I have a problem, /x/. Either I'm mentally insane or death isn't real and we move through to a twin of ourselves in another dimension. See, because from the year 1981 when I was born through to 1997, National Socialist Germany won World War 2. What you know as Nazi Germany, but to call it that was a criminal offense. We had a German President, German mayors, German Congress. Yet we spoke English (though many also spoke German). Media was pro German. My elementary and high-school years where for studying the importance of race. The prevalent belief was that gingers had the highest appeal because two blondes reproducing birth a ginger. So it came to pass that my girlfriend in 1997 was a ginger. That was the same year I first died in a car accident. I remember being crushed. The pain. My death. However, I woke up without a scratch. Jennifer was dead. We were 16.
The history from 1997 to 2014 was that Mexicans had won all wars. World War 2. Remember the Alamo meant Mexicans won the battle. We had a Mexican President. All Mayors were Mexican. Media was pro Mexican. Most people spoke Spanish and English. I met a Native American girl in high-school named Michelle. We were friends since 1997. This was all strange, because before that year, I never knew any non-white people whatsoever. My mother in the 2nd dimension tried to convince me I had a black male friend growing up. I never knew him. Michelle married a Mexican, because of course their status was high in the 2nd dimension. He cheated on her by 2014. She left behind a few children and committed suicide. This woman was my best friend. I had actually fallen for her but was pretty much cucked by her love for another man. She killed herself in March. I could tolerate the pain only until July when I set up two charcoal grills in a seedy hotel bathroom. I removed the legs of the grills, set them up, had ice for the heat, duct taped the vent and sealed around the door. Then I lit the grills, laid in the bath of ice, faded away and died once more.
I woke up the next day in July 2014, 14 hours later. In bed. The grills in the bathroom were not lit. The duct tape was pristine and not removed from the plastic wrapping. The suicide note I wrote to my parents wasn't left out on the counter. In fact, it was never written at all. I came to discover over the following months I was in a 3rd dimension because the Irish had defeated England, won World War 2 and conquered most of the known world. There were pubs everywhere. Gaelic was common. Again, Irish President and media and Mayors. I never learned any new language whenever I switched dimensions. Didn't seem necessary because I might die again anyway. So I coped with this from 2014 until 2023. October of 2023, I died yet another time. It was a wreck that crushed the front end of my car. The steering wheel crushed my ribs into my lungs and I died in agony. Then I woke up with the wheel mere centimeters from my chest and pain that only lasted a month. This post October 4th dimension, I don't think I need to tell you who won World War 2 or who are the majority of leadership. This is your dimension. You probably know already.
I have died three times and never know peace from death. What's worse is, my original parents and family must have mourned my old bodies' deaths, because each time, my life history according to family members is in stark contrast to what I actually remember. My father died in October 2022. He's also deceased in this 4th dimension. Everyone I knew who died: grandparents, aunts and uncles, girlfriends, friends. They're all still dead every time I switch. I have checked. This is not even a way to reconnect with people who died. It's miserable. I don't know how many times I must die before I can arrive somewhere they're still alive.
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