Johan

I'm sending you straight to hell

[lungarden]

My art does not support pedophiles; it supports survivors, block me if you feel my blog is too triggering for you.

🌹 || My name is Johan. I am a survivor of child sex trafficking and severe torture (RAMCOA). I was militarily trained by a russian neurosurgeon dedicated to Soviet programming.

🌹 || I have achieved functional multiplicity, and I am studying medicine to become a Neurosurgeon-Neuropsychiatrist specializing in trauma, dissociation, and mental deprogramming for survivors of severe abuse. I am an adult; I do not speak with minors.

🌹 || My art is an apology letter to survivors of abuse, and I provide books for survivors if they need them so they don’t feel alone.

🌹 || My art is not pleasant. And I will not make it pleasant for you; I portray severe abuse. I do not take commissions, and I do not sell my art. There is nothing about my art to be sold.

No reality is made by sin.

[lungarden]

I made a drawing that's different from what I usually post, and I wanted to share it with all of you, mainly because it's about one of the most interesting things that can happen with trauma.

My brain decided to fall in love with a character who isn't kind, let alone someone who does good things; on the contrary, he is a violent character who reminds me of the abuse I survived. It makes me feel at home.

I don't like shipping characters, I've never done it before. This is the first time I've brought myself to do it. This situation is different enough to warrant digital illustration instead of paper. He is a questionable, problematic, and violent character—it's not the healthiest thing, but it's something that helps me process the abuse. In fact, I didn't draw myself next to him; I drew the body.

She isn't me, but she feels things that I can't control.

[lungarden]

You are so kind Johan, it pains me to see that the best of people get the worst of treatment from the world. Your art has helped us so so much. Be blessed, much love

Hugs and kisses xx

Greetings. I hope you are doing well.

I'm glad my art serves as a guide for you; I want it to be the guide that I needed at some point.

Thank you for your sweet words, it's lovely to know you see me as a kind man. Sometimes I do tend to stray and be rude, but that is only on specific occasions.

God bless you too.

Hugs and kisses.

[lungarden]

Johaaan !! You are very epic and cool beans and i hope that one day you can go to an island of cats and have all of them love you c:

Greetings, I hope you feel like a cloud today.

Thank you for the compliments, I really like cats, and I hope cats can love you too.

Hugs.

[lungarden]

You are an inspiration for survivors like us, who also went through ramcoa. How does one find the courage to be open about what happened, to put oneself out there, be it through art or any other medium? This world is scary and judgemental. I hope you have been well.

Greetings, I hope you are doing well.

I found the courage by understanding that the worst thing that can happen to me by telling my story is that some people might not believe me, and that doesn't affect me at all. Illustrating, speaking out, and putting yourself out there is something you acquire over time (if you wish to do so) by working through the discomfort of being watched and judged by others, understanding that people make judgments based on their own belief systems. From the way you put it, tomorrow looks dark, but that doesn't have to be true.

They could judge you so many times until they strip you of everything, but they cannot take away who you are.

I am doing well. Thank you for asking.

Hugs.

[lungarden]

are you asian

Greetings. I hope you are doing well.

No. I am not Asian. I am often told that I have those features; however, I am not.

Hugs.

[lungarden]

if ur gonna fake at least fake well like wth is ur most recent post bru 😭😭😭😭😭

Greetings, I don't need you to believe me, it really doesn't bother me.

Take care. Hugs.

[lungarden]

I remember everything. And I remember it so well that it's annoying, I remember everything, I remember everything, I remember everything, I remember him. I remember he mentioned to me that his father was a military doctor dedicated to programming children in kindergartens. He told me, he told me, he always said it. He mentioned to me that he listened to stories from the Swedish and Nazi era, that his father told him and that his grandfather told him stories under a fireplace and in a beautiful mansion. He said he belonged to the fall of the Berlin Wall, that his grandfather had helped, that he was looking for a way to recover it, he told me that he studied medicine, that he learned languages, that when he dressed as a woman it was to imitate his mother. He smiled a lot and that's why with his eyes he imitated the kind and sweet look of his mother, he wore heels and walked around to please men when he was a child. I remember him, I remember him, he told me everything. I remember him, I remember him, I remember him, I remember him, I remember him, I remember him, I remember him, he is as real as I am, he trained me just like they trained him, he knew how to live with that, and he became the programmer his family wanted. And he loved it, he loved being it, he loved that control and harm he exerted. He loved it, he loved doing it, he loved it, he loved it, he loved it. He liked to contact young girls too to sell them, he loved it, he loved it, he loved it, he loved it, he loved it, he loved it, he loved it, he loved it. When was the last time he dressed up as his mother? When was the last time he put on makeup? When was the last time? When? When? When? When? When was he between the black lines? When? When? When? When?

And the code is 555-666-----------

555-666-----------

I know him all!! I know him all!!! I know him all!!!!!!!

[lungarden]

I took the time to do a small experiment where I investigated tags used by predators on Tumblr to get in touch with child abuse survivors. I realized that in less than an hour, 14 different people contact you with the same intention: wanting you to tell them about your abuse or completely dominate you, looking for photos of you, or wanting to have sex with you. See those Tumblr accounts where they openly state they are abuse survivors and sexualize themselves via DM? Those very same accounts receive, in less than an hour, multiple and multiple and multiple messages insulting them, forcing them to reply, and explicit photos. I can't be the only one who has noticed this pattern, and I know there are other survivors in the community who feel the same way and are saddened by those kinds of accounts. But the problem isn't the accounts; it's the degenerates who want to hear you talk about how you were abused by your dad, your mom, your sister, or your best friend.

Disgusting.

[lungarden]

It was a house with wooden floors, my bed was quite old and had white sheets, I wore a pink dress and my hair was blonde. And I would stay lying in that bed, looking out the window. He liked to watch me through the door, intently, breathing deeply without stopping, and sometimes when I pretended to be asleep, he would masturbate behind the door. I loved my stuffed animals, I loved them. I loved my stuffed animals. And the smell of the wood; what I didn't like was his expensive perfume and the scent of his car. I completely hated the smell of his expensive perfume, I hated it, that typical perfume only a man with money would wear, who opens my legs and rapes me on top of my doll bed. He dressed me like a doll, and he preferred summer afternoons, those where the breeze passes through the window and you can see the trees, while he smoked a cigarette. He liked to hunt animals like a boy, a boy, a boy, a boy. And he held the shotgun. The shotgun. The shotgun. He liked to touch the shotgun and shove the revolver into her vagina.

And he would curl up in my sheets. He liked curling up in my sheets so much. And it smelled like apple. Apple, apple. You liked to cook for hours and hours, and hours and hours when they weren't around. And you would come close to me, and you would touch me. You liked to watch me drawing because you said I could improve, that you saw art in me, and you let me touch one of your paintings that you made for me. One where I appear with my lips and my hands almost touching my face, paint so fresh that I can feel it and it feels cold. And I see you. I see you. I see you, and I smell you, you smell the same.

I see you as much as you see me.

[lungarden]

Today we were at the internist. She gave us a complete checkup and detected thyroid and cardiac anomalies; it seems we have an arrhythmia and a murmur in the pulmonic area, as well as a thyroid pathology that affects our entire system in general. She also mentioned that the paralysis we suffered as children was likely related to a transient ischemic attack. I was able to learn more about medicine from my teacher while she was evaluating me; however, I have to get so many tests done that there are five pages of lists and referrals of places I need to go, including tests like a complete blood count, triglycerides, T4, T3, urea, and creatinine, and the list goes down from there. I definitely have someone to blame for this situation, but it’s no use.

Our mother asked if we told her about the C-PTSD or DID, which makes no sense; however, it's because she wants to control the narrative of absolutely everything we do. This time, we didn’t even let her into the office. We handled everything on our own. I was glad she wasn't there controlling the narrative. I would have gone more years without knowing what was wrong with me. Now I have to take medication to see how it goes (Bisoprolol), though I'm not exactly happy about it. I'm glad to know what I have; what I'm not glad about is knowing it could have been prevented and I didn't get the help I needed.

[lungarden]

your blog is one of the firsts I saw that truly inspired me to start posting my art. I had been drawing for a while to cope, but I hadn't been enforcing the coping strategy on myself and it wasnt a consistent one I used. I saw your posts and I thought "thats something I could do, too."

now, whenever I'm feeling down, I draw, far more consistently than my bad habits I used to rely on, and I posts my works. now ive been told my works have a similar effect on others. I appreciate your blog and your artwork a lot. ❤️🫂

- Twelve, @thrashingdreamer

Twelve. I'm glad my art makes a difference in you, and in the people who see it. Reading your response, we also experience feeling embarrassed or feeling like our viewers think we are a bit 'weird.' However, being weird isn't really the problem, but rather what those people did to make one become 'weird.' Whenever you feel ashamed, just think that the ones who should be ashamed are those who committed those acts.

Keep on illustrating, I promise you life gets better even if it doesn't seem like it.

[lungarden]

I decided to make a document with all the information I have about my abusers and the sect I come from, such as the logos they used or the places where they operated. I will do this with the purpose of adding it to my personal evidence; it will be a somewhat long project, but I will find a way.

[lungarden]

I still remember when I was in the cradle, you took me and handed me over to the blonde man to begin my ritual. The man dressed in a trench coat took my nipples and started rubbing his penis over my face. Moving side to side, on my lips. Going down from my mouth to my vagina and then moving inside with his fingers. They spread my legs open and moved my cradle. Side to side, side to side, side to side, side to side, side to side. The blonde man kissed me and painted my face with a white paint similar to the one geishas use. And with the tip of his penis, he began to insert it. You sold me that day, and you became my Mother Katherina. You made me lick your breasts and you raped me with dildos, in groups, recording videos to be sold.

But you didn't kill me. You taught me how to use weapons, you didn't kill me. And you forced me to have sex with my mother, where I kissed her breasts and licked her vagina when I was a little girl and she dug her nails inside me. Mother Katherine, when you were with the master and Mother Elizabeth, you dominated her completely and the three of you had sex, him on top of her like a dog, Mother Katherine with a strap-on penetrating Mother Elizabeth, and Mother Elizabeth with a dildo in her mouth.

And the carousel goes round. And round. When you made me your wife, you never told me you would marry me again.

And the carousel goes round and round.

[lungarden]

I've been keeping up with the situation in Venezuela thanks to the Hispanic news networks (no se si conocen Univision afuera de los estados unidos pero es un canal de television hispanohablante), and it makes me think and worry for y'all. I hope you and those you care for can be safe and sound soon. Abrazos <3

- 🕊️

Saludos. Espero se encuentre bien. Puede hablarme al español si le apetece para que así no se complique mucho. Muchas gracias por estar atento a nuestra situación, he visto múltiples cosas las cuales nos han dejado pensando que es lo que realmente hay en este país y por donde van las cosas, no parece ser algo que termine pronto.

No conocemos Univisión. Gracias a usted, ahora sí.

Abrazos. Cuídese.

[lungarden]

Whore throne

[lungarden]

Mother Katherine