Over the last forty-eight hours 26 letters were hand delivered across the lower mainland, and there are a lot of people wondering why I wrote the letters. A lot of people looking at the written diarrhea of thoughts that seemingly make no sense and wonder why in the hell they got a letter when hundreds of other people did not.
In Canada, in small towns across the globe, bad things happen to good people. Largely these things include depression, sexual assault and other traumas that we still pretend every day don’t happen.
I am one of twenty-six girls that I know of, that were sold into Sexual Slavery as a child, in my particular case, I did everything I could to make sure that my family had no idea what was happening to me.
You’ve heard or read me reference the NXIVM cult, Keith Rainier and Robert Kelly, a lot over the last few months. I spoke about a group who called themselves the Adrenaline Mob, not I might add, members of the kick ass rock band.
These men for years have been training young boys and young girls to be sex slaves for the better part of the last thirty years, here in the Lower Mainland.
For more years than I probably should have, I did my best to ignore the fact that it was happening to me. I allowed myself, I brainwashed myself, into believing that things that should have happened to me, specifically, were not in fact happening.
I learned how to do this because I was a patient of Dr. Golden, one of many, unfortunately, long story short, the point is, I promised myself that when the bad stuff was over, I would write 26 letters, to remind the world and myself that I did in fact exist.
I decided whatever was remaining on this website when those letters were delivered had to be the truth, because if I hadn’t removed it from the website, it probably was something important enough to stay there.
A lot of people have had access to posting on this website, that stops today, because a lot of lies were told in the building of what should have been a symbol of freedom for those of us who have experienced the worst of the city of Surrey. Just to name one of the many terrible cities in this province.
This is the first time in the history of Canada, a Brown woman who is also classified as a Black, English, Irish, Scottish, and Jamaican woman can honestly say, the sickness that runs in the blood of this country is disturbing at best, and traumatizing at least.
I used to look forward to being the Loud Mouth Brown Girl, I always knew it was going to be my name, because I’ve been hearing voices in my head tell me so since I was three years old.
I learned at an early age to hide what I can do, until it wasn’t time to hide, because hiding meant telling far too many lies. I spent far too long swallowing all the lies that other people told me, because it was easier than admitting that yes, I suffered too. Largely at hands of men and women who understood what it meant to suffer, while those who could have done something, did nothing.
So I wrote the letters, I’ve been writing these letters since I was a child, I’ve been hiding them in the secretest place inside my mind, because I didn’t want people around me to think that I thought the worst of them.
I wanted my whole life, to believe in the very best in people, to believe that everyone can change, hell you know that jackass troll named Ping that I keep saying I Hate? Well he’s one of my favorite people, and I know this, because he was so curious about why I said that he flew here to see me, so did a bunch of other really amazing people.
I am alive today, because someone believed that the little annoying voice in their head wasn’t them being crazy, if you don’t believe me, the entire WWE is built on the idea that the characters they create, are creations in their own heads.
They are not, WWE Creative creates these characters, except for the Undertaker, and well Randy Orton, who is without a doubt, a complete and total lunatic.
Those characters are created however, so that the athlete behind them can survive the pull of needing to beat the crap out of someone because of their pain, or excitement or strange desire to be a super hero to a kid who whispers “I wish I had time to do that.”
I didn’t have a lot of time to follow my dreams, largely because I was busy being raped, beaten, tortured, lied to and continuously working hard to hide the secret of what happened to me, while hoping and praying other people, might hear some of the same whispers.
Some of the same calls for help, I may have tried to amplify those voices largely because as an Empath it’s actually my job to help people, but frankly you humans, yes you, those of you who are not empaths, who could care less how other people feel? you guys are fucking assholes.
You are dream stealers, crushers of hope and you are without a doubt the enemy that God warned us all about, and it’s exhausting being the only one to hear the voices. So I called together a summit, and everyone heard the voices, and now…well now the letters have been delivered.
Every single person who came to visit me left with a letter, after leaving a letter for someone else, my friends from around the world got to meet each other, and they learned that by coming together to save literally one soul, they know now, how to stop the fucking virus that is hatred.
Hackers, Gangsters, Thugs, Rappers, Lunatics, Punks, Geeks, Nerds and women who once thought it was acceptable to be called Parrots, Bitches, Crow Eaters and for the love of god, Sluts, are now working together to understand whatever the fuck it is that is hiding inside my brain.
Apparently it’s something pretty cool, all I know is that I wrote a bunch of letters, and within those letters are clues and secrets to whatever it is those of you who received a hand written letter are looking for. Whatever it is you are searching for, I hope you got the right clue, if you think a mistake has been made, perhaps you should look for someone else who also received a letter.
There are two million, six hundred and twenty-six of you who have received a letter with instructions, clues, a wish to grant or a wish granted, it’s up to you to decide what that wish is. If it led you here, then we humbly welcome you, to the house of the Sisterhood of Bachante, which of course you already knew…because if you weren’t already a member, you wouldn’t feel that tingle in the back of your neck that tells you something amazing just happened.
Something very majickal has just happened to the world, and the seeds have at long last been released, this is not Civil War you fucking morons, it’s Assassin’s Creed.