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.
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