Pluto
Cat Extremist
- Dec 27, 2020
- 5,407
It's almost funny the way society judges us extremists as lunatics, never sparing a moment to consider the events leading up to that point. As any extremist will tell you, we are not born this way. This state is the culmination of a years-long process of grooming and radicalisation. Today, I will be publicly exposing the ones who radicalised me.
Event 1
The first event was when I was still stuck living with my parents. It had already been 20-something years of bullying, negligence and cruelty. Despite the toxicity of the environment, I was completely brainwashed to believe I was incapable of leaving; a psychological prisoner. I spent every spare moment on my computer just to escape reality.
Often, there would be a familiar thumping outside my window, followed by feverish scratching. It was her, wanting to come in. I'd open the window and she would keenly come in and sit on my desk beside me. After greeting me, she would curl up on the seat beside me for a snooze. When I slept, I also got the familiar experience of having nowhere to put my legs because of the way she would sleep on my bed.
She passed away in about 2013. It was only then that I realised that she had been my only true family. There is nobody I am keener to be reunited with in the afterlife, if that is a thing.
Time passed. The family had covered up the abuse, excommunicating me from the whole community and I was left to fend for myself, struggling to work with C-PTSD and only being able to access the sorts of jobs that entailed being abused by the public. The few friends I had were abandoning me one by one.
Event 2
Then one day, I was at a local tourist attraction with a friend when I met their calico cat. She and I bonded from day 1 and I got to see her a few times in the following years. I can never forget the way she so enthusiastically ran to me to jump up on my lap. I didn't realise at the time, but I was now being groomed for full radicalisation. The way she would lick me with her little sandpaper tongue to groom me, it was like her fluffy little heart contained within it a vast ocean of pure love. The opposite extreme to my experience of the human world.
The last time I saw her (before she 'retired' from her role there), she slept on me for hours. In a bittersweet finale, I had to get up and leave even though she never wanted me to get up.
However, in the aftermath, I realised that I had now become a fully radicalised cat extremist. I was by now notorious for spreading cat propaganda, militantly pushing a pro-cat agenda, and my primary means of communication was now cat pictures. And yet they dare to call me a lunatic!
To summarise the process:
Before Radicalisation:
After Radicalisation:
Event 1
The first event was when I was still stuck living with my parents. It had already been 20-something years of bullying, negligence and cruelty. Despite the toxicity of the environment, I was completely brainwashed to believe I was incapable of leaving; a psychological prisoner. I spent every spare moment on my computer just to escape reality.
Often, there would be a familiar thumping outside my window, followed by feverish scratching. It was her, wanting to come in. I'd open the window and she would keenly come in and sit on my desk beside me. After greeting me, she would curl up on the seat beside me for a snooze. When I slept, I also got the familiar experience of having nowhere to put my legs because of the way she would sleep on my bed.
Time passed. The family had covered up the abuse, excommunicating me from the whole community and I was left to fend for myself, struggling to work with C-PTSD and only being able to access the sorts of jobs that entailed being abused by the public. The few friends I had were abandoning me one by one.
Event 2
Then one day, I was at a local tourist attraction with a friend when I met their calico cat. She and I bonded from day 1 and I got to see her a few times in the following years. I can never forget the way she so enthusiastically ran to me to jump up on my lap. I didn't realise at the time, but I was now being groomed for full radicalisation. The way she would lick me with her little sandpaper tongue to groom me, it was like her fluffy little heart contained within it a vast ocean of pure love. The opposite extreme to my experience of the human world.
The last time I saw her (before she 'retired' from her role there), she slept on me for hours. In a bittersweet finale, I had to get up and leave even though she never wanted me to get up.
However, in the aftermath, I realised that I had now become a fully radicalised cat extremist. I was by now notorious for spreading cat propaganda, militantly pushing a pro-cat agenda, and my primary means of communication was now cat pictures. And yet they dare to call me a lunatic!
To summarise the process:
Before Radicalisation:
After Radicalisation:
