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Sebastyne

A rock fan. A thinker. A psychic empath and a channel, a Tarot reader. The lover of men, kings, and gods. An eternal romance analyser. A polyandrist. A romantic pervert. (A psycho-spiritual life coach.)

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Organ donations and my lack of will to play

This is one of those reasons why I know everyone would think I'm a horrible person

I get chills at the thought of doctors hovering over my dead body waiting for a permission to harvest my organs, as someone gives them the permission: “That’s what she would have wanted.”

It isn’t, though.

I know it’s… illogical. I won’t be needing them and they could save someone’s life, and still, I don’t want anyone to freaking touch my remains after I go. I don’t know why it is, I simply don’t want them to. I want to go into my grave un-fucking-touched in one piece, preferably cast in resin. 😀

I feel like too much of me would live on, and I want to move onto the next life without missing parts of me. I know that is not logical, again… But I know this… Whenever someone gives anything against their will, it brings more harm to the receiver than what it does good. My heart or lungs could wind up killing someone or bringing them an incredible bad luck or something I don’t know.

I just read a truly touching story about a mother who lost his young son, and when she married, she was surprised by a guest who had her son’s heart beating in his chest. I cried like everyone would. And I cannot bring myself to giving a permission to take my organs after I die, not mine, nor my loved ones… UNLESS… Unless my organ will save one of the people I love, personally, then, all is good under the Sun. But then… All the people I love are men, and I’ve got smaller organs. Is this why? I always picture saving a man’s life because I don’t really care about women… What a bizarre thing. I don’t care about women, but I don’t think I mind having my organs stuck inside a woman. How weird is that? I don’t care about women! Yet, I’m like… Fuck, you worship me as your savior all you fucking want, hey..? That’s why I hate the thought!! I hate the idea that someone would feel grateful to me for saving their life, I don’t want someone I respect to think of me like I was some kind of a fucking saint because I most certainly am not, but if some loser woman wants to think of me like I’m her personal angel, fuck I don’t care.

For a loved one, of course, it’s an entirely different matter, every cell of my being is theirs anyway, to do whatever they damned well please with it, but… To force a man I don’t know, or a child I don’t know into a debt of gratitude towards me, no. Fuck no. Women. Ha! I don’t care!

Isn’t this a revelation and a half.

Yeah, whatever. Take them, it’s not like they’re enough for men anyway, they need big hearts, as they’re much nicer than women. 😀 (I keep talking about a heart but you get the idea.)

(Curious about the woman thing? I hate this female coalition that obligates all women to think of each other like we were some kind of sisters. Fuck that. If a woman is a moronic bitch, her vagina shouldn’t save her from that diagnosis, and I feel no obligation to stand in her corner because we have the same kind of genitals. So this is my current pet peeve number one, the absolute insistence on the part of women that because we’re women, we should like each other, and not only that, for me to be liked by them, despite I’m a woman, I should behave like “a woman” n order to receive their respect and love for me… And their incapacity to understand that their love and respect doesn’t mean jack shit to me, and all my rebellion is not about me feeling down on myself for them not loving me. 😀 All of this in spirit conversations with women, of course, it’s  not like I have a major battle with them online or anything, it’s just that in spirit, everyone’s emotions come crashing through, the real ones, and we’ve been locked into this bitch fight now for years. Starting to get to me that they don’t get the message yet. So I react to their emotions, they react to mine, and it’s all just a big mess. But anyway. Organs. I’ll give them my organs and then they, the approximate five lives one body saves and their immediate families can worship me as their savior for the rest of their lives. I like that bargain. Damned. There’ll be men in that picture… But at least one husband would get a part of a real woman in his bed for a change… LOL. That went over even my sense of appropriateness… I’ll shut up now. :D)

 

 

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It is often impossible to be both polite and truthful at the same time.

Sebastyne

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