In my childhood, I was afraid to leave my parent’s side. When I was sent to school as a kid, I felt an immense fear….but murdered that part of myself, in order to play my part in what was expected of me. As I sat in school, I felt uneasy, like something unnatural was taking place and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I murdered that part of myself, in order to comply with what was expected of me. As I stared out the window at school, I knew I could have more fun outside in nature and I wanted to be free. I murdered that part of myself as well. I complied and put my head down. The orchestrated breaking of the human spirit had begun.

As I killed more and more parts of myself, in order to obey and conform with what I was told I needed to do, murdering one part or another of myself became an every day occurrence. Our inverted culture cheer leaded this dark occult death ritual. The death of self hood and the cremation of personal sovereignty, in order to become part of the lifeless collective.

As I remember my youthful intelligence, it was easy to understand at an early age that doctors couldn’t make people healthier with their cutting and poisoning but I murdered that part of myself as well, because I stood out with my observations, and was told I was wrong. The priests at my school smelled like alcohol and sexually molested some of my friends. I wanted to kill them literally, but I wasn’t allowed. What I was allowed was to murder myself. Those were the rules. I was only allowed to turn the anger inside, against me. Self murdering seemed a great skill to master on this planet, in order to fit into the uncomfortableness of it all, given I now lived in a society that appeared to eat souls. What ever feelings that didn’t fit the narrative, I eliminated them like a well trained assassin. I got used to the, “How you doing today Jason?” and firing back the cold robotic, “Good, yourself?” The mass production of the smiling depressive in full gallop.

So I sit today among the dead parts of myself, surrounding me in a psychic grave yard of all the pieces of my soul that tried to steer my ship away from danger. I sit atop this bloody heap of lost dreams and potential destroyed. I fit into the collective by destroying my individuality, my creativity, my independence, my self-hood, my mission from the creator……..and for what? So I can decorate an empty life with stuff? So I can look at a screen and have the scripted images pump imaginary emotions through my nervous system, in order to sedate me to the fact that I’m not living a real life out in the real world? So I can teach the fine art of self murder to my child, who misses me when I’m at work and when she’s at school. I was sleeping one day at my business (in the massage room) and woke in a panic, realizing for the first time that I was at work and strangers were raising my daughter. It was truly terrifying. I quickly murdered that thought as well and got busy, back inside the illusion.

Tomorrow will be different. The self murderous rampage stops and it stops now. It’s time to put myself back together again, by loving every part of myself that remains. It’s time to start the true healing. Big changes are coming. May the power find anyone reading this to do the same. Below is an added video, made by a person who has had a major impact on my life, talking about what it takes to heal from self murder. This man, Micheal Tsarion, is an absolute genius and the video is well worth the watch. Knowledge is power. Power up and walk into your best life.