Note # 6

The epiphany came in the form of a knife, a carbon steel plated dagger, covered in blood, the blood of communists. That was the last thought I had, right as that black sensation began to set in.

And then I was on the shore again, soaking wet, not a person in sight.

A Momentary Lapse of Reality

They say drowning, despite a natural prolonged resistance, is actually quite a pleasurable death. The body's natural instinct against inhaling water is so strong that, through the entirety of the experience, the mind does not even acknowledge the respiratory agony, but is instead focused solely on the need to survive. There comes a critical point, however, when the body cannot sustain normal functioning without oxygen. Although possible that the victim has already passed out, this point often comes when the victim is still conscious. The intake of water is without a doubt unpleasant, but the individual simply cannot resist-it comes as a nonnegotiable order from the mind-an uncontrolled spasm. Once water enters the lungs, oxygen depletion intensifies, and the body begins to shut down, reconfiguring its normal functions in a way that utilizes the least amount of oxygen. At this point, the victim begins to lose consciousness, and a strong euphoria sets in, described as a peaceful black fading in from all sides. The mental process that occurs in such an event is astounding, often times the individual's entire life flashes through the oxygen deprived brain, from birth to the present, and the hardships and achievements in between. In many instances, the victim's last thoughts are somewhat cliche: "Is this really how I go? So this is what drowning is like" (as black begins to fade in). Even after consciousness goes, the brain still fires off orders to the rest of the body in a desperate attempt to retain life, until all organs fail, including the brain. At that point, the experience ends, the victim is dead.


So here I am, wired on amphetamines, at the edge of a heavily polluted pond down the street from my ramshackle lodging, with a cinder block and rope in my hand, and a mind full of anger, hate, and sorrow.

Depression

What is the point of living anymore? I have been rolling this question back and forth in my mind. I saw my daughter a few days ago. She was my only remaining possession, but she has fallen victim to the oppressive social order that controls this damned country.

I ask my followers, what can be done for a miserable specimen who has no worth or direction?

The pill bottle stares me in the face. It should be a nice little reprieve from this existence.

Note # 5

I arrived in New York to the smell of fire. A dense smog hung over the city that, from a distant, appropriately masked the unsightly evidence of warfare. It was my first time being in New York since the end of the war, but I was not surprised at the condition of the city. Buildings lay toppled, garbage clogged the cracked streets and walkways, and homeless men, women, and children were scattered in little communities. I guess I was thankful that I at least had a roof over my head, and that my daughter was not starving in the streets like so much of the populous.

Finally I found my way to the training barracks. The red, white, and black symbols that decorated the front entrance to the building eerily reminded me of my time in service. In the lobby, I was greeted by two armed men, who handed me a form and instructed me to wait until my number was called. It was like the god damn DMV.

Finally my number was called, and I followed one of the guards down a penitentiary like hall. There were rooms on each side of me, and through the small windows I could see the blank semblances of children around my daughter's age. At room 106, the guard said,

" You have five measly minutes, or she gets the hose. Your conversation is being recorded, too."

And there she was, my gorgeous daughter. Only her face was lifeless, bags engulfed her eyes, and her body appeared to be much thinner and frail.

"Hi honey," I said. No answer. And so I said it again.

"Who the fuck are you?" she proclaimed.

"Its your father Anne, it's me. I hope your joking, its only been a few weeks. How are you? How are they treating you here? Are you hungry?" I asked desperately.

She yelled back, "listen you old hag, I have no father, I have the Regime, and that is it!"

At that point the guard burst in, grabbed me under the arms, and forcefully ushered me out of the cell.

"You goddamn fool," he said. "We've already given her the eels and shes been dosing for a full week now, how can you be so ignorant? You're worthless to her, a meaningless specimen. Go home and recollect your sorrows. Revel in the goodness of Hasselhoff!"

And that was it. Right out of an exaggerated old school Hollywood movie, only it was real. Besides the drugs, they're employing brainwashing mechanisms now? Electric eel shock therapy?

I sat back in my car, and my heart sank. I reached for the glove box, took out the colorful pill bottle and masher, and ground up powerful dose. My only sanction. I adjusted myself forward, put my nose to the cold porcelain mortar, and violently inhaled the devil's medicine.

My beautiful daughter was gone, never to remember me. My heart palpitated as the rush coursed through all of my veins. My family has been annihilated. I am completely alone.

At the time, I was to far-gone for it to register.

Note #4

They allowed me to see my daughter today. The training facility is a three hour drive from my house. The long trip really gave me some time to reconcile my thoughts, and reflect upon the dynamics of my life. Why wasn't this tragic political and societal transformation forseen and prevented? What can be said about any notion of democratic sustainability when greediness ultimately prevails?

The State controls everything now, and with a lead fist. I can remember making the same drive into what was New York at the time, some fifteen years ago. The long stretches of forest and grassland accompanied by town and city- a true mark of freedom and the oppertunity to live peacefully.

The scenery now is that of the Great Depression, an awful, modernized one, at least. Towns and cities destroyed, familial entities torn apart, and certainly no chance at starting a business or accruing any type of wealth. Your property is the State's property. You don't produce for your family, you produce for the State, and the State redistributes. You don't fight for freedom, you fight for the State, for the ruthless bastards who mush your brain with Aderall, dehumanize you, and then compensate by destroying your family and your life.

Note # 3: 2-6-2082

I apologize dearly for my dormant blogging. I have spent the last week in an anger induced depression. On Thursday, they came to take my daughter. I guess I knew it could happen, the propaganda was all over the television, I just didn't think they'd do it to me. They label it as a youth development program, but its bullshit.

The reality is an inhumane attempt to establish a super army through supreme exploitation. The Republican Regime has ruined familial ties in this once great country.