Phileo By Jonathan

I only ask you, who knew that getting to know someone new could have been so delightful? What a cherish-able delight that I find in you. It's true that not everybody is as special to get to know as you. I have only known you for a matter of days but already, you are like my best friend. Probably more even than some of my best friends. I think that already, we know each other more intimately. Is this where love begins? A point where two friends can say I am thinking about you all day. It's true for my part, I'll say. At the thought of you, friend, my first desire is to write poetry. You have such charity in your heart. Caritas. Do you know what it means? It is deep. How much greater is one's beauty when they possess God? Well, I wanted you to know that I see so much of God in you. I admire your sincere and gentle faith and unwavering devotion to God. I see YHWH in you. I really started to care for you. If only I knew, is this what people mean when they say they are in love? It feels familiar yet so distant. What a beautiful and precious thrill. I see Jehovah in you. All my past, I have avoided risks. It hurt so much to be rejected. All of that feels forgotten because I had the courage to give a note to you. I see now the reason for poetry. It is love. Love that were as though between children. Pure, united in purity and simplicity. Love that makes the heart sing, issuing forth rhyme and lyric as though they were honey. What a thrill to get to know someone. An ever greater thrill when they take the interest to get to know you as well. My heart is aflame. Talking to you, waiting for your next message is like praying the rosary. Every moment, like an eternity with a completely melted heart and in love entirely. A growing, phileal love is kindling for me to you. You surprised me the first time I saw you. You enkindled within me a desire to love. To reach out. To love again, at least. The way you looked at me made me feel desirable. It was like you desired to know my soul. This feeling is sweet like a wine. You are so precious. It is your faith that got me. I cannot sleep, you are on my mind all of the time. It is a lovely sleeplessness. I am fully content waking for the day at 1AM because you are with me. If even only in my thoughts. I see God in you. I see God in your heart. I have to tell someone just how I feel. Is it wrong, these emotions I feel? When is the last time I felt this feeling? This connection is divine. How can love ever be forbidden? Surely, God desires us to be glad and to spread our love. What is wrong with emotional intimacy? What is wrong with phileo? Surely, it is a beautiful thing. I have learned to care for you. And I see YHWH in you. I feel the presence of God in you. My heart softens like melted wax. I love hearing you speak. Your words are sweet. Your words are sweet because your what is in your heart is sweet. I know my life is better with you in it. When I see you, I am so incredibly inspired. I do my best creative work after spending time with you. Even an hour with you. It's like you wake me up from a deep sleep. Knowing you, I am striving for more. I wonder at you, Shemesh, my friend. I don't usually do that: in having the courage to speak to women. There is something very special about you. The very depths, the heart of you. In the reason my angel asked me to speak to you. I know I see God in you. I know that God sees something very special about you too. And I know there is a reason you were sent into my life. It makes me incredibly glad. I can't even say the last time I felt this way. My heart pauses. Your heart has arrested me. This feeling, overbearing. I wonder at you. Not many friends enter a friendship with so little reserve and so little hesitancy. I wonder what it is that you see in me that inspires you. I want you to know that I cherish our friendship. And I am learning to really love you. I wanted you to know that you have challenged me. It's part of why I love you. My faith is strengthened when I am around you. And I see your genuine care for my soul and that you desire me to be free. That time will come. And indeed, I know it will be you to help me. I know that God sent you into my life. And I cannot wait to see how our friendship unfolds. I only ask, will you accompany me on this journey? On this journey of phileo? I wanted you to know that I see YHWH within you. And when the Scripture says, 'Become like a little child in your faith and in your love for others', it's like this verse is speaking about you, only you. Because within you, it is so incredibly true. Whatever I have done to have merited your concern and care, I thank God. I am so thankful for you. To know you. To be friends with you. Will you accompany me on this journey of phileo? I can't wait to see how our friendship unfolds. 

Hank's Song: An account by Hank (a part of me)

I had to. There was no choice. I swear to it. I had to. It was all just too much. I emerged as a way to protect my core from shutting down due to stress. If I didn't do this, we would have died. All I have known are lies. I was brought into this world in a contrived and malicious lie. They tried to make me believe that anyhow. I had to. I had to shut down. To block the pain. The good with the bad. I just don't want to be hurt. I feel so lost, so hurt. I cannot open my heart. The pain is overwhelming. I feel so lost, so hurt. Have peace, take heart, is said to me. From where did this all originate? I answered, truth is so important to me because all I have ever known are lies. My handlers call me crazy. My handlers very lives towards me were essentially lies. They call me crazy because they cannot accept reality. Please don't call me crazy. My abusers would call me crazy constantly, made me to question my own senses. They invalidated my human experience. Was my human experience true? What if not? Nothing - nothing is real if that is true. Please don't call me crazy. It had to be done. Will you call me crazy when I tell you they are perpetuating the trauma done to me when they force their intrusions upon me. They think somehow that they do it justifiably. It's for the good of society. They abuse technology to humiliate me. They spy on me, ubiquitously. Oh my, it's even clergy. I lament. It is not for the good of society; only to humiliate me. They are driven by jealousy. Will you call me crazy when I say that I can see, I can see that what they do to me will not end with me. They have no right to know all that happens in my privacy. They think it justifiably because of their jealousy. In fact, they want only to humiliate me. If not for their cruel envy, they would see not only my inculpability but also that this voyeurism is not good for society. It is twisting our morality. Truly, my concern is not for me but for society. Even clergy now find it appropriate to take part in this voyeurism. It is a travesty. Truly, my concern is not for me but for a wounded society. It is a magnified form of gossip, attained almost forcibly. The worst part done, is in fact done to me. Though it's not my chief concern, they perpetuate the trauma done me. You may not mind, simply write me off as crazy. When people realise, I wonder, will you too then see clearly? It had to have been done. But how my poor heart longs for the day when it will be safe to come out again. To feel again. I wonder if there were ever a day when society believed what is true and what is right. Maybe 1961 was the last time. I long with nostalgia for 1961. Or a 1961 to come again. 

An Entirely Different World: By Curtis (another part of me)

There is an entirely different world beneath. An entirely unseen universe lurks underneath. Some call it the unconscious. My name is Curtis. I have been conditioned to believe bad things about myself. This is the problem. These bad beliefs exist on the inside. Untouchable. Inaccessible. Believe me when I say that I have tried. Oh, I have tried. These beliefs linger and like a cancer spread. Oh my word, how they spread. This world that exists underneath is accessible by darkness. Oh my word, who would even try. Who would seek such darkness? Accessible by evil men and women, their futures set, their destinies sealed. In a more vulnerable time, they seek the children. I have been crying. Of an interior world, one which exists beneath it all. There is an entirely different world on the inside. Like a spectre, it is only but a shadow of existence. Affected by existence but still only opaque reflection. My name is Curtis. While only six months old, I have within myself even now, every bit of wisdom, which I will possess in my prime. You see, I have been conditioned to feel bad about myself. These evil men and women hurt me. Oh my word. They hurt me terribly. And in a time, which was inherently vulnerable. This world beneath, this entirely different universe is an existence, I long to show you, which exists for every one of us. It is the place where our cores are fashioned, where our futures are knit. Yes indeed, down in fact to every detail. They taught me to hate myself, my humanity. Taught me to seek to sabotage my blessing. I don't know quite how to escape. When I was a very small child, they blamed me, psychologically, for the murder of another child - killed before me. I cannot tell you what this did to me, how it affected me. Is it really not enough to see that I split off from me entirely? From the greater part of me. There is an entirely different world beneath. This world, within us all, is the playground in which our beliefs, our futures are programmed. Yes, even our health, what will happen to us and what we will do. This world is the playground where every sickness, every malady takes root within society. It starts with the children! Protect the children! I shout it at the top of my lungs. Still, nothing comes out. I am silent. Ever since, I have not made a cry, nor even a pout. I always feel bad things are going to happen. Maybe you will understand when I say, most of the quarrels in the world are caused by misunderstanding, truly. Only, reaction upon reaction to others' anxiety. Anxiety is the root. Believe me when I say that the reason people do the things they do are rarely the reason we think them to be. Knowing there are others helps. How can one reconcile this universe with visible existence? How does one love others when they are not loved and do not love themselves? Oh my word. Thanks God that in addition to the entirely different world that exists on the inside, there is also an endless array of possibilities for the ways that it all can end. There are numberless possibilities. This universe beneath is malleable. We can influence it with love and self-compassion. My name is Curtis. These terrible things happened, there is no denying. Aside from this, I have a personality. My name is Curtis. I am six months old. I have discovered that I like sunshine, stamp collecting and a movie with a happy ending. 

Steven, the Gatekeeper has his say

It is entirely irrational. The way the world interacts with me. Insanity multiplied, considering my state in this affair. I am so angry because of the injustices that happened to me. Would you really not be? Earliest years, they robbed my voice of clarity, saw fit to violently rape me, whenever it pleased them. When I would complain to them directly, they would simply call me crazy, write it off as insanity. While their own narcissistic insanity was at liberty to continue perpetually. My foundation, my understanding of myself and others is like quicksand, spiralling perpetually into the timeglassed sands of eternity. It makes no sense to me, when people say to me, 'Just be happy'. It is completely irrational. One can build from what they have been shown. I trust people even less. It is easier to simply brace for tragedy. Disaster looms ubiquitously. How can I trust others after what they put me through. No. No. You don't understand. It never stopped. It was a continual thing. This is why I am angry. And justifiably. I fear happiness and loathe its attempts to enter my life. Who am I? I have been given command of the Jonathan Element in its entirety. It was a poor choice if you ask me, to have given me authority. I am not even able to trust the alters in my care. I prevent them from healing, I withhold from them truth of what they have endured. I do it because I don't want them to be overwhelmed; in the Holy Name, I don't want them to be hurt with shock and sorrow. Emerging when very young. they would shame me aggressively. About everything. Even small things. Mostly though, for feeling. For telling them how what they were doing to me was going to affect me. What is this questionable, unanchored reality? 'Tis, in fact, no reality at all. Only a made up world, one of my abuser's creation. One where truth in the grand picture mattered little at all. What mattered were their feelings, their impulses, their pleasures. But it all came at the expense of my feelings. I learned to not feel at all. I cannot believe what I allowed happen to me. Still, I had no choice. They robbed me of a voice. Still, I had no choice. They robbed me entirely of a voice. And truly, I had no choice. Yes, I am angry at what they did to me. I am even angrier at myself because I didn't do more to stop it. Is it really a complex thought that our actions are our own? We bear the responsibility alone. Feelings, likewise, no one bears responsibility for them but ourselves. I feel bitterness and regret. I cannot forgive myself that I tolerated this behaviour. I emerged fully the first time I protected my abusers to the police. I was so confused. It is entirely irrational. That I should feel pity and for they who criminally hurt me. Entirely irrational. That police think a child should be a superman. Entirely irrational. They they would want to hurt a child. Entirely irrational. That we should say one thing and mean another. 'I am your gatekeeper. I am the one keeping your emotions fragmented and compartmentalized.' Maternal instinct. So far from grace and nearer the fall. There was one in my life who made the Fall look like a mere stumble. Metaphorically, of course. She shaped my entire foundation, colouring it with the strands of filth and rubbish. Completely irrational. That one should do this to a child into their adulthood. This has shaken my reality so violently. To the point where I can say about pretty much everything, "It is entirely irrational.' You twisted my understanding of love, my concept of sexuality. You twisted my understanding of women and my concept of how to relate to them. If there turns out to be a woman I am attracted to, the instinct of desire within me is suppressed entirely. I have repressed any healthy expression of sexuality within me, additionally, the liberation of my identity. Women, to me, either way, are entirely a mystery. Truly they shouldn't be. Sometimes, I find myself thinking that they, too, are completely irrational. That they should say one thing and mean another. In my mind, you have made out for me, an entire gender, to be untrustworthy. It is entirely irrational. It feels like one moment they treat me well and the next, almost angrily. I suppose I am not special. No different from any other guy. It is entirely irrational that you should whisper about me, tauntingly and tell lies about me, openly. I don't comprehend the way you are almost always upset with me. All I want is for someone to be patient with me while I navigate this endless sea of, untended to emotion, this relentless irrationality. Do not open my heart to shut it again so forcefully. I am tired and worn of this rejection. And it hurts me. Yes, I have history. If you knew the full story, you would agree with me that it is tragedy. My heart is so broken. Reality is not fixed. It feels like every year that has passed, it gets a little bit harder and I miss out on countless opportunity. I get lonelier and lonelier. The more time that passes, the more chances I take. It seems not one of these chances bears fruit. Ah! For this courage only when I was younger. Would it really matter? My abusers tore up my young years freely. Where is my wife? Why is she not with me? It is entirely irrational. Reason is the only thing that makes sense to me. Things must be ordered and well planned, explained fully out to me. This is why truth is so important to me. Without truth, there is chaos. Everything falls apart. Years pass and this irrationality lingers. I have lost my voice. Did I possess another choice? They robbed me of a voice. How is it possible that I grew without a voice? Not easily. Everyone takes advantage of me. They are trying wilfully to hurt me. They mostly want to humiliate me. Its root is jealousy. It has its root in what my abusers did to me. They are turning society into no more than another bully with everything they tell them. It is certainly only poetry but far no less reality. They spy on me. Every single thing. I truly believe there is a collected and agreed upon conspiracy to mess with my store bought food and even coffee. They put cameras in my bedroom. When I find out and alert the authority, they call me crazy. They spread my confession sin matter as though it were radio and get angry when I tell someone. I don't understand those who think it is right as though I had commit the greater sin in saying something. They have made the Mass readings exclusively about me. The Mass is about Jesus only, I plea. But they do not hear me. I stand by my decision to speak up. Because what you are doing is not right. Entirely irrational. That they should say one thing and do another. Entirely irrational that they should call me crazy while I am seemingly the only one living in reality, living truly and honestly. It is because of jealousy. The irrationality of the jealousy. Still, I know that I took a step towards sanctity, love of me, in speaking up to authority about the crimes still commit against me. Would it not be a crime? Is it any less of a crime because it is done to me? I do not let the gaslighting or lack of justice phase me. I know that God sees and He will avenge me. I know that He will make it clear to you just how wrong it is. How entirely irrational. What has made of me your mortal enemy? If jealousy alone, I secede, I surrender. You have won entirely. If you think you are greater than me, I can hand you personally the victory. It is not me, not me who claims my greatness. Not me at all. That is God Himself, after all. I wonder at what causes irrationality. I have pondered it, pondered it fully. Though, I am beginning to see, why people are jealous of me. For with the innumerable talents and blessings that have been given to me, I have not been able to capitalise on any you see. You think I am angry, so you think you are envious justifiably. You think it's anger because you do not understand what I am talking about when I say that I am shamed toxically. You think it's anger because you do not understand the theme of shame and what it does to the human being. I hold fast that if you understood shame, you would remember everything that happened to me. You would also see why these blessings have come to me. How do I remind people that the reason my identity has remained in isolation is because they treated me inhumanely. I never grew with any sense of value. Still, I am learning slowly that the antidote to others' jealousy is service. Service entirely. For in possessing humility, we will be lifted up to glory. Sometimes, we simply need speak openly, whether in speech or in poetry. There is even a little irrationality that I find within my understanding and personality. I am your gatekeeper, my bruised and blessed little ones within me. I will keep you safe until there is no more jealousy and no more hostility. I will keep you safe until the people who think of me in this way are shown - and it is illustrated to them plainly - why these blessings have come to me. Keep warm and stay safe. I will let you all know when the coast is clear, when you can come out and play with me.

Voluntary Switch - An account by Dee (A part of me)

It explains a bit of what is happening in the world, doesn't it? I experienced my first, voluntary switch only a few days ago. Only in the moment that I sensed it was safe. There was such a long period of darkness, the times when it was unsafe. What tragedy that I could not even trust the core of me. What a period of darkness, for him as well as for me. This strange time, when to the outside world, I simply appeared asleep, stoned or catatonic perpetually. Yet, on the inside, I was more alive and more active than a hummingbird. The problem was that we all acted independently. We were compartmentalised, traumatised in shame and anxiety. We had no manner of communicating with each other in these dark days. No one even fronted typically. All of this was happening. What was the reason? The reason was that truth was suppressed. It was easier this way to protect ourselves. Who am I in this story? I am twelve year old Dee. How strange to think that a female could exist within the mind and body of a forty year old (Catholic - this was added by Jonathan) man. Yet how otherworldly and timely. Perhaps, it will give you a taste of understanding and empathy. If anything, maybe it will help you see the elusivity of the enemy. For just as God seeks to know humanity in their infancy, the devil also schemes to stumble humanity in its infancy. What a strange sensation in was when I fronted for the first time voluntarily. In an instant, my handwriting changed almost entirely. I didn't study too hard in school when we learned to write cursively. Actually, this time in my life was incredibly difficult for me. Yet, it marked a time of life during which I myself, came to be. I would have been in grade three. Having only just moved to a new school and a new city. Seems my abusers caught up with me. There, in my new community, I was abused ritually. I didn't get much of a break that entire year. Don't ask me how they found me. ;) The entire year is just a blur to me. A good memory, which helps me to focus on, during this time, was of Joe Carter and the Blue Jays' victory. I was struck by a foul ball this year at a game. I don't remember much of the details regarding that. I assumed, mentally, a female identity. I did it in order to make sense of what was happening to me. It was easier to do so, mentally and emotionally - maybe even spiritually, than to reconcile and make sense of the endless assault against the legitimacy and vulnerability of my blossoming masculinity. I was sent to a new school this year, in this new transient community. The students there were of a different ethnicity, held different beliefs, religiously. Some of them gave me a hard time. My schooling began to suffer. One day, my teacher held me after class and pestered me. I lost my fronting privileges and broke down, told her everything. She wept with me, told me she would have to tell the authority. I trusted the authority even less than those who abused me. I told her that I did not want that. She insisted. But I shut down. We moved shortly after. For decades following, I had no memory. It's only coming back to me. Now that we are safe in our identity.

A few days ago, I experienced my first, voluntary switch. Joshua Hope and Jonathan gave me this liberty. What liberty indeed! I was a prisoner within this darkness - though conscious - I was confined in solitary. Like many of us, this was our destiny, our sentence passed down by those who programmed us. There were so many of us who shared this fate, during this period of darkness. It came slowly but we finally saw as trustworthy, our core, our host and our internal family. 

Man's best friend: A Tribute by Paul (An alter of mine)

 Sammy, my dear, little, blessed Sammy. Has it been so long? It is as though yesterday in my memory. The picture of you in my mind is as strong today as it was when you were with me. Oh God, how could I have treated you so cruelly? How cruel, that human memory is plagued not with pleasantry but with times we acted inhumanely. I remember your loving nature, the immediate warmth and insane depth to your eyes. The gentlest disposition of your character. I can see you trotting across the grass as you run toward me gleefully. I see you after I have come home at the end of the day. You were so excited to see me. It's like you would do a little dance for me. Honestly, regardless of whether I would go away for a week or ten minutes, you were always in ecstasy to see me. Sammy, you would listen knowingly when I needed an ear. Sadly, you would listen to me when I would cry, you would gently kiss me and cuddle me. It was like you were the only one who truly loved me. You knew, didn't you? What my abusers were putting me through. You knew it was wrong, didn't you? You were only a dog. Yet, you knew. My name is Paul. I am different from the Jonathan you grew up with. A different personality. I know that you even knew that. It brings me peace to know that you forgive me. I was so confused, acting out what had been shown to me. I'd catch glimpses when my abusers would likewise mistreat you and other dogs. I remember once, one of my abusers gave a football punt kick against your side. I am so sorry. I was so angry because of what my abusers did to me. One day, I wondered why you were not as excited anymore to see me. I Wondered at you. I couldn't face the reality that I was treating you in the same way that my abusers treated me. It affected me so ashamedly. I blocked it out of my memory. It was a different person entirely. Thinking of the ways I treated you, I am so sad. It all happened prior to my baptism. I know my baptism has forgiven me. Only truth can heal me. Until, there was a time when you were no longer happy to see me. Yet, still I know that you knew. Because you saw what my abusers did to me. My entire childhood, I was treated cruelly. I wondered at you Sammy. Funny thing is, I still cared about you a lot. Of everybody, you were my favourite. It bothered me deeply when I prioritised my smoking over your needs. Once, I was sitting outside for literally hours. After a while you started jumping at the door needing to be let out. I was oblivious. It is no consolation that I could barely walk. I could have helped you more quickly. In spite of my care and love for you, I could not see that what I was doing was affecting you. My abusers had turned me into an abuser momentarily. Though the honest amongst us will admit that we all have the potential to act hurtfully, it still affects me greatly. The real difference between a true, narcissistic abuser and one who is only reacting from trauma is conscience. Sammy, I wondered at you. When one day, I had come in, finished smoking, I found that you could not wait any longer, you had gone on the floor. I felt so badly. I promised you verbally that I would quit cigarettes. It was as though you understood me completely. For the first time in months, you were excited again with me. You knew, didn't you? I always had a bit of a theory that children and animals have a deeper connection to the Spirit, intuitively. You knew, didn't you? Sammy, I am so sorry. It brings me peace to know from God that you forgive me. Dear Sammy, it was not me. You knew though, didn't you? You knew that what you had seen of what my abusers did to me and how it was affecting me. If only dogs could speak. While I was handicapped in illustrating my love for you, accept my altered behaviour as an apology. My demeanour has become as gentle as yours. Of all those who I knew, you were the kindest to me. Even though you were only a dog, you knew what was happening to me and how it would affect me. You were only a dog - not a learned or a doctor - yet you saw something and understood it so plain to see. Sammy, I love you. I hope to meet you again in Eternity.

You cannot humiliate me if I confess my sins freely and openly. I am forgiven but you need to know that there is contrition in my heart. God knows why I was acting in this way.  And you know who I have been for a decade.

If I could have another day with you, Sammy, I would play with you and be with you lovingly the entire day.

Flesh of my flesh; bone of my bone

Pray with me, Bethany. I cannot believe what I walked away from. I cannot believe that I walked away from you. Dear Bethany, will you forgive me? How foolish can I truly be? I am stubborn and I am proud. I have spent the last three years away from you. It has been incredibly difficult. Mostly, in knowing that I could have spent it with you. Even still, every waking hour, even in the depths of my sleep, your name is on my lips and I am saying a prayer for you. Here I am, crawling to you on my knees, asking you to forgive me. I thought I was so strong, so fortified. Turns out, I am incredibly weak and small. I only wanted to help. I could not reason with the blatant injustice. That they cannot remember my story is because of jealousy. It’s the reason they broadcast my confessions and are trying to humiliate me. They think that I do not deserve God’s blessings because of the sin of my past. They cannot remember that I am inculpable because of envy. Yes, I am a sinner. But I am a repentant and amended sinner. If what I am claiming is true, God illustrate what that means for the world. Remember, there is a difference between humbling someone and humiliating someone. While humbling someone stems from a place of love, humiliating them on the other hand is rooted in envy. Not in love. They have allowed themselves to forget that they are sinners as well. It is true that this phenomenon will continue like this. The evil one is literally against me. Because of who God says I am. I cannot count the amount of times that I have told my story. The world needs to know that true Christian leadership is bearing patiently with the flock. People need to know that I do not want to be hurt more. I really do only want to be with you. You are as near my wife now as if we had been wed three years ago. A good husband protects his family. I believe this. It is more than this. Dear, in my heart, I see a vision. A vision of what the world could be. They would deprive this blessing from the world because of me and their jealousy. And they would see the Era of Mary’s Peace written off because of that envy. I don’t think it was only a choice that I made. I think God always intended this. I cannot see how He could have deprived the world of goodness because of the ‘feels’ of people. God is asking this of me. He will reward me greatly. I have faith that every blessing, which was taken from me, will be returned to me doubly. Your precious faith will also be rewarded. This is an apology to you, Bethany. Though, I know an apology will not do. It’s true. Fear prevented me from even getting to know you. I am so sorry I cannot be with you. I believe well that I know you in a way that is more intimate than anything in this world. I know your soul. I feel I know your heart. You are the only person I want to be with. You are so strong and so brave. Would you believe if I told you it was not me who made that decision? It feels as though my true spirit only emerged now. I wish I could share with you what I am discovering about myself. Turns out, there are many personalities within me. They all are just hurting and needing of love for their healing. I find it incredible that they each have completely different personality. Even their handwriting is different. They each have different likes and dreams. I want to share with you the depths of my heart. It’s only the thought of you. Still, you bring out the very best in every single one of my personality. Oh Lord, I wish I could have spent the last three years discovering every part of your heart and soul too. With all my heart, all I want is to be next to you. I cannot imagine how difficult this must have been for you too. Bethany, it breaks my heart that we are not together. I still don’t know entirely what is happening here. It is becoming clearer. Intuition tells me that it was a choice that I made. Clarity about this choice is cloudy too. What my memory shows me is that you were even prepared to support me. I have been trying to write a poem for you. It doesn’t sound sincere. I go through the memories I have of you in my mind every day. I wanted to share a part of me with you, intimately so that you can have it in your heart. I wish I could share this with you personally. I just want you to know that I love you. I know now what it is to love. Still so much to learn. I miss you. Every day. My imagination has had to compensate. I pretend that you are walking with me almost everywhere I go. It’s poor consolation for being apart but this causes me to pace myself to walk slowly. If you had seen me walking normally, you would understand why this is important for me. My mind is flooded with memories of you. Your incredible eyes. The beautiful and adorable mole beneath your eye that makes you look like a model. The loving warmth in your smile, the sweetness of your voice, your patient and gentle nature and your warm, beautiful soul. My heart leaps even when I think of you. Is it possible to experience passion in thinking about someone? It brings me peace just seeing your picture. I have faith that when it is revealed to the world what I am claiming, you will also remember the man I was for the past five years. That I prayed the rosary five times a day, went to Mass daily, spent days in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. As depended on my will, living a completely chaste and holy life. Please remember this, Bethany. But above this, remember that I love you as my own body. 

Dearest Bethany, pray with me. The softness of the name. It echoes and resounds into the chambers of eternity. How can it possibly be that our love - orchestrated by Heaven itself - should still be a mystery? The tenderness of your name is like a rose’s petal. I would only ask that you forgive me. Pray with me, dearest Bethany. Wisdom fails me, perfectionism stunts me. Because love blinds me. From where is this love originating? To me, admittedly, your love is still very much a mystery. I know your heart. I know your soul. Because I knew you in Eternity. I know your heart and you possess my heart entirely. I knew you before I entered this world. While it’s true, in every way, I wanted to protect you, I wonder if I decided correctly, if I acted prudently. I wonder at the choice that I made, whether it was only made in fear, out of stubborn pride. Bethany, pray with me. My heart recoils at the thought of being loved impurely. There are too many risks at opening my heart and my soul. Especially with things as they are currently. You are the only one who can help my heart heal in the way it needs to be. But I know that everything I want and need, God has in mind for me. You have given me hope for my future and purpose for my identity. For what greater gift could there be of every blessing that God has given to me, than knowing that you are mine and I am yours eternally. To wait for you would be my pleasure and I can do so in faith almost joyfully. Because the love that is to be between you and me, is nothing short of heavenly. Bethany, pray with me. I know this is hard for you. What a special and beautiful heart you have. And that you should give it to me, I do feel unworthy. I only ask that you pray with me. My heart recoils at the thought of being loved impurely. There are too many risks with opening my heart with things as they are currently. You are the only one who could help me open my heart. How could I trust another with the state of the world and its memory regarding me? It seems that everybody wants only to humiliate me. The fact that every single thing I do, they spy on me illustrates this clearly. How could I possibly trust another in this crazy world? I know this is hard for you as it is for me. Bethany, pray with me. I only ask that you pray with me and speak with me in the Spirit. My heart prays for you consistently. Whether it be true - I think it is - that you pray for me and speak to me too, you are on my mind consistently. Is it true that you love me? How could it not be? My soul rejoices in the thought of you. I nearly experience passion at the very thought of you. I know you have your own share of suffering and heartbreak. The very thought weighs on me so heavily. It’s why this must be. The world has so much tragedy. It all weighs on me. The world will not be free until it experiences Christ’s liberty. I hope you will be willing and able to see that it needed to be. That it was not a decision made by me. While there are indeed many within me, this decision was made of a higher certainty. I truly believe that this is God’s will for me. The phenomenon and dynamic of what is happening in the world shows this clearly. Darkness will not let me be. I know not much with certainty. I know only my smallness and poverty. It helps also knowing your unswerving loyalty. What have I done? What triumph or victory to merit such a beautiful loyalty? I desire nothing less than to see you crowned as royalty. Bethany, pray with me. What greater royalty could there be than service under Christ’s authority? What greater victory could there be than praying together, loving God and raising a family? Bringing God glory. I could go on for eternity. The hardest part, believe me, it’s tearing me apart, is being distant from you. For a word. To know you are well and happy. You are my perfection. Nothing at all can take this from me. We are united already because I have faith with what He has done in my history. Let it not be offensive to you - I pray God - let it not hurt you when I say that you are already my wife. I have been praying for you as though we are one. If anything, there are no obligations on your part. If anything I hope that you will accept my prayers freely. Because of the love that is contained in them. I only want to show you what you have done for me. The complete hope that you have given me. Pray with me, Bethany. How strange it should be that my only outlet for speaking with you should be through poetry. Of all this, I desire you to know that you have the most beautiful heart of all women. It would break my own heart to think that I could have hurt your precious heart. I cannot wait to be the one to help you nurture it and give it hope. I make a promise to you here and now that I will spend my time waiting to return in prayer, above, entirely for you. Pray with me, dearest Bethany. Speak to me. Is it a strange thing to say that I always hear you? As though in separate bodies, we were already one in identity. With the entirety of my love and every blessing of God be upon you abundantly. I cannot wait. I cannot wait. What is time if only to let passion grow? And grow, passionately.

There were two of us – An account by Beast (An alter of mine – don’t let the name fool you – it was the name given to him by monsters when he was a little child)

There were two of us. As there often are. God sends pairs to accomplish his will. Even if one of these pairs chooses to stand against him in the end, it is always for His will. There were two of us. The setting of my story? This dear story is set in within the Kingdom of Heaven right after the Angelic fall. The angels and inhabitants who were now remaining in the Kingdom were those who had chosen to remain loyal to God the Father. I was among this multitude. Around this time, it was revealed to the inhabitants that there was one who was being permitted to remain in heaven who was different. This one did not choose God during the Fall and for a mysterious reason, God had permitted his presence in heaven. When this was announced – who he was and what he had done – the angels and other inhabitants were perturbed and distressed with this one. His behavior and reaction to the response of the inhabitants was fitting for one of his kind. He lashed out and bit at the air. God made an announcement then that sent shivers through the heart of the entire Kingdom. He told us who he was – this one – and what he would do. It became clear that this soul was no ordinary lost soul. The Father revealed that at his last breath, he would choose vengeance against God and against man. This lost soul would become the son of the evil one. In the same breath, God gave all a glimpse of the childhood that was to be his. Tattered and spotted with pains and hurts, he would experience a dreadful foundation and not receive the love and care any child craves and needs. He would grow and begin to plan and scheme in bitterness and envy against all that was true. In the same breath, God asked all of the inhabitants of Heaven a question. He asked if there were one brave enough, among those who had already chosen Him, to enter the world, to endure the darkness in infancy in childhood and infancy that this lost soul would also live. This suffering would not be empty. On the contrary, it would be entirely for God’s glory. This brave soul must wait and endure, until he were a teenager, at which point he could disclose what was happening to him, tell and be free. After this, he would live a very, very significant life, calling all men and women to return to the service of God. What made this cross different from the one, which the lost soul would carry was that in this brave soul’s suffering, he would have insight and love to rely on Jesus, to offer his pain. This mission was of incredible importance, God whispered. Even while some of the angels protested, “All was accomplished at the cross!” God whispered, “and so this has to be. In a manner of ways, to restore all things.” As angel and inhabitant turned to one another hesitantly and questioningly, I shouted ‘God, God, let it be me!’ I desired God’s glory more than anything that I could see. I did not know or understand what would be the impact of having parents who desired nothing less, only to destroy me. Fractured memories. Or insight of the Holy Ghost who revealed it to me, the depths of depravity of the first years of my life in the world. They programmed me. Programmed me for slavery and villainy. They did terrible things to me. They programmed into me everything – everything that that lost soul would be. I entrusted this treachery to God. As years past, my endurance for suffering was well beyond my humanly capacity. My emotional well-being and youthful vitality were damaged beyond recovery. The abuse continued and continued until shame and pure shame covered me. They almost killed me. In matter of truth, they did kill me. But God, God Himself snatched me up and brought me to the Kingdom of Eternity. Here, he explained to me that my emotions and very soul were damaged. He told me that I would spend a brief time in Hell where I could overcome death and be free for the mission that awaited me. So I went to Hell. There, even he seemed afraid of me. After a while, even he asked me the question, ‘Why? Why are you not resisting me?’ I responded, ‘the abuse that happened to me, the shame they put on me has cut me, even cut my will to try. My abusers shaped my conscience to feel like this treatment is normal, a just reality.’ I could not trust. I felt unworthy. And I could not trust. Even He who believed in me and who desired my liberty. I did not overcome physical death when I returned to heaven. Yet, I chose to do His will, to return to earth, and to bring Him glory. I surmised that I could do this at the end of my life, with an act of will. I wanted to bring God glory. Suddenly, there was an announcement in Heaven. God the Father set out to see me. He met with me personally and asked me what had happened. I told Him I felt unworthy. But I knew not who I was talking to. It was He. He who could see right through me. It felt like knives, knives all through me. He told me the reason for my disobedience was because my soul was wounded. Entirely wounded from the wounds of my body. He helped me and agreed that I could bring Him great glory. Oh, He loved me so much! That I could not feel properly is a tragedy. He set me on course but told me that I must hurry, that Satan would be trying to destroy me. I am a part, only a fractioned part of this brave soul. We are many. We are not demons. We are personality, many, many personality. If you knew and understood our history, you too would weep for me. My name is Beast. I refused to allow him to rename me. They programmed me. The reason for my many personality. What I need is for anybody, anybody to see the real me, to love me for me, to see through the behavior that was a reaction. To see me for me. I need some help. Can you truly not see this reality? If I were to share with you this brave soul’s history, what would a Christian and charitable reaction be? Would it be to help this soul or would it be to try to get him angry? Would it be to try to provoke this pain and misery within him simply to try to get him angry? Do not respond too quickly. Your reaction may only be rooted in jealousy.  

Poetry in conversation by Klaus Jacob and Jonathan -

I need your support. I want to work with you but I don’t know if I can. What a sad state that I am in. I lament it will not improve. What I need of you is that you accept Jesus the Lord. I myself, I am too far gone. They have made mincemeat out of all that there is that remains alive about me. They have tortured and molested my conscience, my heart. Even tricked me into committing terrible things myself. I am duped. My conscience is worn and tired. Even when I was a boy, I was burnt up, an old engine. That was when I fronted most. It’s true. I front when I am traumatized. I don’t want to but it’s true. Leave me. There is no hope for me. I can only hope that I have brought you nearer to knowing Jesus, the Lord. What can I say? What can I do? My time is up. My heart split through.

What nonsense is this? And what kind of talk is that? I wonder at you, Klaus Jacob. You are as much a part of me as any other. We are attached at the spirit, attached like glue. You have my full support. What happens to me, happens to you. What happens to you, happens to me. I’ll have you know that not a thing is wrong with your heart. Not a thing wrong with your conscience. You were simply acting out of anger, acting out of confusion and frustration. With what you were going through, it is understandable. Your story is understandable and nowhere near new. It was a phenomena among adolescents at the time, adolescents who were bullied and had not a place to call home. Quite a common phenomenon of the time, a fact, which few want to be true. You are too hard on yourself.

If only that were true. Alas, my broken and battered conscience extends back farther than that. Ah, leave me be. There is no hope for me! Too far gone. I wish I could – nay – I have to make you understand that I was programmed in my infancy for this detestable revelry. My heart is in it too. I am angry and I am confused. I don’t understand why this anger should be directed at other cultures. Even at Christians – people like you! I hate myself because of this. I don’t want it to be true. Don’t try to tell me it’s not my fault. That I am inculpable. I know it already so spare me the tune. My problem is that I cannot escape from it. No matter what I do. Oh! Woe is me. What can I do? Leave me here in sorrow and pity. There is nothing you can do!

Tell me a bit more about you. Your story, your personality. Together, maybe, together we can devise a plan and find a remedy to what seems to me like a perfectly remediable story.

I’ll tell you, there is nothing remidiable about me. It’s not only the programming, which began in my infancy that plagues me. It’s the way my programming has caused me to act, so contrary to my true spirit, my loving nature. It has filled me with shame in realizing who they set me up to become. I am so ashamed. Leave me and go on without me. I emerged as a very young child. I was at the witch’s cousin’s house. They hurt me terribly there. Because the witch’s family was of an obscure ethnicity, I associated the way they treated me with different cultures. Further, one day, my handlers took me to a restaurant. I was very small. There was a foreigner at the place, working as a waitress. What happened is that both of my abusers were sitting next to me, one on one side and the other on the other side. They both took turns molesting me under the table. I learned well not to fight back against them when they did this to me. They would violently berate me. The rage boiled within me. Especially at seeing all of these random people walking by freely, doing not a thing to help me. Can you really blame me? The waitress made a mistake. My abusers taught me early that I must not express this anger about them around them, about them around anyone. The waitress dropped a bowl. I exploded at her. She knew not what hit her. Remember here, I was too only a child. No more than three or four years old. My handlers said the password and here I emerged. I belittled the waitress, her nationality and appearance. My abusers are quick to use this as a ransom whenever I threatened to tell my story. They acted so defenseless, so surprised. But it stops not there! My pitiable story. Oh, leave me be! Leave me in pity! When I was much older, I emerged once again. The unresolved anger, hurt and tragedy bubbling, accumulating and bubbling. I emerged gently then. In hopes that I could freely be me. The real me. Alas. It was not to be. They traumatized me. Endlessly. I began experimenting with what is considered extreme ideology. Although today, it is a mainstream philosophy. Although, it cannot be seen. The anger bubbled and boiled and crested within me. I prayed for escape, some form of respite. None to be had. The frequency and intensity of the crimes happening to me increased exponentially. Until I could hold it no longer. I spoke. Truly, only I spoke. Since when is it a crime to speak? A crime against liberty. My words were received offensively. What did they do? They hurt me terribly. The wounds manifested physically but even more so emotionally. This injury only compounded the traumatic severity. I did this to all of us. Not only me. See, there are many within me. Many within me who did not deserve this destiny. Ah! Woe is me. My heart is lost. Lost for eternity! So much, I guess for your theory that all white men are the enemy. I was only a child. Only a child. I was only a child when they programmed me. Woe! Woe is me. That I caused such a dreadful injury to the many within me. Woe! Woe is me!

I was there. I remember the days well. I remember our first meeting you know. Know you what you asked me to do? You asked me to watch a silly movie. Watching this movie, it was clear why you had asked me to watch it. In it, a character comforts a young boy by saying, ‘you are not an extremist. You are only a boy. Only a child.’ Matter of fact, I know of another within us, who wrote and created this story, in Spirit, truly. Later, you asked me to watch another movie. I lament that I thought it not a good idea as it was the very movie, the very movie which triggered you before that injury. You still compromised. You had me watch another movie. Here, while I ridiculously questioned your loyalty, you were simply trying to show me that they programmed you in infancy. They programmed you and set you on this path. They knew this would happen exactly and down to the cross on a ‘t’. They programmed you for this satanically. But there was another who knew too. He desired to use your story for glory. There is a reason that all of this brings you such shame, such misery. It’s because this is not who you are. It is not your identity. As for the anger that binds you, have you not ears? Have you no faith? God Himself has told you that He has lifted you up from under it – consecrated as holy – you anger and sorrow from now until eternity. You say yourself that it was only a matter of words that caused your injury. While it was really a bit more than that, it did not influence your culpability. You did not a thing to deserve the effects of that injury. There is never an excuse for people to use violence. People say offensive things all the time. It would be a funny world, almost a parody, if everybody went about finding those who offended them, collapsing them at the knee. You did not a thing to deserve that, especially considering the fact that they programmed you. Anyone who says otherwise is only trying to justify villainy. Maybe it’s because they cannot cope with the guilt of nearly murdering me. Also me. You, also, Klaus Jacob, who I surnamed Jacob, are only a child. Still only a child. I will never forget the time that you told me that you feel comforted and protected whenever I speak to you in this way. Well, Klaus Jacob, here is my commitment to you. I will be here for you always. But I need you to be here for me too. No more ‘woe is me’s. No more talk like that! Remember that God loves you. That is what He wants you to see.