The following open letter to Cyberspace was pulled from a Newsgroup, in 1998.  I think it was called "alt.teen.depression" or something. 


It is written by a young  South African man.  He is crying out, singing actually, an anthem for all those who *know* too much for their own good.  They have one foot on this side of the Veil, and the other foot ready to leap into the Multiverse. 


He writes:




ME to cyberspace

Ahh well, seeing as no one visits this NG (newsgroup) it is perfect.
I need an outlet that contradicts my usually violent avenues of release, so to this NG I will post the events that I feel are significant in my life.

about me.
Male 19 y.o.,
suicidal, low self esteem, depressed depressed depressed
Finished high school last year, in uni (versity) but I feel there is no point.
South African born and bred, and an african half breed, I have a violent
image among my peers, although I thiink this is incidental to other things in my life and my physique, Also that I earn money via boxing.

I only seem to be able to make friends with "hardcores"
as they are termed here.
I have a large amount of friends....actually, none of them are real friends, merely aquaintances....who want to call themselves friends, but when it comes to the crunch, I believe their true colours will show.
I now refer to these people as chameleons.

Seem to have more problems than I do.
Dad lost most of his family in less than natural circumstances, He says he's made his peace, but I see revenge in his mind.
Mum is emotionally crippled. A psychiatrist by occupation an nature, she has been forced into retirement because of back problems. I say emotionally crippled because not only has she lost the ability, but the will as well.
My sisters seem to be an oasis in an emotional desert.....seemingly
oblivious to whatever goes on around them, maybe it is the way they deal with it, or they are just too young to fully understand.
They are the only things holding me back though....from completing my purpose.

Life in general.
What are we here for? I really don't know.
All i ever seem to do is talk to this machine, shit into the seas, beat some peoples brains out for money and spend it on drugs or alchohol. (my self prescribed medication). Then there is nothing left to do...I think about killing myself.
Death is everyones ultimate purpose in life, they do not contradict, but are merely conjugates of each other. if it is not one it is the other. Inanimate or not, who is to judge which is better?....or that is what I try to convince myself anyway.

Been there, done that.
I can no longer believe in a magician on a cloud who will come down from the skies and wash away my guilt, sins etc, and take me into a fairy tale land of love and joy and blah blah .
You know the story.
It is either the very weak or the strong who believe this.
The weak who have no other choice, or the strong who force themselves to believe.
I am caught in the middle, I cannot force myself, I am too much the skeptic, although I see no evidence of magicians. For those who fiercely believe, this is merely an opinion, or what i believe.

The soul.
As much as i want, I cannot contact my soul....I want to belive it exists
more than anything in the world, for if it does, it is all our tickets to
salvation, we just need to know it exists.
What is it though...the random sequence of electron sputters in the brain that form a consciousness, or something tangible and separate to our physical being?
I wish I knew, but I'm afraid to find out the truth...this is a is my existence.

the brain.
the curse of the fruit of knowledge.
If we could not reason, did not possess the desire to reason and understand,
to break everything down into it's smallest denominator, maybe our existence would be a lot easier.
We are all cursed, and have to find a way to deal with this disability.
I cannot for I am not that strong.

These seven factors shape my life, as well as bring it to the point of

To anyone who I have not bored to death that has decided to read this
far.... This is merely a release for me, A way that i can come to grips with myself.
It wasn't intended as a piece of literature or sunday afternoon reading. But the thought of another reading this message is giving me the drive behind writing it.

I had to tell someone, and the faceless, nameless cyberspatial masses seem perferct.

<end quote>


Daniel:  I wrote back to this young man, and directed him to "The Star Children," which seemed quite impressive to him.  He said:

"You seem to have learned much.  Reading this has given me some hope.  But he didn't reach out beyond that.  And that was okay." 

There are so many key elements of an awakening Star Child here, not the least of which is an awareness that "I know too much, and I wish it

would go away." 


Readers here might find themselves saying to this young man:  "Well, you may *think* you know a lot, but there are many things that I could tell you to make you feel better."  There might be others who analyze the situation as parental failure.  This fellow certainly does lay a load on the shoulders of his parents. 


It would be very easy to immediately show up in an ambulance for this guy and try to fix him.  However, he does not seem to be asking to be fixed.  Rather, he appears simply to be venting, continuing along in a clear and concise process that requires some catharsis from time to time.  He also is sharing with us all (whoever has ears to listen) the heartsong of the troubled who continually exist amongst us all.


Back in 1992, Spirit sent through a powerful transmission concerning those around us who are in the throes of depression.  It casts a new light upon an old problem.  This, incidentally, is how many of the first transmissions from The Reconnections came through.  They were written as letters to the Oneself that exists here upon the planet.  They were written by all the parts of that Oneself that had to be forgotten in order that the individual fragments might come into physical form. 


See:  The Tragic Ones


Your comments, and/or sharing on this topic would be much-appreciated. 


Daniel Jacob.


Copyright, 1992-2003, by Daniel Jacob.  All Rights Reserved.  May be copied and shared, for purposes of personal growth and/or research.  Any reproduction for profit requires the written permission of Reconnections, Inc.