By the way, I feel like it’s very important to write something that must be written.
I am not mad at God.
For 16 years I’ve had to deal with horrible demons, starting on my senior year in high school. My current age is 33, so I’ve spent almost half my life in an actual death camp. Most Auschwitz prisoners died within weeks of arrival (assuming they were sent to work and not gassed right away), but there were indeed survivors of those who had to do hard manual labor. Their horrible ordeal may have lasted for a year or longer, but not longer than two years. They survived long enough until allied forces arrived and liberated them.
I was tortured every day, day and night, and endured relentless assaults. And not a day passed where the demons didn’t murder an unsaved parallel dimension version of myself, and they enjoyed taunting me by showing my parents screaming in horror as they saw their son’s dead body. One time Satan murdered a 3-year-old me on another dimension, and that prompted God to cry out in horror. All of it happened for 16 years, yet the Holocaust was much shorter.
The sad thing is that no one believes me. They call me mentally ill, or they say I am having hallucinations or vivid dreams or something. But none of that is true. It is all real. At least Holocaust survivors get some console in knowing the whole world knows about what the Nazis did to them. Unfortunately for me, no one on earth today will ever know—or even believe—all the horrors that happened to me, day after day, night after night.
It's easy to be mad at God for not ending my death camp sentence years earlier. But I won’t be: I can’t be mad at God, because God has great plans for me once this nightmare from hell is over with permanently.
Still, victory hasn’t been achieved yet. And by victory I mean reaching the point where no demons ever attach onto me ever again. But I think it’s just on the horizon. I believe God is finished disappointing me every single day for all these years. God is merciful and loving, how could he be any other way?
I am not mad at God.
For 16 years I’ve had to deal with horrible demons, starting on my senior year in high school. My current age is 33, so I’ve spent almost half my life in an actual death camp. Most Auschwitz prisoners died within weeks of arrival (assuming they were sent to work and not gassed right away), but there were indeed survivors of those who had to do hard manual labor. Their horrible ordeal may have lasted for a year or longer, but not longer than two years. They survived long enough until allied forces arrived and liberated them.
I was tortured every day, day and night, and endured relentless assaults. And not a day passed where the demons didn’t murder an unsaved parallel dimension version of myself, and they enjoyed taunting me by showing my parents screaming in horror as they saw their son’s dead body. One time Satan murdered a 3-year-old me on another dimension, and that prompted God to cry out in horror. All of it happened for 16 years, yet the Holocaust was much shorter.
The sad thing is that no one believes me. They call me mentally ill, or they say I am having hallucinations or vivid dreams or something. But none of that is true. It is all real. At least Holocaust survivors get some console in knowing the whole world knows about what the Nazis did to them. Unfortunately for me, no one on earth today will ever know—or even believe—all the horrors that happened to me, day after day, night after night.
It's easy to be mad at God for not ending my death camp sentence years earlier. But I won’t be: I can’t be mad at God, because God has great plans for me once this nightmare from hell is over with permanently.
Still, victory hasn’t been achieved yet. And by victory I mean reaching the point where no demons ever attach onto me ever again. But I think it’s just on the horizon. I believe God is finished disappointing me every single day for all these years. God is merciful and loving, how could he be any other way?
