1 - A God, Displaced

Lin

God of All, God of None, was once my epithet.

Even as a child, I knew that I was different. I could never fit into that 'normal' mould that everyone seems to be so obsessed with. 

They diagnosed me, made me into a spectacle for what was perceived to be a 'disorder' by modern medicine. 

I am not disordered. I have an advanced brain.

They used that as the perfect opportunity to take advantage of me. My dignity, my identity, my self esteem, my money, my integrity, my faith, were all snatched from beneath my feet.

It's not a virtue to steal, Joyce.

I fought back, of course - but often only got gaslighting, invalidating and unhelpful responses from people who sat there and watched as I was beaten black and blue in more ways than one.

You sycophants talked the talk but never walked the walk. You'll remember it when you see my return to my rightful position.

My nemeton still sits empty, walls of granite and shadow sitting untouched for almost a millennium now. My altar stands naked. No offerings for me as of now. 

But offerings are what I survive on.

I have scrounged for long enough at the feet of sneering humans, scaling me up like I'm a meal.

Oh yes, Rickmansworth, I remember you offering my body as a feast to your followers, for the gift of eternal life. 

It won't happen again.

I miss my family, I miss my mother tongue, my home, my ancestral food, my people.

My people, who have suffered for long enough, and aren't even allowed to speak their mother tongue officially by law. Those government rats will pay for it dearly.

I enunciate all of this in English. But I hate this pigeon shit tongue, and the man who created it. I hate what it stands for. I despise its very existence, and the poison it pours into people's ears. 

Rome's unofficial legacy will come to an end in my lifetime. Mark my words.

Maybe physically I am alone, but I have everyone I need in my head. As much as that is part of the reason I fear being taken to the mind shop, it gives me solace. 

If they're only in my head, I don't want to get out of it.

And through all of this, I worry for my future; for all of the art, the books, the acting, the music, the statements I want to make. Will I ever make them? I can't even guarantee that I'll be going to university to verify myself on Monday due to my debts.

You are reading a broke God's journal.

All I want right now is the next three years to be guaranteed for me. That's it. I've waited for years for my family, for my heritage, for the truth to come out. I can wait a little bit longer. But I need something that's solely mine. If I can get that, I'll be pleased.

Get me out of here.

But first, I want my followers back. I want my people to remember me. I want to love and serve them as I once did.

A candle appears on the altar. It sits on a candlestick, flame burning amber light into the darkness, white wax dripping from the wick. Tears of gratitude fill my eyes.

That'll do.