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April 24, 2007 - Freedomain Radio - Stefan Molyneux
39:24
728 Death by Neglect
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Time Text
Good evening, everybody. Hope you're doing well.
It's Steph, 24th of April 2007.
Just before six, this is a re-record.
I tried this at lunch, but got some crackly bits, so we'll do this again.
This is a brave and detailed letter to a gentleman's father.
I've asked his permission to read it, and he's given it, which I really appreciate.
Without any further ado, I'll read through the letter, and then we'll talk about what I think is some of the hidden stuff in the letter that I think would be important.
This is long.
Three cheers if you make it through.
I've had a hard time making it through writing it.
I guess some of the emotions that hit towards the end of the letter crept up two therapy sessions ago, but not to this degree.
A word of preface on something I reference in the letter.
My father's family was emotionally distant.
Grandpa X was in his 50s when my dad was born, and there was, in general, a coldness in the house.
Grandma X never left the house and may have been clinically depressed.
I didn't write it with plans on sending it, but might it be worth doing?
Probably not. On with the letter.
Dad. How are you?
Heck of a weekend, eh? First time the Red Sox swept the Yankees at Fenway since 1990, if I remember correctly.
NESN played one of their Red Sox Classics games before Sunday's game.
It was the August 2000 game against the Devil Rays, the one where Pedro hit the first batter, causing a brawl, then retired 24 in a row before giving up a hit to start the bottom of the ninth.
It was the same game where the Tampa Bay pitcher threw behind Derbach and was ejected.
And the next pitcher, next pitch, hit him.
That was one of Pedro's best games.
Heck of a game to watch. So, as you know, I started going to therapy over the past month or two.
One of the things, interestingly, that keeps coming up is you.
I really expected it to be more about mom, but here are just a few little in-jokes in our family that I think shouldn't be jokes, or at least I'd like to treat them seriously for just a few minutes.
One is that I and my siblings always seem to address mom when we're speaking, even when it's something you wanted to know.
Unless we're talking baseball or something like that, my eyes always tend to drift towards mom's side.
Of the dinner table. Every so often mom will say, hey don't look at me, look at your father.
Which is completely right.
It's polite to look at the person you're actually addressing.
Why is it that I do that?
I think it's because you've always withdrawn every time I try to show emotion.
What sticks out in my mind the most is that growing up Whenever my sisters and I would have a fight, you would rustle your newspaper and walk out of the room.
That sent a clear message.
Emotions were not to be tolerated.
Every expression of emotion only earned your withdrawal, and that's not what I needed.
I needed to learn how to deal with conflict.
I needed to learn principles, universality.
I needed to learn how to express my emotions, and I never learned that.
There's a reason that when I was in middle school I never told you I was feeling suicidal or that I attempted suicide.
Your response to the emotions that didn't please you was withdrawal, so why would I reach out to you when I was in distress?
Instead of dealing with your emotional baggage from your childhood, you inflicted it on me.
And that makes me And suddenly a well of emotion came seemingly from nowhere, and I had to raise my hands from the keyboard to my face, mid-sentence, to catch the torrent of tears and mucus that suddenly appeared.
Ten minutes of intermittent sobbing later I continue.
And that makes me feel incredibly angry.
I feel neglected.
I feel failed. I feel robbed.
I feel like I am half the person I should be.
I feel like you broke my legs and let the mend crooked now as an adult.
I have to break my legs again and set them straight.
I started reading a book by Alice Miller and I think that she captured what I felt growing up.
Even as an older child, this type of child was not allowed to say or to even think.
I can be sad or happy whenever anything makes me sad or happy.
I don't have to look cheerful for someone else and I don't have to suppress my distress or anxiety to fit other people's needs.
I can be angry and no one will die or get a headache because of it.
I can rage when you hurt me without losing you.
I don't know how to close this letter.
I thought that I should let you know how I feel.
You're 57. You may be too old to change.
Excuse me. Is it fair to expect you to acknowledge a 21-year long failure, not to mention similar failures to my two siblings?
Maybe not. I'm not writing in hopes of getting an explanation.
I'm not writing in hopes of getting an apology.
I'm writing this because I need to say it, because I need to acknowledge it, because I need to overcome it.
I need to re-break the leg you broke so I can heal it properly.
This letter was an attempt to break my leg.
The next year of therapy will be the first step in healing it.
What closing line to use?
Love? I don't feel love for you.
Yours? You wouldn't have me.
Not really, anyway.
And besides, I've given up trying to offer myself to you in any real way for quite some time.
Your son? Accurate, but not something I want to stress.
I've got it. A human being worthy of love and respect.
Bob. Well thank you so much of course for being so open and so generous in your conversation and in your communication with regards to what happened with your dad.
Now there are people who are out there Who really do...
Again, I have a tough time understanding this letter.
And I'd like to... Maybe you won't.
Maybe this is just my feeling.
But I think that there are going to be people out there who have a very, very tough time understanding this letter.
And the reason for that is that there's no overt trauma here.
There's no overt trauma.
It's like that movie Girl Interrupted.
Girl Interrupted is an interesting film.
Of course, a great portrayal of a sociopath by someone who's almost a sociopath, certainly borderline.
But there's no big secret, right?
Most psychological movies think...
Equus or ordinary people or the goodwill hunting.
There's a secret, right?
There's a secret. And once the secret is revealed, then the healing begins.
And in Girl Interrupted, of course, interesting, because there's no secret.
There's no secret. Nobody knows.
Nothing is revealed. I'm not revealing anything to say that nothing is revealed, but...
The healing that is required does not require the revelation of a secret.
And it is those with the fewest secrets to keep who really do have the hardest time dealing with their past, in my humble opinion.
I mean, I came from a pretty hysterical family, so some of my emotions are, I guess, relatively easy to identify.
For me, it was more around roping the whirlwind than raising the dead.
And this is, I think, the challenge that this gentleman has with his family history.
Let us be enormously sensitive to the people who had withdrawn parents, to the people who had parents who did not speak, who coldly disapproved, who withdrew, who punished with silence, who killed with the soft blankets of eternal indifference.
Those are the people that we really, I think, need to have the greatest sympathy for.
And what this gentleman went through In so many ways, it's harder than what most of us went through.
It's certainly harder than what I went through.
And so I'm going to talk a little bit about why I think this is such a challenging familial situation.
And then you can let me know what you think.
And I hope that this is helpful to those of you who are like, well, what are these hysterics complaining about their families for?
Mine was, you know, just distant, but blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Now let's have a look at the family history that is embedded within this letter and is mentioned either in the introductory paragraph or early on in the letter.
So we have Grandfather X who is married to Grandmother X. Grandmother X... is someone who can't leave the house, doesn't leave the house.
Technically, this is sort of agoraphobia, social anxiety disorder.
It's a pretty phobic and, in this case, fairly debilitating kind of problem.
Like, it's a mental illness, right?
This is a mental illness. Somebody who can't leave the house is suffering from an acute form of mental illness.
And I mean, I don't even know how to say this in a way that denormalizes it.
I don't know. If you have a kid who contracts TB from something and is becoming sickly in front of you and is turning various unpleasant and unhealthy looking shades of color and is losing weight and his hair is falling out and this is your 12-year-old kid and you do nothing!
You do nothing!
And then...
What happens is somebody comes along, maybe a cousin or something, and says, oh, you know, your son is, like, really not well.
You really should take him to a hospital.
He's looking, like, near to death's door.
and you fold your newspaper with an angry slam, and you stalk out of the room.
And you do nothing, and you say nothing, You punish with the greatest parental threat, which is withdrawal.
You punish anybody who mentions anything about the person whose soul or body or mind is expiring in the shadow of such murderous indifference.
There's someone in my wife's community.
I won't sort of get into any details.
There's this woman. She's fairly elderly, I guess.
She's in her early 70s.
And she is pathologically afraid of dentists and doctors, so she's not seen a dentist for I don't know how long, and her teeth are just horrendous.
And she also has a massive cyst growing on her back, like huge, like unbelievable.
Like she's got a backpack on.
And I was over there, and I saw this woman, and...
The children were all sort of being herded up to her.
And the children, of course, were like, I don't want her.
She's hairy. She's smelly.
And she's like...
And of course, what was occurring, right?
Well, obviously, this woman was rotting to death.
In the very center of this community, oh, that's all about love and family and togetherness, right?
This woman is rotting to death.
And the children are perfectly aware that this woman is rotting to death in front of everyone, and they are protesting.
And, of course, they're all being like, no, no, no, she loves you.
Oh, she's got a candy. Oh, they were just tricking and lying and bullying to get the children to go up and to kiss this freak show, right?
This leprous, leprous woman.
So, I mean, of course, the first thing I said was, what the hell?
You know, right after the social interaction.
I was like, what the hell's wrong with this community?
Like, why aren't you people doing anything about it?
This is horrendous. Oh, you know, she's afraid.
She doesn't do this. She doesn't do this.
She gets very angry and so on.
It's like, yes, so?
You know, this is the disgusting and revolting thing about communities, particularly sort of extended collective family communities.
So, this woman, everybody says, well, you see, Steph, she's scary, right?
She gets upset if people confront her about her phobias and say that she should go to a dentist and that she should go to a doctor.
So, we don't confront this person, right?
We don't deal proactively with this.
What we do is we don't talk about it and everybody pretends that nothing's happening and we force the children who are telling the truth to...
To act as if nothing's happening.
So they have no problem bullying people.
They just bully the children.
They don't bully the matriarchs, right?
They have no problem overriding people's wishes, right?
Well, we don't want to confront her because she gets very angry.
It's like, okay, but you can ride roughshod over the natures of the children, right?
That's not a problem. It just makes my skin crawl with rage, this kind of stuff.
But... This is a murderous, a murderous impulse.
There is murderous impulses right at the core of this kind of stuff.
As I mentioned in a podcast a couple of days ago, if I'm walking past a pond and a child is drowning and I don't turn my...
I see the child's drowning, but I continue to walk on, clearly I would be...
I mean, completely immoral, of course, but there would be this cold mask of rage...
That my face would be, right?
And if your child is dying of anorexia, 110 pounds, 100 pounds, 90 pounds, 80 pounds, liver failure, teeth falling out, well, if you don't bring that child to a doctor, to a specialist, if you just act as if nothing is occurring, what is the moral fact of what you're doing?
What is the moral fact of what you're killing?
You're a murderer. You're a murderer.
If you have somebody locked in your basement and that person is not getting any food and is starving to death.
And if your children come up to you and say, Dad, there's this guy in the basement.
He's going to die if you don't give him food.
And you get up and you stalk out of the room or you hit them or you scream at them or you yell at them or you snap at them or you undermine them or you humiliate them.
Well, clearly what's happening is that you want the guy in the basement to die and you're pissed off at anybody who says anything else, who questions or who points out.
So you're the most cowardly form of murderer.
That you wish for people to expire and you don't even want to admit your murderous impulses.
So when we look at this family history, we see a grandmother crippled in the throes of a debilitating and horrifying mental illness.
Can't leave the house.
That's significant. That's significant.
That's seriously mentally ill, expiring in a shadow, drowning in a pond.
And the family is...
It's like the grandmother's dropped down and having a seizure.
Everyone just steps around the grandmother and just keeps chit-chatting away about the baseball and the weather and what we had for lunch and whether I should color my hair.
And everyone's just stepping around, this old woman flopping around like a fish on the bottom of a boat on the ground.
What is that? That is a family that wishes to kill.
That is a murderous family.
And so there's this grandmother who's crippled with debilitating mental illness and no one does anything and no one talks about it.
Oh gee, maybe, maybe.
I wonder if she was just a little bit depressed.
You know, she may have been clinically depressed.
She never left the house. She may have been clinically depressed.
And I don't mean to mock Bob, the writer of the letter here, because I'm just really working as hard as I can to try and help denormalize this situation.
When somebody is mentally ill in a family and everybody steps around it and nobody talks about it and nobody gets this person help, it's fucking murderous.
It's fucking murderous.
And this, of course, continues on.
This, of course, continues on.
So the next generation, Bob's father, is, well, that which displeases me, I eliminate.
If my children are fighting, I will get up, snap the paper shut, and stalk out of the room, leaving trails of radioactive rage in my wake.
If something displeases me, if something is not positive or pleasant for me, if something isn't easy for me, if something isn't to my satisfaction, then I will fuck it up.
I will fuck it over. This is murderous.
This is murderous. And what happens to the guilt of the people who...
I mean, this is the 21st century, right?
I mean, so this happened with the grandmother over the last 20, 30, 40 years.
And this guy's in his 20s, right?
Early 20s. So it must have happened the last 20 years.
So since like 1987, let's say.
This is not the Middle Ages.
Dr. Phil's on TV. There are about 8 million self-help books out there.
Mental illness has been destigmatized.
But nothing was said, nothing was done.
And do you know why? Of course, right?
I mean, you know why. And I'm not telling you anything you don't know.
I just want you to know it.
The reason that your grandmother could not leave her house was there were family crimes that were debilitating her conscience.
And the reason that nobody could get her help was that nobody wanted these family crimes to come out.
This is how we kill people.
We seal them up in a tomb of secrecy and we stand over the grave till the end of time.
That is the nature of far, far, far, far too many families.
Why was your grandmother so depressed?
Was she raped when she was a child?
Was she beaten by your grandfather?
Was he a drinker? Was she a drinker?
Was she a drug user? Was she a drug user?
Was she guilty and paralyzed because she had been abusive to her own children?
I mean, these things, nobody ever talks about it.
Nobody ever knows. Nobody wants this person to get help because they don't want the secrets to come out.
They don't want the secrets to come out.
It's exactly the same as if you're starving your child.
You don't want the child to go to the hospital because the first thing that's going to happen when your child goes to the hospital is someone in a position of authority with the position to hurt you is going to say, oh my god, this person is starving his child.
That's why people who beat their children don't take them to the hospital if the beating goes too far because it's very clear that it's going to be seen immediately that this is a beating.
This is why these families circle around like black jackals in the night.
They circle around and they simply refuse to get anyone any help because they're guilty for what they have done.
And I don't know what this is, but nobody just ends up afraid to leave their house.
This is a significant nightmare of core abuse that is occurring within your family.
And rather than anyone getting help, all they do is they pretend that nothing happened.
Nothing happened. Oh, she's fine.
She just doesn't feel like going out.
Oh, she's fine.
She likes it here. She's got her music.
She's got her liquor. She's got her opium.
She's fine. Everything's fine.
Everything's wonderful. Don't talk about it.
Don't, don't, don't be silly.
Let's turn on the baseball game and have a great time.
This is murderous. Somebody who chit-chatters about nothing when somebody is struck with mental illness with a debilitating form of spiritual murder is themselves the murderer.
Once you understand that, and I don't want to drill the point too far deep because we've got a little further to go, but once you understand that, then I think it can be a little bit clearer to understand what it's like to grow up in this murderous bear trap of a family.
And I think that that explains a little bit more helpfully why this poor young man ended up suicidal.
Because he was raised in a cave of murderers.
How else could he be?
How else could he be? There's two significant phases of spiritual murder that occur with children and teenagers.
And the first is during the period of ego growth that occurs sort of 18 months to three years.
It's called the terrible twos where you have your willpower, you learn the word no and so on.
This is the first phase of significant crushing of the children.
And the second phase that occurs is during puberty, right?
So when you hit puberty, there's a latency period from sort of the age of 5 or 6 to sort of 10 or 11 where nothing much goes on.
You don't have a lot of hormones racing around your system.
There's not any particular kind of massive growth.
The brain is sort of readying itself for the big, the brain and the body are readying themselves for the big push of puberty.
But we are usually too young to remember how we were crushed when we were toddlers.
But it sure as hell comes back again when we hit puberty.
Then we must develop a self.
And then the lack of preparation that is endemic to our family, the screwed-upness that is part of our family, which we can kind of survive during our latency period because the demands aren't that intense and our emotions aren't that strong.
But when we hit puberty, though, oh my God!
Then, if we have been significantly badly raised, we hit a total brick wall.
And the deficiencies within our parenting come very solidly into our consciousness.
When we hit puberty, right?
So, to me, it's no accident that this gentleman around puberty or shortly thereafter began to feel suicidal because he needed to grow, but he was around people who opposed his very existence, who opposed his existence.
The opposite of existence is not death.
The opposite of life is not death, because death is nothing.
You don't exist. I mean, a rock is not dead, right?
And when we're a body, we're just like a rock.
The opposite of life is not death.
The opposite of life is anti-life.
The opposite of being is not being dead, is having every single thing that you want, like, desire, feel, think and express, opposed.
And the worst form of that is to oppose through indifference.
So the greatest affront to life is to be ignored.
And I don't mean like, oh, there are people who aren't listening to my podcast.
They're ignoring me, those evil bastards.
Well, yes, they are evil bastards.
But what I mean is that when you are a parent, you have created a child who is dependent upon you and so on.
And then if you oppose that child's nature, existence, being, thoughts, desires, dreams, passions, inclinations, curiosities...
Everything. If you oppose that child's existence through indifference, there's stone evil.
And it is the source, to me, of the greatest evils in the world.
And I don't mean this in terms of this gentleman, but for the people who don't have the same kind of strength, or maybe who don't have access to the same kind of resources, though most people do, and I think it's more personal strength in this situation.
They... This is the rage, right?
The rage comes, the murderousness comes out of being ignored.
Because there is no accident in being ignored.
There's no accident.
Everybody knows exactly what not to talk about.
When there's a family problem, when there's a family crime, when somebody is expiring in the shade of mental illness, everybody knows exactly that they shouldn't talk about accidents.
Nothing is accidental.
It's like what we were talking about two podcasts ago, about how we can map the virtues of the world through the opposite effect.
And in this situation, we map the darkness of our family by groping around the edges of shadows.
We map the heart of our family by plunging into darkness.
And we know what is important to the family by that which is not talked about.
And even in this letter, you can see that Bob here has to pay the tribute of trivia to his father.
Oh, there was this baseball game and this and that and the other.
And that is very interesting, of course, that minutiae and families are just so...
I mean, you know, it's funny.
I mean, if I had one major complaint about family...
Other than all the stuff we've talked about before, my major complaint about family is just how mind-crushingly dull it is.
How you just can't talk about anything.
You can't have any questions.
You can't talk about anything of depth.
You can't express your emotions.
Everybody just stands around like rigid, sad, empty little robots, laughing and chatting and nothing.
It is so...
boring.
That is the greatest sin of family.
Because there is rage in boredom.
Boredom is rage spread thin, as the saying goes, and I think that's quite true.
That is the anti-life.
That is the power over life that dead souls want.
They want to kill other souls.
Dead souls, the people who have been smashed and destroyed themselves...
That which we do not accept, that which we do not deal with, we reproduce.
These are the kind of parents who, when you're laughing exuberantly as a kid, they say, oh, settle down.
You're making a fool of yourself.
You just know how ridiculous you look.
And when you feel envy, they say, oh, there's nothing to be envious about.
You've got a great life. And when you feel sad, they say, oh, what's the matter?
Is your life really tough now that you're seven?
Duh, don't worry about it.
Nothing bad can happen to you.
There's no reason to feel sad.
Good lord. Reason to feel sad.
You're seven. What, you gotta pay taxes?
You gotta go to work? Give me a break.
Sad. Stop playing sad.
And when you feel frightened, they say, oh god, don't be such a chicken.
There's nothing to be scared of.
Everything you feel must be opposed in a cowardly, underhanded, vicious, viper-under-the-skin-like kind of way.
And it is so vile!
Everything you feel must be mocked.
Everything you desire must be ridiculed.
Or people must just be indifferent to it.
And what does that do? That corners you into the ultimate gulag of trivia.
What can we talk about?
Hey, I got a new barbecue, and so-and-so is sending so-and-so to school, and so-and-so bought a new house, and those carpets are...
Really great. What do you think the Red Sox are going to do this year?
And did you see this movie?
And it just makes your head want to explode.
And that is the greatest sin of family because boredom is the opposite of life.
Not the opposite of death.
Death at least is not boring.
Ha! Boredom, dusty, minutiae, little, trivia, emptiness.
This is how they hold dominion over vital, powerful, creative, intelligent, deep and wondrous human souls, which we all possess.
How is it that these dead shells hold power over the glory of the human soul?
Well, they reduce it to trivial emptiness.
And they have this incredible nose for values.
They have this incredible, snorting, satanic nose for anything that will actually consist or compose of or contain values.
Anything that is real, anything that is genuine, anything that is spontaneous, anything that is honest, they see right away and they react ferociously and instantaneously.
To crush it. To kill it.
Crush, crush, crush, crush.
Whittle, whittle, whittle, kill, kill, kill.
And so, after a childhood and an early youth of being opposed mindlessly and blindly in every conceivable nook and cranny that he might want to expand his compressed and claustrophobic soul into, this young man became suicidal.
And how could he not? He was being killed anyway.
And we will choose a real death over the living death.
We will choose the real death over the living death for sure.
And that is why this gentleman became suicidal.
To have your primary caregiver oppose everything that you are, oppose every spontaneous feeling and thought and impulse and desire that you have in a grinding, endless, blind, dusty, crawling, crushing wall of indifference and scorn and light mockery and hummina, hummina, hummina.
Of course there's a reason you couldn't look at your dad.
Your dad wanted you dead!
you Thank you.
And you think I'm being hyperbole.
You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not.
I'm really, really not.
I'm really, really not.
The murderousness of parents is something that is entirely, entirely unguessed at.
The depth of the murderousness of parents is entirely unguessed at in society.
It is one of the greatest and darkest secrets of society.
That parents would literally rather see their children dead than truly alive.
Truly spontaneous, truly original, truly thoughtful, truly creative.
They would rather see them dead than alive.
Because life and vitality threatens the dead, and that's how I know when I say that you have no idea how beautiful you all look from here.
I know what I'm talking about, right?
I may not in many things, but in this I do.
That the vitality that I express and possess is not something that you want to kill.
And I certainly have had my share of people who are caustic and negative and this and that.
But what do I care, right?
I mean, they can just go back into their little shells of living deaths.
But you people, my brilliant, beautiful compatriots in these chariots of truth, you have no idea how beautiful you look because...
Vitality is something that draws you and something that you love in yourself, which means you have survived, that you have not become an enemy of vitality and that which brings joy and benevolence and richness and depth to life.
We are raised into graves, my friends.
We are raised into graves.
The world is nothing but coffins.
The world is walking empty coffins, with echoes of trivia rolling back and forth among the dusty worms and the old bones.
And this is the world, and these are the dead, that we are supposed to obey, and we are supposed to lick and extinguish our essential fires for the sake of these dead, ashen trees.
So to me, it's not surprising that this gentleman became suicidal. .
And there's not much more to say about this letter.
I've certainly said quite a bit in this podcast.
With one exception, and it's not an inconsequential exception, so I'll try and keep it brief.
Ah, my friend.
At the end of the letter, you say to your dad, I'm going to sign off with this phrase.
A human being worthy of love and respect.
A human being worthy of love and respect.
I don't doubt that you are.
I mean, and the fact that you're willing to post this and the fact that you're willing to let me root around with my fire stick of philosophy...
In this tinderwood is, to your credit, and I, you know, to the degree with which my admiration, my rank admiration means anything to you, I can't tell you how much I admire you for breaking the cycle of this dead wheel and these bodies that roll around from generation to generation like a hellish water wheel.
I can't tell you how much I admire you for breaking with this.
It is a wonderful and beautiful thing to see.
But... If a man was your torturer, if a man captured you and kept you for years and was your torturer and openly and repeatedly expressed a desire to kill you,
I don't know that it would do you any good to try and get this torturer to understand or to see in any way, shape or form that you are a human being Worthy of love and respect.
That is not to see the evil.
That is not to see the murderousness.
that is to ignore the torture.
If I were a woman who had been raped, I doubt that I should wish for my rapist to understand or to accept or to see that I was a person worthy of not being raped.
If I hung one single shred of my self-esteem...
On the understanding of murderers and the empathy of sociopaths, I would be falling down a very dark and bottomless well indeed, and I don't want you to do that.
The anger and the sorrow and the rage that you feel raised in this den of hellish bandits is entirely appropriate, and they will never give you anything.
Except torture and spiritual murder.
They will never see you as a human being worthy of love and respect.
Your mother, your father, grandparents, if they're still alive.
I don't know about your siblings.
I would not put one shred of my self-esteem and of my value as a human being on attempting to communicate something about my value to a sociopath.
And I know you haven't sent the letter, and I agree with you that there's no point sending it.
Thank you.
And I know that you were trying to feel your way towards something here.
I would never, ever show a need to a sociopath.
And when you say, a human being worthy of love and respect, you're saying, I need love and respect.
What is that to a sociopath?
Great! Now I know how to fuck him up!
Don't show any weakness to a sociopath.
Don't show any needs to evil people.
Don't. If you recognize the grim and bloody danger that you were in the danger of absolute annihilation which culminated in your suicidality if you understand the danger that you were in the predators who raised you the people who dragged you from the womb and dumped you in a coffin Thank you so much for listening.
As always, I look forward to your donations.
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