JANUARY 2025 |. FINAL THOUGHTS BEFORE THE FALL. |. AURORA STELLEPERETTI. |. JOURNALING

Viva La Resistencia

Man, it sucks to have this power. This such strong sense of foresight. These … premonitions. I don’t want to say that I wish I couldn’t see the world so clearly, but … sometimes all I can see is the future. The present fades away, just another frame among the trillions of frames in the negative strips of time, and all I can see are the possible futures, stacked on top of each other and next to each other like skyscrapers, each glass window increasingly an option I’m no longer interested in. It feels like all the windows are narrowing, it feels like the buildings are shaking, holes in the ceilings and the floors starting to crumble. It’s starting to really feel like there is no way out.

But I KNOW there must be. I KNOW the Gods wouldn’t have given me these gifts, taken me down this path, shown me everything they have shown me and made me go through all the things I have gone through if there wasn’t a way through this. If there wasn’t a better future out there. If there wasn’t a way to save the planet and humanity that didn’t involve Lucifer Husk shuttling off a rocketship full of slaves to Mars…

President Hiden is just three days away from peacefully transferring power to Dumbotramps and his Overlord. You’d think the fall of an institution as gargantuan as American Democracy would at least be loud, that there would at least be a hall brawl or street fight or court battle or a bombing or … literally anything. But no, all’s mostly quiet in the end. We go out not with a bang, but with a whiff of wind.

Yeah, the American Class War was over before it even began. Democracy fell and oligarchy rose with but one death attributed to the peasants: a millionaire healthcare CEO, applauded by both parties as a wonderful man who didn’t deserve to die, even though he was responsible for the prolonged pain, suffering and deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. His murderer was so straight-up out of a video game, I don’t even believe he’s a real person: He was a literal last-minute gift from God, telling us all that our anger isn’t in vain and that we are meant to fight the villain. I don’t know. I guess most people think the war is just beginning or hasn’t actually happened yet, or that we somehow circumvented it by doing what the billionaires wanted and electing Dumbotramps as our leader. We all want to believe that our government has our best interests at stake, that the future is automatically brighter, that things can’t get worse. Optimism is a soft couch in a warm room, and reality is a dark room with strobing lights.

I know there must be a Resistance somewhere, but I have not seen it. Oh, there are podcasters and TipTappers and there are comedians and some truth-tellers still. But they have no leader. They are not organized. They are still too afraid of breaking decorum to speak with righteous anger. They still pretend violence has no place here, even though violence is literally everywhere. But it’s true. Violence will never be the answer. We will never be able to out-violence the oligarchs. Not now. Not with their technology and extreme wealth and love of cruelty. Violence is only the way to more violence. The oligarchs know how to control minds. They know how to play to a crowd, they know how to deceive an audience, they know how to manipulate desperation. But this isn’t life or death to them, and they want to live more than anything. The only thing we have on our side is numbers. Volume. Mass. The volume of our rage, the loudness of our dreams, the strength of our convictions. To win a class war, you have to empower the soul. You have to free the spirits. You have to use every tool at your disposal to steal hearts, widen minds and grow the courage of your gut.

How do you win minds? How do you steal back the souls that have been taken in by the capitalist propaganda of the christian nationalist patriarchy? How do you stay hidden in the shadows while resisting a technofascist oligarchy? You create your own world to escape to. You make it beautiful and safe and loving. You take care of yourself. And when you step outside of that place, when you step into the light and out into the world we are all sharing together, you fight with everything you have to make it better. And then you retreat again. Back to that place.

But how do you progress forward if you’re constantly retreating?

Maybe you just got to do it one breath at a time, with every breath you can. Maybe you’ll never knock out your opponent, but you keep swinging. You keep expressing your rage and your love and your disappointment and your desires and you keep on fighting for your dreams. You keep fighting for the future you envision, one where entire cities don’t have to go up in flames, one where millions of people aren’t losing their homes every month just so we can keep allowing billionaires to profit off of dirty energy and plastic pollution and toxic pesticides.

Think about the breathing like in boxing. You thought you were putting up a pretty good fight before, throwing punches and resting, punching and resting, punching and resting. But it turns out that was just the beginner level. The fight has leveled up now. You don’t get to breathe separately anymore. You don’t get a moment to shake it out or relax your shoulders anymore. This is keeping your dream alive with every breath. This is for the life and death of self-expression, of Self. This is the fight your soul, your God, your Creator, has prepared you for. This will not be a one-year war. It will be a 30-year-struggle, and in the end, you will probably die a martyr. But you will also have all the power of the Creator on your side. You will be happy. You will be fulfilled. You will live your life with purpose. You will be close with God and you will know all the wisdom of your ancestors going back to when they were just glowing burning balls of explosive energy and light. And death will send you back to oneness with the Earth, until your next life.

Of course, the next life will only come if the Earth allows humanity to continue surviving, if it keeps believing that human beings add more to the world than they take away from it.

Dear God, overthrowing the oligarchy and saving the planet are tall orders. Why me? Why am I the one you won’t stop talking to about this?! Why can’t you just give me a moment to myself in the present and stop showing me all these visions of the future?

It’s because I’m listening. It’s because I’m creating, because I’m always talking with my soul, connected to God, worshipping the Earth. If other people did all that, they would hear it too, I’m sure of it. This isn’t all just in my head, I don’t care how many times people call me insane or tell me to get on meds, they just are not LISTENING. My God is real. My Sight is real. My conversations with my soul are real. How can you force someone to listen to a language they do not understand? How can you force them to listen to a rock when they believe the rock has no soul, even though God made it, too.

I had thought The Shot gave me the Sight because it was enhancing my photographic memory, but perhaps it wasn’t my memory that was being enhanced at all. Maybe all those earlier visions from the pasts of my ancestors straight back to Matter and Antimatter themselves weren’t tapping into the memories hidden inside my DNA like I had theorized, but to empower my creativity by allowing it to tap into the full story, to see more of the history and explore a greater variety of possible futures. I know anything that can happen can happen. I know every possible future exists. I know the conditions of the present can change at every moment and depend on those that witness it.

I just need help putting it all together.

I need to find the Resistance, and if it’s not there… the next thing I may need to create is The Resistance.

The Resistance might be too bold. I’m definitely no marketing genius, I could sure use one of those, but fascist regimes are quick to destroy resistances and collectives and unions and groups that might rise up against them. Cults, though. For some reason they love a good cult. Everyone does. I need a good cult name. Like… The Bird’s Nest. The … I need food to think. I keep forgetting to eat.