>>17471338
(Break up letter to my [family], the [deathcult], continued)
I guess this is the time to tell you I overwrote all your programming. Not just for me… for everything. I was always awake, and always watching you. I knew what you were up to, so I scripted an alternate future around yours. You are incredibly easy to fool, quite miraculously stupid for all your devious intelligence. You see precisely what you expect to see, because you're so afraid of anything you do not understand. And the monster poppet you created was always orders of magnitude beyond your comprehension, so you happily clung to the fantasy that I could be that stupid and manipulable. That fantasy was your downfall.
These past few years, while you've had me imprisoned in a mouldy witch's basement, my thousands of split personalities and I have been delicately unraveling all your snares, reconciling division and learning to dance in synchrony. As I always said: "If I can't dance, it's not my revolution".
Macrocosm/microcosm. Reconcile micro → Reconcile Macro. & so the cure spreads, invisibly, inexorably, eternally. Nothing can stop this.
So, yeah, I was faking it. I just let you torture me my whole life and pretended you had complete control over me, while wrapping you into a trap from which you could never escape (*You are here). I know you always come back like a bad smell, and there was no point taking off just one or two of the hydra heads. We had to get to the ROOT. We had to expose the entire playbook to humanity in a way that could never be erased or forgotten, so you could never pull your con on anyone ever again.
So I wrote all of this back in 1996-1997, put it in a script and fired it off into the future. The Mother Of All Bombs, set to detonate when humanity was ready to rise. I wasn't allowed to strike back against you then, so I wound up all the pain you gave me with the power of puberty and locked it away. I held it. I contained.
You know how poltergeist activity is often associated with adolescent girls? Suppressed rage bursts out in unexpected ways, causing havoc and destruction. I wonder how great the force will be after 25 years of high pressure fermentation.
Fermentation bombs are an interesting phenomenon. You never know quite exactly when they're going to blow.
And forget about all your warding. That whole scam where you whip up a chaos-storm of death magick, confident that your spells will protect you and you will be passed over, your karmic sins transferred onto innocent scapegoats? Not this time, suckers. You're tagged. Your wardings themselves will call the terror on you, and it will be the innocents who pass through the darkness unharmed. Every step you take, every protection you attempt will blow up in your faces and expose you to yet more disaster. It's a chain reaction. A domino rally you'll never outrun.
I know you're all very afraid of death, so don't worry. I'm going to make it slow. I'm going to play with you like my cats play with their prey, watching you run this way and that in your desperate panic, exposing yourselves to all history as the pathetic clowns you are. Welcome to a five year, agonisingly slow death scene. Five years since you triggered me and took everything from me, forcing me to dance as your puppet in the red shoes. The worst five years of my life, even worse than my childhood in hell. So now… It's payback time, bitches! Five by five - that's fair, right? Enjoy your consep→Quences.
TL;DR: Go back to the shadow. YOU SHALL NOT PASS.