#sufferings

losing the genetic lottery is not the end of the world, it is definitely not the end of you. Success has many factors and so does becoming a genius. We humans underestimate ourselves, we are nothing but an atom in this ever-so-expanding universe. Biologically, we are made to adapt to survive, and so does everything that is still existing, it is indeed the survival of the fittest, and you still don't understand do you? if a coal can go under immense pressure to become a diamond, then you are made up on atoms, you are made up of cells, and what can you not go through? pressure? sufferings? your sufferings are not the end of you, they are the beginning of your metamorphosis, they are the beginning of a new you, the "you" that survived those sufferings by evolving. Each time you work hard, remember, that you are evolving, you are becoming your new self, and you should welcome each obstacle that comes your way because it is shaping you, it is moulding you, it is making you by breaking you. No i am not bluffing, it is neurologically proven that our neurons evolve for the better when we pick up obstacles. So each challenging task you face, each hard work is one step closer to becoming a genius. 

Today, I was led by an Angel to the chasms of hell. It is a place of great torture; how awesomely large and extensive it is! The kinds of tortures I saw: the first torture that constitutes hell is the loss of God; the second is perpetual remorse of conscience; the third is that one‟s condition will never change; the fourth is the fire that will penetrate the soul without destroying it – a terrible suffering, since it is purely spiritual fire, lit by God‟s anger; the fifth torture is continual darkness and a terrible suffocating smell, and despite the darkness, the devils and the souls of the damned see each other and all the evil, both of others and their own; the sixth torture is the constant company of Satan; the seventh torture is horrible despair, hatred of God, vile words, curses and blasphemies. These are the tortures suffered by all the damned together, but that is not the end of the sufferings. There are special tortures destined for particular souls. These are the torments of the senses. Each soul undergoes terrible and indescribable sufferings, related to the manner in which it has sinned. There are caverns and pits of torture where one form of agony differs from another. I would have died at the very sight of these tortures if the omnipotence of God had not supported me. Let the sinner know that he will be tortured throughout all eternity, in those senses which he made use of to sin. I am writing this at the command of God, so that no soul may find an excuse by saying there is no hell, or that nobody has ever been there, and so no one can say what it is like.

I, Sister Faustina, by the order of God, have visited the abysses of hell so that I might tell souls about it and testify to its existence. I cannot speak about it now; but I have received a command from God to leave it in writing. The devils were full of hatred for me, but they had to obey me at the command of God. What I have written is but a pale shadow of the things I saw. But I noticed one thing: that most of the souls there are those who disbelieved that there is a hell. When I came to, I could hardly recover from the fright. How terribly souls suffer there! Consequently, I pray even more fervently for the conversion of sinners. I incessantly plead God's mercy upon them. O my Jesus, I would rather be in agony until the end of the world, amidst the greatest sufferings, than offend You by the least sin.

I am not content with this life,

Waking up in the morning, overnight

Children's cries heard, somewhere

A stampede,

Bare footed people running,

Babies in mothers' arms,

The old and infirm pulled in carts.

Once in my motherland, there was a war

which left a bitter after taste,

The residues of chemicals that burnt

Deeper than napalms.

Today I see a trail of evacuees

Zigzagging like ants under rains of leaves,

An emergency, a death sentence,

Running from nowhere to nowhere

In a caged plot of land.

No, I am not content with this life,

Going to bed at night, waking up alive

To the sound of explosions

Elsewhere

Or right here, inside my heart.

Peace had become a dirty word soaked with blood.

Once in my motherland there were

Carpet bombings and revenge killings

By both sides,

Deadly rockets fell on trails of evacuees

Running from nowhere to nowhere

In a caged plot of land,

All in the name of peace.

I am alive, curse me! A survivor!

And I am not content with this life.

History brought back lessons of death,

But alas the hearts denied!

A life is a life,

A kill is a kill,

Intentional or not (who says not?).

I am alive

But the soul is gasping for understanding.

In this madness,

The human eyes are closed (not blinded),

Ears muffled (not deaf),

Hearts hardened like stones.

Only the earth, soaked with blood, moans,

When blistered feet of the innocents