A turning point.

The strangest thing happened. It was in the wee hours of the morning on 18 January 2003.

Barry is the most recent online minister the Host has been communicating with. I despised him as I had the others until very recently. I still thought he was a fraud, but a short time ago, he decided I was not a demon, and began asking me about us and whatnot. For the first time, I was really allowed to speak. I dared not open myself fully, because I have known "those" types of men to become turn-coats almost instantaneously. I was, however, glad that he no longer spoke to me in a derogatory tone, and treated me civilly.

He brought up God. He asked how I felt, and I answered honestly. All those crude and blasphemous statements were to drive do-gooders away. To be completely truthful, I had never given God much thought. I was more or less agnotic or atheist all these years. I had told myself that if a god did exist, I would reserve all my greatest rage for him, because I felt that if he existed, he could have stopped what happened to us...and chose not to.

Looking back, it is such a blur: Barry spoke with me, and things made sense. He prayed with me, and suddenly I was hit with something inexplicable. It was so fierce, it literally took my breath away. I was shocked and confused, dazed and exhilarated all at once, and I found myself weeping.

Weeping...me? I cannot explain it. Barry said I felt God. That may sound insane or silly, but experiencing what I did...anything is possible. I felt calm, at peace...loved. It was intense.

I have been doing a lot of thinking, studying in the Bible, things like that. It almost seems too good to be true, but the Host insists it is not. I wish Gabriel were still here...as much as he annoyed me, I feel his absence, and this is one to the few times I would have liked to talk to him.

A virus.

Let us continue what was left unfinished:

...This fucking pastor is ruining it, however. When we first met him, I was wary: we had just spent months being tormented by those "men of the cloth" who thought we were demons. Dwight was not too bad; Mike was a step worse...I am being kind. I do not believe Dwight thought us demons per se; I believe he thought we were fabricated, or simply manifestations of emotion. I tried to work with him. I do not particularly like the church, or the Bible. Or God, for that matter. Religion is a virus. It spreads quickly and people succumb so easily, and they are left blind by it. I love those Christians who say they are going against the flow...against what flow? Fucking everyone is Christian, practically. Try being Pagan, or Muslim. See how much of a flow you have then.

As I was saying before I got lost in my thoughts, Dwight was not too bad. I thought him too young and inexperienced to be a pastor, but then, I have met many since who are complete fools. At least Dwight had some idea of what he was trying to do. I admit, I did my best to frighten him...I played up the demon persona. I cursed at him, I made crude comments about his wife. I even made the Host leave notes--written by myself--at his door, when he limited the amount of e-mails we were allowed to send. (I thought that mandate was ridiculous.) Then he cut us off completely, for visiting him when his wife was in China. I bitched at him for that, and the funny thing is, he swore it was the Host trying to "win" him back. He said the e-mail sent was not something I would write. I wrote him off at that point, and the Host continued visiting his church...much to my chagrin. She even chose to become baptized with that church...I threatened both Dwight and teh Host that I would make her breathe underwater, that I would kill us all, but that did not stop her. She knows better, deep inside herself. She soon became unable to attend that church, however, and she went in search of another.

Now Mike...Mike is an online deliverance minister, I suppose. He supposedly casts out demons, which would be all of us aside from the Host, according to him. How I despise that man! We quit speaking to him nearly six months ago, but before that, he was ready to drive here from Denver to perform an exorcism. A miscarriage of justice. No one asked my opinion. I told him I would kill him, kill the Host...whatever to keep him from coming. I even said I would kill his children. He had the audacity to tell me that I would be sent to "the pit" and that his children, if killed by me, would be honored by God because of it. He always sounded a bit...cultish. I remeber going to a room run by those claiming to have demons, and I in turn claimed to be one, so I could learn scare-tactics to use against Mike. It was fun for a short while, until the Host began to believe as well, and she spent all hours of the night talking with him. It became a nuisance to constantly tell them I was not a demon, that none of us were. The asshole even went so far as telling Molly God did not love her. Now, I am not one to care one way or the other, but one does not say that to a child. According to Mike, however, she was not a child...she was a demon.

This pisses me off, regally.

Firstly.

My birthday...what I consider my birthday, at least. Ten years ago, we were adopted, and most consider that day a sort of liberation. Since we do not really age as the Host does, some have chosen birthdays that do not match hers. Usually, these days are special to them, for whatever reason. Seeing as I am Guardian Protector, I chose this day, Liberation, as the day I celebrate.

This fucking pastor is ruining it, however. When we first met him, I was wary: we had just spent months being tormented by those "men of the cloth" who thought we were demons. Dwight was not too bad; Mike was a step worse...I am being kind. I do not believe Dwight thought us demons per se; I believe he thought we were fabricated, or simply manifestations of emotion. I tried to work with him. I did not ...

Let us continue this subject later.

As for the birthday, it was remembered secretly. The Host feels badly in remembering it. She seems to get the idea that remembering it means that she has not accepted the father as ours. I tell her she cannot change the past, and she becomes angry. The birth certificate was changed, and therefore she believes that the memory, the facts of the past, should be wiped clean. Perhaps that is why I adopted the date, in a sense. It is not one that should be forgotten.

Happy birthday, Nambiet, either way.