Psychosis at Mario's

They say you’re “Miss Piggy” now, whatever that means.

I saw Maren on LinkedIn, I have no reason to add her to my connections but I thought about it. Even just for a bit, even to just explain myself, to apologize, tell her that I’m taking medication now, “sorry for the harassment” etc…

They say you felt so stupid you decided to stop speaking english.

That you’re just racist.

I think I just forgot to take my crazy pills today, so just now I took two.

I’m focusing on me, ya’know, self-improvement.

Trying to lose all the weight.

Build muscle.

Eat better.

I got lucky that I can get through a bachelors degree, so I’m doing it now.

I think about how far I’ve come without you, without anyone supporting me.

I think about how far I’ll go.

I think maybe one day, when I’m your “famous nightmare” all of the ugliness will come out, I’ll have to defend myself on camera, say I was a “different person back then” and announce my run for President or something.

I don’t know, I still go on with my “illusive ranting” as you called it back in what, 2013? It’s been 11 years since THEN, and I still think about you.

I’m still haunted by you.

I’m sure if you could control this, you’d be so insignificant a fly would occupy my mind more than the thought of you.

But you can’t, and neither can I.

2:46AM

They’re saying you had sex with a police officer at some point in that New York hostel.

I want to just talk to you and clear up my madness, I don’t even know if it will make it stop, if you’d lie to me, what I should even believe or if it even matters, but I know you’ll give me no quarter, won’t hear me out, won’t hear my side, won’t offer an olive branch, understanding, compassion, love.

None of that exists in you for me.

I get that, I really do, but why can’t I stop this yearning?

Logically it all makes sense.

I was 19 when I dated you, I’m 35 now.

Logically that’s the only sentence I have to say for it to all make sense, but when they hits start hitting, when I can’t roll with the punches, I just want to goddamn talk.

I don’t want to rekindle an old flame.

I don’t want to confess my love.

I don’t want to get you to fall for me again.

I don’t want to start over.

I just want to clear my head.

Clear the air.

That’s it.

UGH

I don’t know why my psychosis, my maddening love for you is back, because I am taking my medication.

I’m doing my best not to contact you, but it doesn’t feel difficult to do now, unlike in the past.

My psychosis states that my sadness, my heartbreak is almost communal, that everyone can share in the mistake you made when you broke up with me.

I don’t see it as a mistake, there was a lot of “in-between” that may or may not have happened if we stayed together, and I’m sure there are things about you that I don’t know and can’t know if I’d have responded correctly to them.

As the communal grieving scene from the movie “Midsummer” plays in my head, and I breath and wail and breath and wail, I calm, my fingers are my lungs.

There’s a lot bouncing around inside this dome piece of mine but it feels so trivial to mention, to say.

What I know is that we do not feel the same way about each other, or at least that’s the reality I’ve been presented with.

I can try to bring myself to hate you or feel more negatively about you but at the end of the day the title lover-boy in me remembers his “golden moments” and I distance myself from serious relationships even further as I type with catharsis.

I suppose all that’s left for me now is porn, cartoon porn, onlyfans and my imagination.

Good enough.

This page is public now because I'm ready to talk about this

Hello You,

Ina,

the woman that still lays in the bed in my head and heart.

How are you?

I’d write to you but you won’t write back.

I remember writing that e-mail all those years ago in, 2013? When I was full of rage on New Years Eve/Day, and you wrote back with whimsy.

Then years of harassment.

I’m afraid I’ll be a man everywhere else in life, with every other part of my body, except for my heart.

I’m still some 19 year old boy that gets excited at the thought of you.

I wonder if this is what people mean when they say “loving someone means loving the thousand births and deaths of who they will become.”

Do those births and deaths spur on divorce?

Are those changes the catalyst to counseling?

And if we all die and are reborn, how come I feel the same?

Maybe I should just make that Spotify playlist.

Maybe I should just surrender to the feeling again.

But I want to move on.

I want to move forward.

I want to clear the air.

I want all the ugliness to come to the surface.

I want to be forgiven.

I want to love again.

Maybe, somewhere on your side of the planet you expected to see another e-mail.

I’d send one, but I don’t need to give the Norwegian Government more reason to arrest me.

I definitely don’t want that to happen again.

I’ve gone to therapy.

I’m taking medication,

but you’re still here, flying back into my open arms like a boomerang,

and I write these myriad words that say the same thing,

a love song on repeat,

a single,

a broken record.

Ess muss sein, muss esse sein, I suppose.

Leo Season

Life has been much better since I’ve been regularly taking my medication.

I’m still not dating, but I also think the people in your life, the people I affected, the people I reached out to, would just want to forget about me, maybe me, forget about them, as I continue living here on the other side of the planet.

Your birthday is in three days, and while I think “Well maybe I could celebrate Obama’s birthday instead?” I know it’s all just a ruse to try and avoid thinking of you, it’d be better not to celebrate or try to make the day any more significant with something else, at all.

Even though I write this, I’m somewhat scared of becoming a big name celebrity and have to talk about you, what I did, the consequences of that, etc. It feels like you won’t talk about it, you’re out of reach for all I know, but can I confront it? Would I “lose fans” and how would that affect me?

It’s a possible future, yet not one already determined.

I’m not speaking of “love” or even “madness” now.

I’m calm.

Maybe complacent, but the me that wrote those things only a few years, months ago feels like an entirely different person already.

I did some therapy as well, it helped, but I don’t know that it gave me what I wanted, but neither will you, so I’m stuck with this lump in my throat, trying to apologize, wanting to make amends, accomplishing neither.

It’s not even about “closure” anymore, but I suppose if I need to speak with you to move on, then somewhere in that feeling, “closure” exists.

Well me and my lumpy throat may at least have one shot for your birthday.

I hope you’re happy and healthy.

I wish only for your own prosperity,

always.

Caesar

5/15/23

18:21

@Work

I saw a woman with a baby today and I thought of you.

The yearning doesn’t feel as strong anymore, but still, will this go on forever? Will I yearn, think, look for you in every woman that’s slightly Scandinavian?

I was looking for grants for artists a few weeks ago and I stumbled upon this man, William H. Johnson, who married a Danish woman and was an Artist and African American. I thought to myself when I first came upon his story and now discontinued grant opportunity “Maybe I should’ve gone for a Danish girl…” or Swedish, but times were different right? And I’m looking for forever if I do that much work, and not just a good time. Anyway.

What is this? An Introduction to the page "X"

Some people know and some people don’t, but one of the reasons I don’t pursue romantic relationships is because I still feel like I’m not over my ex.

It’s weird because it’s been so many years that have gone by, she wants nothing to do with me but still I find my body reacting to certain things, stimuli that vaguely remind me of her.

I’ve been trying to decide whether or not I should publish this or if I should make videos or just speak to a therapist but honestly I think I want a dialogue with someone, anyone, not just professional help, friends too, EVEN THOUGH, I do think I already know what everyone is going to say, and at the same time, I still a sensitive boy with feelings, thoughts, emotions, and it’s healthy for him, that boy, to express himself.

Don’t worry, I’m talking to a therapist as well, but for anyone at least a little bit curious, there’s this.