View
17
Download
4
Category
Preview:
DESCRIPTION
A mystical and twisted story of another juvenile delinquent. 1988-2014
Citation preview
The Story of Pangur Agthaporus:Closer To Me Than My Jugular Vein
I tell you everything that is really nothing, and
nothing of what is everything. Do not be fooled by what I am
saying. Please listen carefully, try to hear what I am
saying with your heart. I have a story about a little boy
whose tranquil realm of thought, began to see the real world
as a soulless existence, which had to be overcome in any
external way possible. It was only until I discovered a
ritualization to which my service and praise, by discarding
sense-knowledge and action, fostered a consciousness of
unity with the absolute Being, and although this unity
cannot be perceived, it can be thought of more as a process,
which does not completely attain its goal in the present. My
everyday life began seeking short cuts to attaining such
altered states of mind to overcome the fear to the perpetual
pain and suffering I felt in my yearning to remember or
perhaps recapture this pure insight of tranquility of unity
with the absolute being. Which calls to every conscious to
be for yourselves what you are in yourselves- reasonable.
Pure insight is devoid of content, and it is rather the pure
vanishing of it; by the negative movement towards what is
negative to it and what is reasonable to its essence; and
this movement will eventually ferment a realization itself…
too well not be reasonable, which created a sort of naïve
consciousness that abhorred despotism, capitalism, and the
vanity in which the scapegoat culture of American life
prompted my mind and hearts inner most dissatisfaction. Both
the denial of my own pure insight and my naïve
consciousness: where to be in constant juxtaposition to each
other throughout my adolescent years.
For some reason or another I have a very vivid
recollection of my early childhood, although most Freudians
would say this is impossible. Those who follow his
predecessor, Jung, would postulate that such a mind is
subject to states that cannot be scientifically quantified
by the technologically profound methods in use today. More
precisely put, it is the dream-image inherent in Jung’s,
Confrontation with the Unconscious that can be-internalized-
in such that its interpretation of dreams facts is the way
in which one proceeds. Thus, it is the perspicacity (clarity
of vision or intellect which provides a deep understanding
and insight) of mine own dream-image’s interpretations that
have latently spilled my subconscious thoughts unto reality
itself, and perhaps if any psychologically diagnosed
‘normality’ is left in mine being it resembles a
schizothymic intuition. For I can remember my earliest
moments as a boy, even if they are deduced to a surrealistic
fantasia that is my life, as I know it to be.
That being said, I cannot fully explain to you how my
experiences are integrated into my everyday life,
experiences that are far beyond the visual and perceptual
world. My own confrontations with the unconscious have
spilled out into reality too many times to be ignored on
those peculiar experiences. But these experiences sacred me
and I tried to ignore them with drugs and alcohol I suppose
an introductory background too my life’ story is necessary
and must begin with some basic facets. I was born on April
15th 1988 in Greenland, New Hampshire to my mother Julie and
Father Richard. No son of any parents could ask for more
loving and devoted parents. Growing up in Greenland New
Hampshire, especially in the 1990’s was a wonderfully
beautiful childhood experience, as any son of New England
could ask for. Being a son of a doctor and nurse gave me so
many opportunities and while I excelled in many areas, I
felt that I could never live up to their expectations. My
mind was always elsewhere full of day-dreams and a vivid
imagination mixed with ADD always made me feel somewhat out
of place, not an outcast per say rather a stranger, as
though I didn’t belong. I did always feel at home in my
daydreams and imagination. I had an imaginary friend, early
in my years named zara or something with a Z I cannot
remember. When I entered kindergarten I acted and pretended
to be a dog. I was also held back in kindergarten and felt
even more like an outcast.
My childhood was normal I suppose, maybe a little
abnormal, but ontologically speaking it was quite profound.
Many summer days were spent at the beach, picking
blueberries in August, apple’s use to grow from the orchard
across the stonewall in back of our house, but they stopped
growing years ago. Not much else compares to the summer days
spent in New Hampshire’s beautiful pastoral landscape. It is
where where I feel alive with a certain sense of wanderlust
that which permeates my entire being. In the winters my
family would spend weekends skiing, ice-skating in Stratham
Park, or would travel abroad to escape the harshness of
January’s cold.
I attended a Montessori school in Stratham, which
resembles more of a farm then an institution of learning. I
loved the educational methods bestowed upon my early school
days, it especially catered to my ADD in visual approach to
hands on learning no grades you were responsible for you’re
learning. I was definitely sheltered attending the school
from kindergarten to 8th grade. While it lacked the
structure and discipline I so dearly needed, it made up for
in the curriculum and educational methods. So many
effervescent and love filled memories come from those halls
and playgrounds. Even more so growing up in Greenland,
always outside doing something or other.
Although it always seemed I was getting in trouble, in
one way or another and learned to use my boyish charm to my
advantage in the midst of reading Shakespearean works and 20
page papers in 7-8th grade. I will never escape my absolute
nerdiness from whence my love for learning there grew. Yet
even though life was so blissful back then, I can always
remember feeling so very alone, always standing apart from
everyone, I guess a feeling of being misunderstood even at
such a young age with love all around me. I only found peace
in my dream visions out of the night; they seemed like a
comet that fades out of sight. They provided me a comfort,
which I felt a yearning to be elsewhere, and of not
belonging I found this yearning was healed by my dreams, in
which vivid world’s came into being. Vision’s that would
take many days and nights to explain.
Each night, shortly after my head hit the pillow I
tried to find you loving me. But you seemed so far away it’s
only in my dreams. Your kiss would be my heavenly bliss, and
I hoped you would be near to me one day. I soon found that
I could control these dreams, at least to some extent,
although fate and free will ebbed and flowed between my
reality and dream world. A sort of mystical dance that I
cheerfully took part in.
Yet I was soon to find this line between my dreams and
reality blurred to such and extent that would forever change
who I am. O’ beloved, I was but a boy, asleep my couch, T.V
blaring, when the fall breezes of the All-glorious blew the
winds of destiny, servitude, and praise entered my being. It
was the fall of 95-96’ whence thou omnipotence glanced down
upon me. The night was bright at the start, and it came as
quit a surprise, but when I looked into your eyes I knew I
had lost you, I knew that my passions and desires were to
fill my cup for many years to come until it overflowed with
schizyothmic insanity of my intoxicated love for thee.
Thus a numen (which is a Latin term for "divinity", or
a "divine presence", "divine will" (etymologically, the word
means "a nod of the head", here referring to a deity as it
were "nodding", or making its will or its presence known)
first came to me that spring night. My father called me from
the basement where I lay on my couch, yelling me to go
upstairs to bed. I ascended the stairs and saw a bright
light outside my window. This was my first heirophany
hieros, ‘sacred’, + phainein, ‘to show’). The manifestation
of the divine or the sacred, especially in a sacred place,
object, or occasion. Manifestations of some particular
aspect may be named after the aspect revealed, e.g.
theophany (of divinity), kratophany (of power). Was revealed
unto me and became my first ‘sign’ as Socrates called his
divine guide which got him killed on charges of corrupting
the youth. I fear I will succumb the same fate for I have
fallen and stumbled into the dark of Night. In more
simplistic terms I had an encounter of the third kind, I saw
and was watched by what many refer to as a ‘UFO’ or whatever
you want to imagine it as. When my eyes adjusted to the
nights sky after ascending the stairs from my basement I
pressed my face against the window pane and there in the
trees in my backyard the illumination I saw as I climbed
turned into bright lights enveloped around a translucent
discuss shaped craft. I became paralyzed literally by what I
saw following the shivers of its soul piercing watchfulness
that embraced my entire being, chills rain down my spine,
fringed with fear the hairs that did not even exist on the
back of my neck stood up.
My reality was shaken, I knew what I saw could not be
explained by any scientific query because it defied the laws
of physics as I understood them to be in the world. I
remembered God speaking to me in my dreams, and it let me
go. It began to float upwards over my house and I ran to the
other window looking to see the direction it took, I
immediately saw the translucent discuss shape take off at
light speed like millennium falcon into the starlit night. I
could not go to sleep that night, lying awake all night my
mind scrambled to understand what I had experienced, for
once I knew and felt that I was not alone. Something was
watching over me. Although the experience frightened me
dearly as it seemed to be a sort of warning, so much so,
that I pushed the memory deep into my subconscious until I
finally was able to talk about it with friends during my
times at Hyde, at a clandestine club that a couple of the
older students started, which was basically dedicated to
discussing conspiracy theories, occult knowledge, and the
secret’s of the universe.
At this time in my life, during Hyde years -where I
graduated from high school- drugs and alcohol had plagued my
life I was kicked out of proctor academy, attended
Portsmouth high school for one fall semester, but after
threatening charges of truancy as well as suspensions. One
time I was suspended for being ‘high’ although I had not
been. They ended up finding one of my Adderall pills in my
pocket, which I had put there on account that I did not want
to take it that day. Principle something or other went to
such extremes to see if any of the beads from the capsule
had been removed, but they were not. I made a scene and was
suspended for two weeks. Before PHS while attending Proctor
loll well it was like a hippy paradise boarding school. I
fit in quite well with the stoners of which included almost
the entire student body. EVERYONE SMOKED AND DRANK!! The
hockey team snorted cocaine and sexual intercourse occurred
on frequently. We made forts in the surrounding woods to
evade the teachers who took frequent walks in the woods to
try and catch people smoking. I violated numerous rules
there.
Not only did I excel in school, stoned as could be, I
also excelled in sports. I started selling and alcohol early
sophomore year, and made quite a bit of money. I was the
cool sophomore kid who always had weed and alcohol. I sold
to the entire student body and even got a bunch of kids in
trouble, well indirectly, but felt responsible still. I
enjoyed hanging out with hot senior girls and goofing off in
the northern new Hampshire woods smoking pot, and going on
the occasional mushroom trip snow shoe adventure or wake and
bake down by backwater river. Winter I quit the sky team to
learn how to snowboard and instantly was riding with the
more advanced riders. We would always smoke on the
chairlift.
I first experienced marijuana at the ripe age of 14-
15, the summer going into 9th grade while spending a weekend
in Nantucket at my friend’s house. His older brother
introduced my friends and I to cannabis. I can remember the
instant the smoke permeated my lungs, sending the THC and
127 cannabinoids spiraling into my capillaries and into my
bloodstream, neurons firing instantly I felt marijuana’s
euphoric high. Time slowly seemed to dissipate as I sifted
the sand with my hands it felt as though everything suddenly
became magical, I felt the world in every grain of sand-
once again I was able to re-enter a surrealistic reality of
a dream that I always longed for and at once being high and
all my mind seemed to be elsewhere in that surrealistic
reality I longed for. But it was not a dream, more of a
living nightmare as I experimented with alcohol and other
illicit substances with sophomoric recidivism up unto even
very recently. Where again I found myself again dealing with
consequences of substance abuse, which for me has always
lead to a wheeling and dealing. Always trying to fill my
emptiness and longing to be elsewhere by escaping through
alcohol or any substance that would numb me from the pain
and sorrow these inner feelings brought forth. Ignoring my
true calling.
The night before leaving for boarding school at proctor
academy for my freshmen year of high school at proctor I
drank a lot of southern comfort from my parents liquor
cabinet only to awaken to find myself and my bed doused in
vomit. Hung-over for the first time I left home and started
orientation with a pounding headache. I think it was the
third weekend that I received my first violation at proctor
for drinking after becoming utterly intoxicated, and once
again covered in puke.
I probably knew drinking was not for me, yet I still
enjoyed the euphoria and warmness that it temporarily
brought me. I was sober the rest of my freshmen year on
account of receiving a major violation, which required piss
tests. But let me get back to my sophomore year, a couple of
close calls like the junkyard owner shooting at us with his
shotgun over at wildcat- this old grateful dead van we
decked out- and almost getting busted by the volunteer fire
department when some of my associates from Greenland were
making a weed and pot drop off to me, and then finally being
confronted one Thursday night by two teachers for being
intoxicated, as I was supposed to be at a Biology movie
during study-hall when I was actually smoking a joint in the
woodshop while selling a bag to one of my friends. I was
immediately confronted for not showing up to the biology
movie, and I knew they were going to search my room because
the teachers had been cracking down on all the widespread
substance abuse amongst the student body. My eyes were of
course as bloodshot as the devil himself.
Unbeknownst to them I had a bunch of devils lettuce up
in my room, a quarter pound to be exact. I lied to them and
told them I was drunk as a skunk, that I had drinking
issues, although I tried to only drink on the weekends, they
fell for it, told me they were glad that I turned myself in
because if I had not they indeed would have searched my
room. Its funny now because I find myself haunted by
alcohol, many nights and days spent blacking out to the
point where I have pushed any sense of reason over the edge
into insanity, devoid even of some naïve consciousness I
become primal in my nature, and animalistic in my behavior.
Only hazing recollections of intoxicated nights and
days do I recall, but one of my ex girl friend described my
behavior as such. Anyways they told me to go get my alcohol,
I got some gin a friend had given me, I had not even touched
the stuff but my friend had finished most of it off. I
didn’t get the quarter pound of Canadian Kind Buds hidden in
the closet, didn’t feel like dealing with the police or any
legal trouble. They would have shit themselves if they saw
that quap. I was abusing a lot at that time, smoking before
football and lacrosse games. I took mushrooms before one
lacrosse game as I recall. All trees were blooming in the
spring and the mountains seemed to move, as I giggled at the
start of the game.
It didn’t seem to affect me much, or at least I
believed so at the, as I was lead running back for JV
football scoring numerous touch down’s and also received MVP
for JV lacrosse. Actually my roommate sophomore year I will
call him pat for the sake of this memory, died this past
year from a heroin overdose, he was the kid who never smoked
with any of us even in the dorm, we actually lived in a room
that a boy had committed suicide by taking too much Tylenol
or something a couple of years before we lived there.
Anyways he was always doing his homework and was very
kindhearted and yet shy and reserved. I was always trying to
be cool, and how he did not know I sold weed and alcohol
baffles me still. Pain and suffering makes one see the
emptiness in life, and so Strange is life because this
emptiness I feel is my guide and light for my soul. Being
Alone with the Great Alone scared me to death for so many
years, but nowadays I find peace and tranquility therein.
I’m digressing again, after my second offense with
‘alcohol’ they made me go to drug and alcohol counseling as
well as a mandatory piss tests every so often. I started
drinking more because of the piss tests. But the addict in
me found other ways to get around such stipulations, getting
somebodies clean piss I would bring a fake urination device
heated by hand warmers to every Tuesday assembly because
that’s when your advisor would thereafter have you go to
one.
I was two or three points away from getting kicked out
- three late points- would have accumulated to give me the
boot. So when you get in trouble they made you work at
maintenance facility being their bitch, which included
scrapping gum off tables that sort of thing. I got in so
much trouble my two years at proctor the whole maintenance
crew knew me pretty well. I got to drive a gator around
picking up leaves, but I didn’t mind, hauling ass down
campus streets. The kids got a kick out of my charade and so
did I. my cares were few and far between. I eventually stole
the master key to the school and got it copied, which in
brief led to my expulsion.
That summer I was getting stoned everyday with my
friend’s older brothers, who had first introduced me to pot
in Nantucket. We would go out jet boating in great bay and
little bay. Blazed out of our minds they would get a kick
out of sending us skipping us like stone’s across the water
on inner tubs at 60 miles an hr. By that point my parents
were noticing my behavioral patterns and apathy, the stoner
mentality and contentment. That August my parents sent me
away to the Adirondacks to an outward-bound program and upon
my return I would go to PHS that fall for my second
sophomore year.
I kicked and screamed when they sent me away, but after
a week I loved it, even though you weren’t supposed to, I
found ways of making myself quite at home. I made a walking
stick, found a dear skull and attached it to the top of the
walking stick with feathers and the like. The outdoor leader
started calling me the shaman. I wasn’t taking my add
medication at the time and well I fell into this sort of
primal and animalistic negation of my inner self, although
it felt right. I ate some random mushroom to freak the
counselors out and so that they would send me to an
infirmary and thus I would be able to run away. They sent a
doctor into the woods, and I ended up constipated for a
week. One night it was raining cats and dogs and the food
bags we had put high in a tree had fallen.
I thought it was funny and started pretending I was in
Vietnam as we tried to look for another tree to secure the
bags of food in. The counselors didn’t like that. One
evening as we settled down for camp we played this game of
which animal you resembled. So you would take a card from
the deck, and the animal you got had had a mythic Native
American story about the animal, which you were supposed to
internalize. I got the coyote. My letter came from my
parents, we all had letters from our parents that described
why they sent us to the woods. When my turn came, I burst
into tears because I fucked up so bad at proctor and longed
to be reunited with my dear friends and because I squandered
such a great education there with my petty game of wheeling
and dealing. Yet I know now that my curse from these tears
of from pain and longing to be elsewhere have surely been my
cure, and it their has once again appeared a light of hope
on the dark horizon of my existence.
I was sent to Hyde school, a place for troubled
youths. After a terrible fall semester at PHS as previously
mentioned. At Hyde I remained sober but was always in
trouble for something or other. The place was this kind of
this hellish nightmare of a school, a place for all sorts of
juvenile delinquent’s. But I did quite well in school and
excelled in sports. I didn't give a speech when I graduated
as a sort of protest against the idiosyncratic cult like
mentality of the boarding school experience that Hyde had to
offer.
The juvenile delinquents are an exceptional bread of
human beings, with possibly some evolutionary anomaly hidden
within our genetic code, which tells us that we are not fit
to live in society, or under any government. For what we
think of life under these structures of power is so far from
rational and conventional thought may provoke that we would
rather just say FUCK IT, than become what we abhor
I always thought I was like Holden Caulfield from
catcher in the eye; the whole experience was so damned
surreal. While I thoroughly enjoyed it for many reasons, any
student who has attended Hyde knows that its a fuckin' trip.
One teacher said to me that I would never succeed in
college, and more generally alluding to life. They even sent
me away for a month when I was senior for "flying under the
radar" because I wouldn’t follow their rules as well as
"causing chaos"- or something to that effect. Despite
completely denying and rejecting my participation in Hyde
School's orthodoxy and institutional capacity for taping
into young minds in sometimes disastrous ways. When I was 17
during a meditation retreat that summer at Hyde, I
experience my second and third hierophanies. I reached
Nirvana, but that is another story that would take many
pages to explain.
The suicides from that school have been numerous, my
close friend and roommate Frank McGill killed himself my
fall semester sophomore year at mount Ida College. Like his
favorite author Hunter S. Thompson, he shot himself with a
handgun in a park somewhere on the outskirt of Austin Texas.
Another girl, named Carol Anne Brown hung herself. The worm
a notorious drug dealer at UNH is incarcerated somewhere
after having over 45 felony charges, after being busted with
a brief case stacked with Molly, acid and all sorts of drugs
on a flight back from Colorado.
I went to Frank’s funeral, and I still think of him
often. Hyde definitely made my life in college more socially
awkward as well as introverted, but also instilled me a
hatred for any institution representing order and societal
progress, I found myself for the first time being a full
blown alcoholic freshmen and sophomore year’s at mount Ida.
Although still I was able to manage a 3.8 GPA and start on
there D-3 lacrosse team both years. My coach said one time
that us Jokes have no place in academia. Classes were so
easy; I got A’s on all my papers and exams, with nights of
studying with alcohol my warm and possessive friend. I was
again smoking pot everyday. Nothing seemed to challenge my
inner angst, but it was here that I started becoming more
spiritual, even through the lust driven nights of our lax
houses raging alcohol parties, women flocked to me. But sex,
drugs and rock and roll fueled my romance of passion and
desire, still though I longed to be elsewhere, to be with my
beloved, the absolute being of my yearning loves desire.
I decided not to play lacrosse and transfer to a better
school. I got into American University in D.C. with as much
ease as I could buy beer with my fake I.D. My first year
there I made dean’s list and maintained a 4.0 GPA, despite
my somewhat controlled drinking and use of marijuana. One
time I found a wallet on the bar, sitting there, I took it
and proceeded to buy the entire bar drinks. All my friends
where there and I spent easily a 1,000 $ buying drinks. I
thought it was funny at the time, I figured that not only
would the cardholder be reimbursed but I was actually using
the banks money to amplify my Marxist desire for chaos and
well participating in the perpetuation of my growing disgust
for capitalistic American society. That summer I got heavy
into OC 80’s which were rampant in Portsmouth. I tried
heroin a couple of times, but one week after not finding a
fix. I felt the hellish withdrawal symptoms of opiate
addiction and checked into detox at Hampstead hospital.
After I stopped drinking during the school year, but
would indulge in alcohol during the summers, and even then
it started to dissipate, especially with my growing
knowledge of religious texts. They seemed to fill the void
of my yearning, filled me with the remembrance of my beloved
that had once been so part of my childhood. I really started
to clean up my act, and gave up alcohol for months at a
time. Last year around this time I had not had a drink since
august. I was using marijuana less frequently. But I still
had much to learn about my perfectionism and ADD that seemed
to precipitate into substance abuse as an outlet for my many
failures and growing shame.
For all it was worth, I'm currently in pursuit of a MA
degree at American University for Islamic Peace and Conflict
Resolution. My BA is in Religious studies and I have a minor
in Arab studies and international studies. I am currently
four classes and an internship away from obtaining my goal
for the past 5 years going on 6 years now, as I was accepted
into an accelerated MA-BA program after my first year. OH I
also am the lacrosse team’s captain there. But I find myself
in new Hampshire at the moment in recovery after having not
been able to control my substance abuse which I always
seemed to manage somehow throughout my life probably through
the loving kindness of my parents and the grace of God who
looks after fools. When I found out last December that I had
a little girl that had been given up for adoption, as well
as my dad having cancer I started too loose control.
Drinking and depression reared their ugly heads. I
would wake up every morning, crying and praying to god, in a
sort of delirious state of suffering I had never felt
before. I then started dealing pot this past spring because
I was afraid my father would die and I would need to provide
for my family, thought nothing of it at first. It
reconnected me to the social life I also desired, after
isolating myself for 3 years form the AU party scene.
Selling massive weed came easily to me, and I was able to
mastermind a group of friends to do my biddings. It was
trilling for a time, as the massive amounts of weed gave me
wealth, power and privilege like a true Machiavellian; who
at the same time was an anarcho syncalist who desired to
overthrow the despotism and corruption of the American
capitalistic system. I still had time for my studies, but
then we our posy, the Albe and Marle gang, as we liked to
joke around about, but then we got big. We easily we’re the
biggest dealers in N.W. DC, selling to the surrounding
schools like G.W. and Georgetown and diversifying our
clientele basis from Saudi Princes to adorable little virgin
central American girls. I was that cool guy bringing 8 balls
to parties and getting everyone blasted out of their minds
on some of the best Peruvian flakes to be found in the D.C.
metro-area. Then my main associate and I started selling all
sorts of other drugs halfway through 2014 summer to afford a
lavish life pussyfooting around DC attempting to cure what
we called God’s curse. We even made a death pact. I
attempted to drown my heartaches in a downward spiral of
wheeling and dealing, with fine wines and white lines. I
loved selling weed and I was damn good at it, know one would
have suspected me, dressed in suit and tie on Friday nights,
and always dressed to kill. I tried so hard to leave the
party life of liquor and women. But they always seemed came
back with utter vengeance after abstinence from both for the
past three years. My desire for my beloved vanished once
harder drugs entered the scene; I started ignoring my demons
and literally the started haunting me this past spring, dark
shadows lurking in my peripheral vision. I feel in love with
a blonde this summer who broke my heart after she went into
an IOP program and stopped talking to me. I felt alone once
again, and this feeling was numbed by cocaine use, drinking
on my Xanax everyday, and eating wax infused edibles, and
smoking wax. I even started doing opiates again, and almost
checked myself into rehab but I detoxed with alcohol. I was
lost in a drug-induced coma of that wheeling and dealing. I
came up here for a week in august to try and stop drinking,
but as soon as I returned the stress of drug dealing became
an ethical and moral issue I could not ignore. I decided
that my ex got it right; I should check myself into IOP
program.
I’m currently on medical leave, only because I kept
asking for help - desperately so. The Friday night I had my
intake at the seacoast mental health center IOP up-here my
house in the luxurious neighborhood of the United States’
capital was raided by a swat team, more precisely the DC
vice unit. They found nothing, we knew the neighbors had
been on too our antics. Plus all the drugs we were doing
made us wicked paranoid. They found no money and no drugs. I
was also in New Hampshire. My minions squabbled over the
remnants’ of my clientele where my leadership had left a
vacuum as I know they still are wheeling’ and dealing. I
honestly do not know how I’m not dead right now, only by the
grace of God have a lived 26 years for I have had many close
encounters with death, car and bus accidents, I think I
almost overdosed a couple times, and vomiting in my sleep,
more that I cannot recall. I almost long for death sometimes
to be re-united with my beloved, but it is by his will to
call the angel of death and I will be ready for my hands and
feat to testify against me for my copious
Once again, I find myself sober. I know now that I
mustn’t sacrifice my life to my animal-soul. I must find
that universal balance, with grace, dignity, servitude, and
faith. I must gamble everything for love, to help perpetuate
humankind’s progress, within this manner.
Recommended