Post #107
The Mistakes of Our Lives.
They linger with us far longer than we would deem reasonable.
As mentioned in the previous article, I used to be Albert.
And I still couldn't care less whether you believe this shit or not.
In my previous life, I most likely experienced existence as a Vietnamese woman.
A bomb disposal expert from that turbulent era someone who must have died sometime around 1976. Furthermore, when I was a four-year-old child, I had a dream in which I had to defuse a bomb.
This bomb was fitted with a time fuse that had to be disarmed using a pair of pliers. In the dream, I cut the wire and realized I had made a mistake. This error forced me to flee frantically across a wooden walkway, with an Asian river landscape stretching out behind me. Yet, the nature of the walkway seemed to stretch out my escape so interminably...
...that the bomb exploded behind me, and my dream came to an end.
As a little boy, I was terrified by the images that came rushing through my consciousness.
I immediately ran into the kitchen, where my family members were sitting at the table and were forced to listen to me. Being such a small boy, I couldn't explain exactly what had happened behind me in the dream. I could only describe the river landscape, the walkway, and that massive wave of fire.
As I have since discovered in my current life, Albert found himself in a situation that led him to sign a petition regarding the atomic bomb.
That decision much like his abandonment of his soulmate, Mileva was a monumental mistake. He thereby became, in effect, a soldier of the U.S. government. He bore a share of the responsibility for that bomb.
In short, Albert had helped drive forward the development of the atomic bomb.
Consequently viewed through the lens of the "rules" governing the next dimension he was required to live out a subsequent human life that was the exact opposite of his previous one. This pattern of "opposites" is the defining characteristic of the next habitable dimension.
Now, he was no longer a man but a woman. He was no longer working on creating a bomb, but rather on disarming one. The A-bomb hadn't killed him. But *this* bomb did.
He didn't live a European life, but an Asian one specifically, that of a woman who barely made it to the age of twenty.
Now, one might assume that the debt of guilt in Albert’s life had been fully repaid. But that is not the case.
I learned this through my troll buddies.
They sent me a bunch of stuff about Albert and about all the filth I’ve been mired in for months now.
Albert’s third and final son was the one who finally brought everything to light.
Now I finally know why I don’t want to have children.
Eduard wanted to become a psychiatrist and was studying to do so.
His idol was Freud he even had a portrait of him hanging above his bed.
He was a talented young man who played music and loved literature. But then, he developed severe schizophrenia.
Albert had already left and he stayed gone; he had made his mark on the world and wanted nothing more to do with his family.
Honestly, given how much all of this triggers me, carry fore sure responsibility for the chaos inside his head.
Mileva looked after Eduard with great care and devotion right up until the very end.
Albert gave Mileva the money from his Nobel Prize, hoping to absolve himself of some of his guilt.
But that was yet another mistake one that I intended to address and rectify in this lifetime. I wanted to give money to a certain person in order to alleviate her apparent "suffering."
But what, then, becomes of a man who abandons his son to chase after fame?
He becomes a lonely man who ends up having to care for his own schizophrenic mother.
Eduard had to spend thirty years locked away in a madhouse.
Well that, it turns out, is simply how the fucking rulebook of the next dimension works.
They linger with us far longer than we would deem reasonable.
As mentioned in the previous article, I used to be Albert.
And I still couldn't care less whether you believe this shit or not.
In my previous life, I most likely experienced existence as a Vietnamese woman.
A bomb disposal expert from that turbulent era someone who must have died sometime around 1976. Furthermore, when I was a four-year-old child, I had a dream in which I had to defuse a bomb.
This bomb was fitted with a time fuse that had to be disarmed using a pair of pliers. In the dream, I cut the wire and realized I had made a mistake. This error forced me to flee frantically across a wooden walkway, with an Asian river landscape stretching out behind me. Yet, the nature of the walkway seemed to stretch out my escape so interminably...
...that the bomb exploded behind me, and my dream came to an end.
As a little boy, I was terrified by the images that came rushing through my consciousness.
I immediately ran into the kitchen, where my family members were sitting at the table and were forced to listen to me. Being such a small boy, I couldn't explain exactly what had happened behind me in the dream. I could only describe the river landscape, the walkway, and that massive wave of fire.
As I have since discovered in my current life, Albert found himself in a situation that led him to sign a petition regarding the atomic bomb.
That decision much like his abandonment of his soulmate, Mileva was a monumental mistake. He thereby became, in effect, a soldier of the U.S. government. He bore a share of the responsibility for that bomb.
In short, Albert had helped drive forward the development of the atomic bomb.
Consequently viewed through the lens of the "rules" governing the next dimension he was required to live out a subsequent human life that was the exact opposite of his previous one. This pattern of "opposites" is the defining characteristic of the next habitable dimension.
Now, he was no longer a man but a woman. He was no longer working on creating a bomb, but rather on disarming one. The A-bomb hadn't killed him. But *this* bomb did.
He didn't live a European life, but an Asian one specifically, that of a woman who barely made it to the age of twenty.
Now, one might assume that the debt of guilt in Albert’s life had been fully repaid. But that is not the case.
I learned this through my troll buddies.
They sent me a bunch of stuff about Albert and about all the filth I’ve been mired in for months now.
Albert’s third and final son was the one who finally brought everything to light.
Now I finally know why I don’t want to have children.
Eduard wanted to become a psychiatrist and was studying to do so.
His idol was Freud he even had a portrait of him hanging above his bed.
He was a talented young man who played music and loved literature. But then, he developed severe schizophrenia.
Albert had already left and he stayed gone; he had made his mark on the world and wanted nothing more to do with his family.
Honestly, given how much all of this triggers me, carry fore sure responsibility for the chaos inside his head.
Mileva looked after Eduard with great care and devotion right up until the very end.
Albert gave Mileva the money from his Nobel Prize, hoping to absolve himself of some of his guilt.
But that was yet another mistake one that I intended to address and rectify in this lifetime. I wanted to give money to a certain person in order to alleviate her apparent "suffering."
But what, then, becomes of a man who abandons his son to chase after fame?
He becomes a lonely man who ends up having to care for his own schizophrenic mother.
Eduard had to spend thirty years locked away in a madhouse.
Well that, it turns out, is simply how the fucking rulebook of the next dimension works.
