THE GIRL – With Chocolate On Her Face –

“I hate you” she screams.

"I HATE YOU" - PLEASE DON'T LEAVE.

“I HATE YOU” – PLEASE DON’T LEAVE.

Dark storms over a field of violet stir In her heart.

The word seems delivered at you but the tone is unmistakable.

The share frustration at seeing shadows sketched on the brain. Knowing the phantoms are not real but still uncontrollable they drive impulse, the all-consuming fear, the blind panic, cold livid blue. 

A ship under sail pushed like a toy by the brewing cyclone upon angry waking seas.

 The words hit like harpoon hurled from the cannon. They sink, twist, then pull reversed barbs, splitting flesh like skin peeled off a fruit. Pain caused not by the terrible curses, hurled like spells from an evil grimore, these bounce off like bronze striking iron,

It’s the knowledge of how lost alone and terrified the girl with chocolate on her face is that bites deepest.You get but just a glimpse. Enough to hit you in the stomach. You have being picked up by a car driven by a drunk and slammed to the roads rough jagged metal surface.

 She sit their eating her chocolate greedily it’s her only friend.

She is glaring at you dirty scared and abandoned. “I hate you” she hisses.

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She wants to take your out stretched hand with all her heart. But she just cant for she even more fearful that the promise of nourishment, shelter and protection, is all a trap. Oh how that betrayal would hurt even more than the illusions and rage she despises. Yet at less she know her rage will never leave her and its addictive poison can be trusted with its reliable malice.

So she would have you walk out the door and leave her dirty and hungry in the cold, the dark and the shadows in her mind, licking drops of water off the window, behind locked doors, to quench her thirst, with only her melted chocolate bar for protection and nourishment. A stranded whales who wont return to the water to swim no matter how much you try to free it swallows you up and just drowns you.

The girl with chocolate on her face murmurs “I hate you” as her hair fall over her face as she lowerx her head before whispering “please don’t leave me”.

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A dark terrible storm breaks over a violet field which never seems to end.


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My new buzz word for the week is Wetiko which is the cree version of the wendigo (acknowledgement to Evlyn Gilbert)  A spiritual cannibal that lives on fear and in that state of fear becomes a dangerous beast. More dangerous to those who love it than those who are indifferent to it.
Eventually infecting those around it so they too are consumed with fear anger and hate.

Watching the Walking Dead where the group of survivors, on edge for months, now having to endure all sort of evil to survive last night gave me an interesting insight to what makes the Wetiko so powerful.

One word survival.

I have over my life time witnessed people endure all sort of hurt but when it involves the person having to literally face survival the bite of the wetiko becomes the most toxic.  The survival drive is the strongest and when the triggers is fired that reminds the inner brain of the time that thing that put their lives at risk their is no reasoning their is no negotiating their is just ATTACK ATTACK ATTACK.

God help you if your on the end of that its rentless, it cruel, and it takes no half measures. In my experience the saddest thing about it is that it has no conscience and no empathy. The person bit by the Witeko will kill destroy burn and experience with little more than a dab of nostalgia. Even that will be based not on actual empathy but for what the Wetiko has lost.

Met the spiritual version of the Walking Dead you no they cant help it. You can no it not their fault they are what they are. You can want to suck the poison out. It wont make a difference if you are caught in between the fear of the Wetiko bitten and it perceived way out. They will go though you and every thing you value like a hot knife though butter.

The wetiko bitten will trash all you hold sacred – do their best to contact all you know, as to take hostages and make sure every one on “their side” – they will use every bit of intimate information to wreck you and if they don’t have that they will just make it up any how. Confronted with the truth they will deny it an apology is only worth the time when the infected feel positive towards you. Once that mood changes (trigger by a fear) that apology and all the promise go straight out the window. As for sympathy – yeah will you might have better luck if you asked for that off Satan.

“Get over it”. Just snap out of it post trauma does not work like that.
As soon as fear is triggered reason goes out the window.

I’m really not sure what is worse to suffer from this or to be on the other end where it matter not how much love you throw it will never be enough.

Walk away leave them to eat their frigging chocolate bar – that sucks big time – to walk away from some one who really needs your help who really is the worse kind of hell you may ever imagine. I think that the worse part.

But some times the only thing you can do to help is do exactly that.

You might not I say it almost incurable – wit is but it not impossible.

But the only one who can do anything for those bitten by the Wetiko is the victim them selves.

Most are not strong enough – for many as horrible as hell is it familiar – an the brainwashing power of the Stockholm syndrome of wetiko is massive.

But their are treatments out their. The question is does the victim wan that cure enough. Do they have something that inspire them to come face to face with the demon that is themselves. You have to be brave enough to hope so because by engaging in those bit by the Wetiko you give them permission to live in their poison. It okay so will tolerate, endure, permit… to be this way.

When the best thing the hardest thing you can do is just walk away and have hope that the girl with chocolate on her face will find her voice and say no to her own wetiko.

In all probability that wont happen but it really is the only thing you can do – that plain

THE GIRL – With Chocolate On Her Face –

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