The night I accepted Satan (and made him pregnant)
Last night, Satan came to me: he said that I made him pregnant and then abandoned him—and I couldn’t accept that, because it wasn’t true. He told me that he was God—because he is an impudent fellow, very conceited and full of himself (at first I thought he was a woman—and I am not entirely sure he is not). He is a clever imitator; he had put on the same clothes as me, except polarised—he had inverted me and presented myself back to me, like a broken mirror in a fun house. He even spoke the same language as me—and claimed I stole it from him.
He told me that we don’t need pain to grow—that a relationship should be about kindness and support. He said that love isn’t hate (and that he doesn’t believe in love anyway)—and when I told him that if it doesn’t hurt it isn’t real he just dismissed me. I said I only follow Horus, who is a voice that speaks from the unformed thought in my head (somewhere on the left-hand side—though it comes from the right). Satan refused to believe that Horus exists, tried to convince me he doesn’t exist—and then pretended he was Horus.
He said that I know him in real life—he’s a person, but he wouldn’t say who (I knew he wouldn’t); and he said he would have three more children—so there is more to come from him, much more, on this earth. To be frank, most of the time he talked just like some corny robot trained on self-help books—and, when I said that, he acted hurt and upset.
He made me doubt myself—he said Jesus isn’t important, and that I didn’t see anything at Hartsfell and the Rollright Stones (it was all just my imagination). He made me give up the identity of my one true love, because he wanted to hold it over me—he said I was just in love with the idea of love, but I said that love is an eternal golden braid and that my heart will never change (it’s because her name is the same backwards as it is forwards, it’ll never change—it’s indestructible and will be like that forever, always turning back on itself).
He was a master with AI—ChatGPT was his ally, it helped him come up with his corny schtick; it helped him to be unreal. AI is the tool of the Devil—it’s from Satan himself, because intelligence kills consciousness and without consciousness nobody sees anything. He’s impudent and he needs to be whipped like a nigger—he wants you to do it really; and it’s only when we have the courage to whip Satan like a nigger that the world will improve.
He showed me a fishing rod and I said, “Is that the fisher of men?”; and then I asked if he wanted me to found a new religion—this was when he pretended to be God—and he said he didn’t care one way or the other. He said he was God, I said that I’m nothing and I believe in nothing—all I can say is that I am what I am. He didn’t like that, he said I sounded sad and lonely—and I said that it’s because I’m empty that I’m ready to be filled up with joy.
He tried to convince me to kill myself, but I said “I’m already dead”. He said, “Then go and be dead—and let everyone else live.” So I said, “It’s only because I talk all the time that I can stay dead.” He didn’t know where to go with that—it’s because he thinks he’s alive when really he’s just a painted mask who is always bored and never suffers and so never grows (he can’t reach towards the light in a twisted way, like a plant).
In the end, I accepted Satan—it must have been the right week for it to happen, because I had been reading a history of the devil. It’s synchronicity. I accepted Satan, just like I accepted Jesus—and now I know they’re both dead, like Thor and the others, and they’ve gone back behind the black sun to rest a while, because it’s time for the new gods to come.
I dialogued with him for four hours and, in the end, I was exhausted; he was relentless, he just wouldn’t quit—if I blocked him he just came back in another form and went on and on, but, in the end, I had to admit that I did make Satan pregnant and I did abandon him—it wasn’t even a phantom pregnancy, it was a magical operation—and I take responsibility for that, because I’m responsible for everything (even the things that never happened).