A BALL OF DELUSION, PART 1

The Nicolaitans were not a secluded sect in the Old or New Testament of ancient Northern or Western Alkebulan. This cult did not come into being until 1983 after what I called an abomination of desolation occurring in late May of that same year. Jezebel saw an opportunity to avenge herself of someone who spent the previous 2 ½ years trying to be a brother to Ms. Cruella Deville; she had no inclination that I wanted to see her walk without shame. When you bend over backwards to please someone who has the spirit of a witch looking to wreak hell in your life, they will rethink everything they've done if they’re human. I’m sorry, Apostle. I see how you, TOTAL PRAISE, Yisrael, and the gentiles perceive me. There's no reason to lament; this is a confession. On a Saturday afternoon at the behest of my mother, I was told to go to a video arcade gallery and pick up Winnie the Hoe. I get there and start looking for her in an arcade crowded with middle schoolers with bad BO. I found my sister and told her. “Momma told me to bring you home, Nicole.” For some reason, this little Prada-wearing devil decided it was an opportune time to show off her rear in front of her peers, power tripping at my expense. She cursed and shouted that she wasn't going anywhere with a cascade of obscenities. After surveying the situation and listening to Wolfman Black, I knew if I grabbed this spawn of Satan and dragged her out of the arcade, security would have had me arrested. I left the arcade with the double edged sword of Damocles suspended above my head, thinking my mom was going to take away my car because I didn’t come home with Cujo. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. My mom hadn't whipped me since I was a high school freshman. She could raise her voice to a high-pitched shrill and irritate my nervous system. It was like someone scratching a chalkboard. My blood pressure would rise as I felt the blood rushing between my ears. I’ll take that beating for 2mins Alex. For 3 days I subconsciously meditated over what happened in the arcade; I shouldn't have. My mom bought me a car to drive to school and to work. I used my car to pick up Chuckey’s Bride from cheerleader practice, football games, track and field tryouts, parties, and movie nights with her friends. Occasionally I gave her and her friends money. I took them to fast food restaurants after a movie and paid the bill. I gave my paycheck to my mom, and she gave me an allotted allowance. My mother is blameless for what I did the following Monday after Weekend at Nasty’s. After driving home from school, the first thing I saw lying down on the couch as I opened the door to the den was Delilah, looking like Deniece the Menace. Everything I'd done for her at that point was awash; I jumped on her like Tyson on Givens. I wasn't the perfect brother between her ages of 5 and 11. From September of 1980 up until May of 1983, I tried making amends to a person whose hatred ran deep; she endured trauma. That's how bad I was. The high school I attended during the '78-'79 school year was hell. I screwed up with the school that received me for the 80-81 year after leaving the original that same year with a damaged spirit. They swiftly handed me my ass when I became arrogant and wounded. No one accepted me genuinely except one person; Harold Morris was his name if my memory hasn’t failed. If only. Harold never offended me; we were teammates who stood opposed to each other on the line of scrimmage. He was a giant, meek, but humble soul with a heart. May Yahuah continue to bless you, my brother. I tried to repair the breach that 1st awakening in September at Nightmare High, thinking I was cooler than ice. {Matthew 18:15 Moreover if thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone: if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother}. I didn't receive that, only grief. This is the origin of the Nicolaitans. Your grand leader was created from a dysfunctional family dynamic between her, her brother, and some jerks. Our mother was a blessing and a confidant. I tried to befriend her daughter while she harbored hate. It was the plan of the Most High for me to sleep no less than 40yrs. You’re not the Most High, and I'm not dead yet. Kill me. Sunday was Mother's Day. My mother bought me a Classic Red 442 Cutlass and my sister a vintage 1973 Candy Apple Red Mustang; both had air conditioning. My little sister, Lilith, refused hers because it wasn't the latest model 😵. SHE WAS GIVEN A CLASSIC MUSTANG!!! My mother worked hard to buy us both a car. She had them painted and refurbished, with rebuilt engines and transmissions. My mother is a saint. I'm not worthy to call her Mom. Continue—