. It’s like, yeah… like *loudly chewing bubble gum and uneasily squirming in chair* I don’t care as much anymore. I care, but I care more about what directly matters to me and less about what doesn’t. I’ve made my world a bit smaller. Probably because it’s a sort of mental masochism to give a fuck what a stranger miles away from you and with barely anything in common with you thinks about things neither of you has any real control or influence over. I have better things to increase my blood pressure over. Or do I? I’m lying to myself 💗💗💗

Earlier today I became disoriented after too acutely realizing that my body is wholly dependent and shaped by my close environment and that my mind is quite literally distributed across the apartment and intimately connected to every tiny object and speck of dust filling it up.

The nature vs. fake argument always gets under my skin. I have to remember it’s just one whorl in the endless reverberating cycle of reaction and backlash. I think it irritates me even more because of how clinging to the past and tradition gets in the fucking way of living and making new things. There is so much shame surrounding the maintenance and obsolescence of traditions, and not just in the colonial crunchy right-wing trad niche. Like, shaming someone who does something differently, shaming when things are too novel and new, shaming people who go against the norm or status quo (depending on what your myopic view echo chamber built for you). It’s fucking annoying and boring and dull. It’s literally a miracle that anything has ever been invented built or created before. I’m sure that in the beginning, killing, protection, and defense drove innovation, and now it’s driven by another type of homicidal competition. I don’t care. I mean, I like shaming and judging others as much as anyone. I dedicated a whole post here to mocking the beautiful intricately invasive, and public financialized surveillance system that the blockchain is going to create. I feel like it’s my god-given right to be a hypocrite.

What else… I’m so tempted to blog about my medical procedure but I don’t know if I ever can. I want to but I’m so terrified and it’s like CHOKING me. I can’t even tell my best friend some parts of it. Ugh.. I doubt anyone reads this… I’ll just put it here:


No one will decrypt that. OMG. I just typed about what it is, but no. No one online deserves to know that about my life, whether or not I type this for my own well-being or not. The better question is why do I want to post it online?

The entire world needs to be whipped with a massive ultra-high-energy wave of ancient galactic cosmic radiation. And it needs to penetrate deep into the core of this planet to alter the magnetosphere.


Okay, it’s like some days after I wrote that. Oh, I started typing that on 22/02/2022. It’s 06/03/2022.
Now that I’m here to type I feel like I have nothing to say. I had some things to say in my mind an hour ago. What is it about typing that feels so awful now? You know, I think it’s just everyone’s opinion on things.

People don’t know how not to care about things that don’t matter. Meaning that I’m scared to say anything because of what some dumbfuck will think about what I think, which, what I think doesn’t matter very much. And it’s like, I can’t even think or type on the internet because of these fucking Klaus Schwab cock sucking bastards. Truly—trying to force people to be as unchanging as a static webpage is inhuman. Can I please freely think… Just because I typed it online doesn’t mean I believe it. You’re going to read my blog and then try me in a transnational fascist court for crimes against humanity because I called you a fascist for trying to censor me.


💗 The vaccine detects when I’m calibrating to specific vibrational wavelengths and when I get too close to synchronization, it short-circuits my cellular bioelectricity to prohibit me from feeling or experiencing anything too intensely. I can’t even orgasm anymore. The vaccine reignited my clinical depression. I’m a husk of who I was before! The vaccine hollowed me out.. it penetrated my DNA and sunk into my ovaries and coated my endometrium before I bled out the follicle it mutated. It poured itself over my skin like deep pulses through the nervous system web. It’s like, I had sex with the vaccine…it’s inside me.. replicating and replacing me, atom by atom….

Blogs and substacks are long-form Tweets. I type on my blog so I can refine and excavate potential Tweets. I read books so I can be inspired to Tweet. I study history and current events so I can provide more insightful social and political commentary related Tweets. I create things so I can upload photos and videos of them on social media and sell them as NFTs. I study evermore esoteric and hidden history so I can display my possession of secret knowledge which signals my elitism and dominance over cheap information abundance. I reach further and further back into time to take whatever’s left obscure in human history to expand my online influence and branding. It’s not new. I have a body so I can make money with it. I exist in reality so I can exploit, maneuver, and survive off of it. Consolidate. Everything is the same. Two of wands energy. I need to see the world in front of me. I would electrocute it. Stun gun the planet, anesthetize it then put it under a form of hypnosis the solar cycle couldn’t overpower. No, see, I need to see something unseen. There’s something I’m not seeing.

Anyway, living is too mainstream and everything is pressuring me to be valuable so instead, I have to be worthless out of disdain for their pathetic systemxxxxx hahah! Ahahaha

Remember when my dad died in 2019 and I got blackout drunk on periscope because I didn’t want to go to sleep or be alone and I had thousands of people watching me. I had the maximum popularity I’ve ever received at once online, all for live streaming and making a sadistic voyeuristic exhibit of addiction spiraling suicidal self-hatred. That’s the same popularity as a lot of whatever is popular online. They’re all inside my mind. And then they traumatize me and keep me there. Traumatic internet experience induces neoteny. I don’t think it would work well for algorithms and mirror world simulations for us to change very much. They’re betting on us remaining the same for years and years. Predictive software isn’t as nuanced as we’d like, and it’s easier to just go off the past, forever. And if we’re going off the past to predict the future, it’s more efficient for us all if we simply remain the same and do the same things. Predictable and easy to control. Boring… dull… repeating the same things.

I was thinking of how sexist, racist, misogynistic, discriminatory silicon valley and its techbro culture are and how those values are embedded in the software they develop, and how ironic it is that early 20 year olds are espousing similar worldviews. I’m not saying it’s related, but I think it could be a factor. Generations are always being conditioned to dissent in perfectly controlled ways. There is no organic opposition, there is no freely developed opposition and there is no genuine opposition that is not consolidated to suit the ends of entrenching global power, wherever that is. The endless reverberating cycle of backlash.

I’ve always had a fantasy of being rescued. Someone will message me online someday and rescue me from living life.

I think they’re probably interfering with the cosmic radiation being sent to people. Certainly, the government can use some laser beam frequency emitter to neutralize a wavelength sent directly to you from a dead star five hundred million lightyears away. Of course, they can penetrate through the electromagnetic current and deposit poison where instead love and enlightenment was sent, they can take your aura and splinter it, and of course, they can stop a butterfly from flapping its wings on the other side of the planet just to make sure you have a bad day. That’s why they have to make bees go extinct, to destroy humanity. It’s like, would you think that a vaccine could sever you from divinity if WHOLEEARTHDICKTATORSHIP666 didn’t post it on Twitter? The other thing is that I don’t like being powerful. I know I can reach the pitch-black secret false bottom of the psychic reservoir and live in the mauve zone above the cosmic carbon reserve but for what? The real problem is that I haven’t been making anyone’s life better recently and because of that I’ve been trapped in the two of wands energy.

I’ve been so selfish and self-centered and self-absorbed and self, self, self. I think part of it is because I grew up so alone and acclimated to that and so I have to be like, the … I have to care about myself in a way that normally other people should if I had a Distributed Social Caregiving Network. I feel bad. I feel. I think. I am going. I have. REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. But on the other hand, fuck it because I’m actually not that bad and not very anything. I’m just trying to fucking LIVE OMG. Fuck the audience. Fuck what the faceless fuck reading this thinks. Fuck what you think. Fuck you.

It’s my 8th house profection year. In 2010, I was 19 and that was an 8th house profection year. That year was horrible, I think… I think that was when I lived in Rockford and my ex cheated on me and then went to jail and I had a miscarriage while browsing Tumblr in bed next to a jar of leeches I had bought from a fucking fishing supply story my gosh… or maybe that was 2009-2010, I’m pretty sure it was then. And I think I left mid late 2010 and moved to Chicago and started becoming more normal sort of.. Oh well, that was just such a scary time. I read a few my tweets from 2018, which wasn’t anywhere near 2011 time when I started using Twitter, but even back then it’s embarrassing. I used to tweet about sex and fetishes all the time. I think, even now, it’s just so difficult to see myself as being valuable without sex. That’s why having a body to be accepted and portray a certain image in real life is the same as having a body to take selfies and make money off posting videos. We’ll use anything we can to earn value, and that’s never unforgivable. It’s the culture and what is determined to value and the mechanisms which reinforce and what rewards are given for achieving that value, which is… well… everyone alive is complicit. Acceptance is the first step.

The serpent tempting me is obviously so hot. That he cares that much to talk to me, that he took form in the world just so I could see and hear him? That he thinks I’m that special and worthy to know this hidden information that even God doesn’t want me to learn?

Too bad it’s all fucking fake and everything is a lie !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, I have to sleep but this definitely helped. Maybe I can type here again and start caring about my little websites… it’s alcoholic energy. “Maybe I can finally care.” Sike!


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