Well, if it isn't hell.

I should consider myself fortunate, blessed I guess, while cursed. I say this because I know that I am in hell. Not everyone gets to know these things. Or perhaps they shouldn't know. I can't say the knowledge has helped me exactly.
But I feel that I should preface any and everything I write or say by, "Well, it's hell after all." I mean what can one expect.
My journey here was of my own choosing, more or less. Or, as it's hell after all, perhaps I have just been led to believe that it was my own choosing, rather than a sentence, or judgement call by the 'big guy , , or gal' upstairs.
Background: Back in the early '80's I got very, very ill. Before the illness hit me, I started kinda hearing voices, or hearing thoughts that were seemingly extrinsic to me. I was not too startled, as I had always carried on imaginary conversations with my self and other, very Walter Mitty-like even as I tried to rid myself of the habit. Besides, perhaps that's just what one encounters through life. Especially as I had recently become involved in researching the paranormal, and comparative religions. There's not much sense here, now, to discuss the voices, save the last one. I was in my trailer in California, just down from the college I attended and the question came, quietly, unbidden, succinct, "Where do you want to go when you die?" And I answered equally succinctly, "To hell." I couldn't see that our so-called 'good' God had been very ably compassionate to those of us on this planet. My response seemed to be received with a weighted silence. And at that moment I realized, albeit subconsciously, a number of things. One of which was that 'someone' or 'something' actually was speaking to me and hearing me. Secondly, while the silence was as non-judgemental as any could be especially given the answer, dooming myself, I could sense it filled with foreboding, apprehension, fear or sadness on the part of the interrogatory being.
Shortly after this incident, I was struck with an acute illness, much like a severe flu. I was in bed for nine days, unable to eat, move. I don't remember going to the bathroom even, but probably did. At the end of the nine days, my partner, who seemed not at all compassionate, grabbed me by my arms and pulled me to a sitting position. It hurt my arms' joints very much, but with that pull, the illness was gone. I arose to go take a bath, and was shocked to find myself stripped of every ounce of fat that I had had going in to the illness. My breasts hung like spent sacks. My ass likewise. I looked like a skeleton or something out of a concentration camp. While I was not a pretty picture naked, when I donned clothes, I looked like a young, trim boy and found that quite a few women and many men now found this skinny me, quite attractive. I was suddenly extremely popular, where before, no one ever gave me a second glance. As time went on, I had to wonder why I would be given such a body in hell. I mean I knew that I had died during that illness and my wish had been granted. In fact, in this new body, almost any and all of my wishes were granted! Why would that happen in hell? Did it mean the devil liked me?
to be continued , ,