Epitaph To The Lost Innocent

There used to be more political discussions about whether gender is innate to the individual or societal, one of my friends feels of course it's innate. While I don't disagree, apparently you can only agree completely.

Yet now in the Winter of 4100 most people will look at you strange for even asking an apparently outdated question. The government seems to have decided "curing gender identity disorder" is better than "living a life of total misery." Let's keep in mind this is the government making the decision on behalf of the individual.

This is why when I had a kid of my own, despite being hundred of years to old, I kept my child a secret from the government, and didn't keep her in any state registry. Sometimes when you live off the grid, you make some sacrifices in order to keep whatever independence you have. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the government making minor decisions, but it's not their job to decide what kind of baby an individual has their own body. It's not like she has no social life, but I have to keep watch on who she has as her friends.

If it were the government making a decision about gun ownership, this would be one thing. But it's like every choice an individual makes has to go through the filter of a voting booth. Sorry, but what kind of kid a parent chose to raise did not use to be a matter society got to vote for. When you have politicians that are more interested in the idea of making a quick buck, can we really trust them with the decision to determine what sorts of children a mother may have? Keep in mind this is a government that chooses to go to wars overseas instead of getting rid of the armed forces. This is a government that chooses to genetically engineer babies with designer traits, and them strap their bottoms to shoot them overseas to fight in wars the aristocrats want. I can't trust a government that defines what motherhood should be.

The idea of an individual seems to be an extremely foreign thing in this world. For one, have you tried looking up porn ONLINE lately?

You have to use an onion browser in order to access it without regional restrictions like: no access privileges for those in the US. Let's keep in mind this is the same kind of nonsense were porn businesses ban people for having North Carolina or Alabama addresses, except now the nonsense is even more extreme--North West Carolina, South West Carolina, North East Carolina, and South East Carolina. Same with Alabama: a multi-state state who politically seems to care about "conservative family values" rather than common sense.

Apparently they don't care about the fact that the nation is tearing itself apart by border disputes, so long as they can obsess over social justice issues in previous areas of life where it has nothing to do with that social justice issue. People's families can be torn apart by gunshots and lack Medicaid, and they still argue about whether it's worth giving them access to pornography. "Hey, you could use a nice video of a hand job while you're in the ER." I wouldn't mind a nurse giving me a hand job, at any time of day. But technically that's considered prostitution.

Which by the way the state still draws more intention to the merits of being a prostitute, then why idiots in office seemed to have solved the designer baby problem, but not whether states have the right to succeed.

The priorities in this nation are all backwards.

I want to go back to my own proper time line. Except I can't, I'm an immortal. And immortals can only watch society progress.

I dream of what began my immortality.

I remember my phone beside me.

It's weird how you get used to being the only transplant, and then you meet another and throw your whole perspective for a loop. It was my last aged cigarillo from the Summer of 2016. After I smoked my last cigarillo, and consumed my last vapor, I began to think about how one would make a cannabis cigar.

You might find it quite bizarre, but I always wanted to smoke one. I suppose you could make it using THC glue, using Tobacco leaves for the base cigar. Sure, it's not like smoking a joint, but you get the drug straight into your system, rather than filtered. And I've heard that THC has better effects on the body than tobacco, though I've heard small amount of nicotine are good for you too.

Not that it mattered, I always consumed either for the flavor. I put out my last cigarillo, my last nicotine high for a while. Then the rest of my life comes rushing forward at lightning speed.

The porn pill also has their own flavor profiles, used in some cases to give societal malcontents an outlet for escape. Whatever that personal condition may be. Whoever you may be. It was the new prison, used to reduce the prison population without resorting to overt totalitarian tactics like lining prison women up in rows, and shooting them into mass graves. That would be some countries in the far East, just so you know.

But I've heard things about the porn pill. I've heard from friends that it can drive people insane. Make them withdraw into themselves. Make them wish to forget the heartbreak of their lives. For my friends still live on food stamps, and some of them go on "dates" with their manager's wives. And yet some of the ones I've known that started using it, their lives weren't destroyed yet. So from time to time I thought I'd make a bet. How many more days till I pop one?

While I have fantasies of my own, I have no sins for me to atone. I am against the very idea of atoning. Atoning is for the weak willed. Atoning is so often used for people who have no sense of self-worth. People that eventually give in, and accept bullshit in their daily lives; lives that can blow up like planet in science fiction movies, the safe ones that is. For them the motion picture industry has become their lives; they become drunkards and split from their wives.

For those who still have their lives to tear apart.

Yet for me, everything goes back to the start.

"How much will it be." I say to the cashier, pulling out medical card.

"You'll find out in the receipt." she said, turning to the side to look out the window. Me and her see homeless people sharing pills together. "I wonder why it is even people like that get these. I don't mind the reason, but it's amazing how cheap these have become. I couldn't have bought these myself few months back.".

"You're not from around here are you?" I asked.

"Fairly new to WA. Have a nice day!"

I exit the pill shop. Then explore the rest of my life, and give into a new experience. For the rest of my life.

My personal fantasies.

Yet now I could only think of my futuristic life in abstract children's fantasy narratives, with adult themes trickling through at the speed of the dream world.

I imagined, I dreamed, I wept. I thought of nothing but the little farmer girl, who needed a family. Someone to love her, and that was when I began to remember why it was I wanted to be a children's writer.

I had given up trying because my own issues trickling through, such as the story I am about to tell.

You know it is when raising pigs in the cold weather, often in the chills one may catch a cold. One merely waits as they shiver in their wooden clogs, waiting for the weather to warm up just a little to feed them.

Her family had moved from our previous state, where we once kept a farm. We moved to the big city where there were advertisement screens everywhere. The industrial life has given away to a new lifestyle among her peers. In some of the science fiction novels she read growing up, it is usually the man or woman from the future who looks as if they were a magical being or demon. But instead most of the people looked at them as if they had come from another world. It took a long time to get there in the cart, while others on the city roads were riding motorcycles.

In school she was the object of exotic fetishism among other girls, having a kind of quality of being from another time period. The boys would straighten out their legs under their seats, when she shook her wooden clogs exposing her bare heels and ankles. One even hid their face from her, jeering as she walked by. Thus the first few days of her new senior high school life was marked by uneasy friendships.

I suppose you could call her a Mary Sue, but frankly she would just assume cut you up and put you in her stew.

After dinner she washed the dishes, then went into her room up the stairs. Up, up, up the stairs she walked, resisting the temptation to climb the railing. She opened the door, and popped open her backpack. Inside her leather lunch bag was a little blue pill. She wondered if some of her acquaintances had slipped it in her bag. She wondered if this was what they were referring to when they discussed medicine that allowed them to experience their wildest of fantasies. The farmer girl knew she had desires of her own, but never dared to express them to my religiously conservative family.

She was the Atheist of them, and thus found there would be no sin in trying the pill for herself. And that's when she discovered she liked women.

The stories the I try to hide from the world, in their abstract glow and fantasy glare. Abstract portraits of the self.

I was in a separate world of my own. It was closer to the ideal city beyond the bleed through districts. There were many flying car airplane hybrids flying various floating cities, where people could experience all forms of reality not able to be experienced by the sensually repressed. I found that I would beginning to inflate like a balloon whenever I saw women wearing the latest in German ugly sandal and clog fashion. I found that I could ask other girls out on dates as my own will alone. I found that I could engage in whatever fantasy I desired.

I woke up, unsure how to take the new sensations.

I needed to find a way to get some more of the porn pills. I thought of the lack of childhood in the world of cynical media.

I thought of the nightmare.

Of lost innocence.

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