I’m having a rough week.
Thinking, no, hallucinating about you is always hard because I have to ground myself in reality after.
I was taking a dump and I realized either everything the voices say is true and I dodged a bullet or,
I have gravely insulted the only woman I’ve known to love with my everything, and then some.
Not to say that I haven’t confessed love for women after you,
but I think there’s a “special kind of sickness” when it bleeds into not only the good parts about life, but also some of the bad.
But there’s another agent in my psychosis, thats fastening my seatbelt on all of these emotional rollercoasters. The person that keeps saying “I want to know” or just wants to know more.
For instance, they took me back to a time when we got lost on our way to 1010 Mass Ave, the day you fainted and I caught you in my arms.
They say you would’ve had sex with that custodian if you weren’t reading your book, back in that other room behind the room where I was presenting in.
And, also that you’re scared of something, more on that later.
back to the custodian, and my memory of you.
I feel like, as an objective, rational person, grounded in reality, a custodian, maybe more than twice your age, is a person, easy to ignore, and you would in no way be tempted to perform any sexual service on this individual for any reason, because you have no reason to. Normal.
But in the twisted, fucked up, pornographic psychic 4D Chess and gaslighting world of my psychosis, you’d have sex with him because it’s a fun thing to be a bit unfaithful and may it so that I would never find out. To pick on me, the one person out of seemingly everyone that’s “in the dark” about your true nature. To keep up the show someone else is watching, spying on you with secret radio technologies that I have to figure out in order to reclaim my sanity.
I’m tired.
I wish I could talk to you, but it’s not like I don’t understand why you want nothing to do with me.