“I’ve got no strings, to hold me down, to make me fret, or make me frown. I had strings, but now I’m free. There are no strings on me!” If you don’t know, the irony is in a malleable-minded, easily-exploited, masterfully-manipulated, immensely-impressionable person proposing that they’re free just because they’re a playable puppet without physical strings. And that, my far, far away friends, is essentially every everyday Earthling in a nutshell. That’s except me, of course. Which queues the query, how much “Pinocchio” you got in you? Why doesn’t being fake as fuck feel funny—uncomfortable and unnecessary—to you? Admittedly, I frequently fake feelings for folks to protect their mental health, even though I have general care and concern for others. I understand that some seemingly needy, nagging people take traumatic experiences hard, and strong support systems are really rare. Additionally, I understand that several time-honored trends and traditions train people to expect traumatic things to ruin their lives, as opposed to training them to avoid being traumatized by typical testing and trying experiences. Again, that “now you know how I feel” mentality makes many perpetuated problems look like life lessons when they’re plainly people purposely putting others through the same stupid shit that kept them stuck and stagnant, subsequently making staying stuck and stagnated a trend and tradition. How many of your friends and family members are crabs in a barrel or overzealous opportunists? Personally, unfortunately, I’ve had nearly nothing but lying-ass losers and hating-ass humans around me all my life. Y’all know the type—mentally ill, miserable, meddlesome motherfuckers who hate themselves to the point where they blame everybody else for their frequent fuck-ups and unmitigated unhappiness then try to take credit for everyone else’s excellent accomplishments. Make it make sense, motherfuckers! Again, on often occasions, I’ve had petty, puerile, pathetic people lie about me to other people in my motherfuckin’ face! And those same sick-ass, sad-ass, stupid-ass people wonder why they can’t come to the top with you when you elevate and evolve—ain’t that some shit? Anyhoo, I have a like-a-little/loath-a-lot relationship with y’all God. And again, I became an atheist at age seven after finding out that fairy tales are fictional—as I automatically associated Jesus Christ, God, and the Bible with fantastical fairytales. It was basically because that stupid shit didn’t make sense to me even as a child, and I still stand by my deliberate decision to never believe things that haven’t been perfectly proven. Notwithstanding, I’ve got this so-called God-given gift that admittedly allows me to see everything and everyone for what and who they actually are. Yet, that’s almost the same thing that made me an atheist in the first place, right? So, did God make me not believe in “God?” Moving on, shout-out to Bernice Burgos, as my totally taken-over timeline keeps spamming me with her videos. And also shout-out to Ajiona Alexus, because she’s so beautiful. Listen, at least y’all God knows what I like looking at. But what if the fuck-ass Feds are “God?” Your Honor, they think they’re getting away with what was ordained by someone or something with complete control. Your confusion isn’t providing protection, it’s an illusion. Having hope can calm anxiety and suppress stress, but false freedom from chaos and confusion can make those things way worse when the problem that caused them is being avoided and not nipped in the bud—especially when perpetuated problems have regularly, repetitively returned. What’s wrong with y’all? Do you not know that not knowing doesn’t mean there’s nothing to not know? In other words, if you know that you don’t know then you know that there’s more to know, so why does not knowing make you think that not knowing means you know something that you don’t know? Like I said, make it make sense, motherfuckers! And that goes for everybody. “Go ahead, make a fool of yourself! Then, maybe you’ll listen to your conscience!” What if suffering from success in the inimical, injurious industry of indecency and ill intention isn’t by your God’s grace? What if your God gave you what you wanted—a lavish life in the limelight—to show those that see things for what they actually are something extremely enlightening and eye-opening? What if you’re all being made a mockery of? Cliff, that song slaps, I can’t lie. “I must make you aware of the fact that the glory should go to God. ‘Cause I tried to fuck this shit up a long time ago. If it were not for the grace of God. Listen, man! I would not be here, bro.” Why are you braggin’ ’bout bullshit? But you’re right, sir. And I thank your God for letting your life lessons teach me something substantially important. Congratulations, Cliff, ‘cause wanting to be better than nonsensical niggas like you helped make me who I am. So, when I step up and show out, outshining ordinary “stars” like I’m made from something special, remember your motherfuckin’ music and what it means. You wanted more money than most motherfuckers, and you got it. Would you like to know what I wanted? Well, soon…
Omniscience