by Uriel Gray
My dear little bitch,
I realize you have no idea how much MAGICK I have worked on your behalf.
Remember when I kicked you to the ground and stepped right on your solar plexus, forcing you to double up in pain?
Remember how you were traumatized, beat up, sexually abused, sodomized, reputation trashed, rejected at school, pointed at and taunted?
Remember how you lost the good things, and finally you got to the point where it felt like you would do anything to end the pain?
I imagine that you thought you had lost something precious, and so you had.
Maybe it was your innocence.
Maybe you lost all proportion and you spent years numbing yourself out.
I bet you hate me. And rightly so. You should.
Your hatred is the beginning of a righteous anger that you will soon learn to deploy around yourself so that you never get into that situation again.
You are no longer naive.
You will not allow the mundane actors — coworkers, rapists, untrustworthy priests, cult leaders, telemarketers, vampires… to have their way with you again, not on your watch.
And rightly so.
Your rage is a holy fire that is the sign that there is a lesson to be consolidated, here.
LIKE THE HOLY FIRE INVOKED DOWN ON THE SEPULCHRE IN JERUSALEM
Maybe it is rage at the systematic oppression of your people, your colour, your sex, your gender, or your lack of gender or your refusal to occupy “your place.”
Maybe you are poor and you hate being poor.
You have drunk the dregs of shitty poverty, abuse, discrimination you did not deserve, and you. are. fighting. mad.
You are resentful, wary, depressed, furious.
Your anger is a shield, and you push away every good thing that comes to you because screw it. But here’s something you don’t know yet, little bitch, my sweet little sodomized plaything.
It gets worse than this and here’s how: your pain will end one day soon and you will reach a worse place than you could ever imagine yourself. Maybe you will lose something so precious that you curse yourself and want to die.
You know you’re playing around, not “for real” in life and yet… one day.
One day, despite the pain I have already caused you, you will lose the thing that hurts.
That’s how it goes with multiple trauma, baby. You got so numb the first time that only *I*, the God of Darkness, could wake you up. And I use pain.
Admit it, little bitch… you love it.
You have a much higher pain tolerance than others and what others run from… high-tension situations… physical endurance marathons like days of no sleep or pushing yourself to go without food… or abuse that is almost ritualized in its predictability… you deeply and sweetly fucking embrace.
It makes you feel alive.
That time will come when you lose the worst thing.
You know what it is.
Maybe, honey child, maybe you won’t know until it’s gone.
And you’ll know because you want to kill yourself, or somebody else.
I will take it from you, so that you may finally cry out, little bitch.
All that stoicism doesn’t impress me and I don’t give you any kudos for “keeping your head down” or “doing your best.”
Your rotten, craven conformity may get you points from cousin Saturn. But *I* am satisfied with nothing less than your genuine transformation.
You’ve been running scared, little bitch; you refuse to transform.
You’ve been trying to hide from me. Ohh…
… but I WILL FIND YOU.
I am already twisting your arm.
Already you can feel the pain, and it is riding your fucked-up tolerance like a sweet morphine hit.
But soon that pain will get too much for even you, my beautiful, traumatized, fucked-up queen of endurance, barbed wire, bitter truths, and all things hard.
Oh, yes, honey, you’ve been my bride for quite a while, and yet you refuse to let me consummate this.
If only you would give me what I want.
I want no more and no less than any playground bully.
I want you to cry Uncle.
Embrace this pain and swish it around in your mouth and realize it.
Get real, kiddo, my sweet little bitch plaything.
Haven’t you had enough from me? I dare you to admit it. And then, sweet one, I dare you to take my mantle of pain from out of my horny ebony hands.
And place it on yourself… And change.
And when you do, I will be there. Quick as a shadow, quicker than the *snnickk* of an old-fashioned razor opening.
I am the God of Darkness, little bitch, and I will answer you.
My rivers of black stormy emission thrash and churn. My black sweet darkness will lift you up.
As you pull down onto yourself that most ultimate of pains — self transformation — I will bear you on my shoulders, out of my caves of darkness into the clean air.
It will be night, outside, darling one, and the sweetest scent of night-blooming jasmine on the cool air will soothe your trauma-heated face and your hot skin.
I will stay with you that night on the banks of the river dark as sin.
I will give you my gift.
At dawn, the sharp crescent of the sun will wake you, and you will look down at yourself and behold something you do not recognize.
About the Author:
Uriel Gray is a multiple Scorpio DRAG QUEEN TRANNY FAG and PSYCHIC coach with current openings for a limited number of exclusive long-term clients. His course on practical transformation, TRANS-FORM, helps smart, magical people turn their DEEPEST SHAME into unexpected ROCKET FUEL. TRANS-FORM opens May 3, 2016. In his spare time, Uriel focuses on wealth building, fame, glamour, and you.
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Show Comments (3)
That is some magickal love for sure. Tough love. But love none the less.
thank you for your understanding and deep wisdom…..sending love
Fuuuuuuck. Called out. HEARD. Thank you. Putting my bitch boots on. <3