Say Anything, or not

The voices say you “don’t know what to say” or “you don’t have anything to say.”

That’s fine, I’m used to the radio silence.

What I’m not used to is taking my medication regularly and still being bombarded by their creatures, ghouls, ghosts, apparitions.

If you do want to say something, I’ve given you plenty of things to at least respond to, but it’s your world, and I’m just living in it, right?

I mean I’m barely doing that, I don’t even think I count as a grain of sand or a pixel on a phone screen on Planet Ina.

Psychic Damage

Thinking about you is bad enough, but how do I stop the conspiracy ideation?

Police officers, the church, stories of sexual carnage and violence.

I mean- there’s too much to lose now to just decide to “go crazy” again.

I’m working hard on building a future for myself, a foundation.

You know that.

I suppose I should tell you I earned my Associates Degree, and 'I’m going for my bachelors, not so certain about a Master’s, but honestly, you probably don’t care about any of that anyway.

Still, and I’m saying this for myself now, it’s a bad idea to buy a ticket to Norway.

I could be arrested for up to 6 months.

I have a job I’ve been holding down, I have a career goals I aspire to achieve.

I just can’t allow myself to risk that for some petty truths about a relationship that happened 15 years ago.

I’ve been with so many other women in that time, and none of it worked out but when you look at the inherent racism of the United States of America it makes more sense.

Still! I’ve done it before, I can do it again, I just don’t want to bother at the moment.

Look you don’t care about any of this, I’ll just end up in jail and you can sleep better at night knowing I’m behind bars for a while and then on a fucking plane back to Boston.

But I care, and like I want the best for you, I want the best for myself as well.

Empty Sex

These visions, these thoughts.

I feel a twinge of angry and jealousy, and it evaporates.

I’m slightly annoyed and then it vanishes.

I can’t even describe it as angst when I see these visions.

I can’t must up enough emotion to care.

Just empty sexual hallucinations.

It’s never you, it’s always “someone else” but your face is on them, a deep fake. A psychic fucking deep fake.

Over and over.

Right before I try and fall asleep.

I’m not even sad.

I can’t go back in time, teleport to your location and start a fight with the guy.

I never could.

I’m not clairvoyant, especially not on a messenger applications, millions of miles and computers away.

I can’t tell by the words on the screen whether or not you were lying.

I can’t, I couldn’t do anything, then and now.

A hollow realization.

Emptiness, but not the good “Zen” kind.

I swear to god I have visions

I’m watching ProZD Plays Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All // Ep. 14

In my head there’s a DRAMA playing out where the only video game you play is “Amongus” and you reveal to someone in the psychic reality that you’ve always been a lesbian for Toni.

Somehow, if that’s true I don’t feel like the relationship will last very long but, if it means I’m no longer cursed, all the better ✌️

Sadness

And now that the voices have subsided, they leave me staring out another window of clarity, waking up to the sun shining down on me in my lonely bed, knowing one clear thing:

You don’t love me.

And that’s what makes dealing with these voices so tough.

They bring back all these feelings and memories, past and present.

It’s a waste of time, too stressful to be angry with you, I didn’t want to harass you, I wanted to talk again, I don’t want to feel anything for anyone, but if I’m going to at least it’s from a time where I was positive love was real, at least within and for me.

Or maybe I fall in love too easily, too quickly.

I’m not cut out for this, clearly.

But this sadness, the bright side of this sadness is that when I’m back in reality, and my guts are churning, my chest depressed, at least I know I haven’t succumbed to the delusions and hallucinations.

I know what to do with sadness.

I know how to escape it.

I always seem to find a reason to keep on living.

And I hope you do too.

In one ear, out the other.

Like I keep mentioning, I’m taking my medication, but the voices are oddly active recently.

Maybe it’s the 3 weeks of doing the overnight shift that’s causing the trouble, as I do hear them if I’m up past 5AM sometimes, I don’t know, I’m just a working stiff tho.

Anyway they say at the airport your dad slapped you because you referred to me as a “nigger” which is honestly new and surprising.

They say you aren’t telling the whole story, or weren’t, but what do I know?

Me personally, I try to be honest and forthright, you might have your reasons for being the opposite, and I’m not saying you’re a liar, but I know a thing or two about not telling the whole truth.

You have your reasons though and that’s fine, I mean we’re not talking to one another currently, this blog might be more for myself than for the idea that you’ll see it and decide to reach out to me like I have done to you.

That may be just another silly little pipe dream of mine but the heart wants what it wants.

Anyway, keep your secrets.

You know how I feel.

Somewhere deeply rooted within in is that teenage boy that loved talking to you, that loved you. You can come to me with anything, I’ll lend an ear, it’s the least I can do.

Voices in my head are reviewing that one video I sent…

The one where I declare I’m a homosexual, and put on a voice and everything…

They also seem to be surprised that I “don’t feel stupid.”

Just chalk it all up to madness and go live the rest of your life.

Who are you going to show that video to that will have a direct impact on my future?

I’d like to meet them.

More Words

I keep finding new combinations of words for things I’ve already said.

Voices are going back through my memories, specifically Central Park.

Someone in my head said they wanted ME to be raped.

Hot damn.

According to the voices

Your husband sounds like a guy that needs quite a bit of help.

I know I don’t know him, and I don’t know what he’s like or how “wonderful” he may or may not be, but they say he’s trying to “commit suicide” by drinking paint..? Isn’t most paint non-toxic nowadays? I mean maybe he’d need to get his stomach pumped but like I said, I don’t know anything about your neck of the woods, other than you being unwilling to communicate with me.

I’m just some cosmic plaything for the whim of the universe, what with this mental illness and all.

I thought I’d use the “power of attraction” to try and get you back into my life but that stuff seems all hokey. Like pretending I already have you and am in a relationship with you when it’s clear you reside somewhere with me, in my memories, my mind and heart, but what I desire is something real time communications, tangible, to hold you hand, etc.

I prefer the “No Mind” concept of Zen anyway, I don’t want to double down on being or seeming obsessed with you.

I should finish that poem…

Food for thought

Despite the pain that you bring me, there are still things in this world that make me happy.

That make me smile.

I assume it’s the same for you.

Why did I get cursed?

Why couldn’t it have been that boy in Mexico?

Or that one guy you kissed in the DR?

Or anyone else for that matter.

Why me?

What is the lesson in all this?

And is it a lesson for only myself or the both of us? And maybe our networks/communities?

Idk what is going on-

Idk what is going on with my brain but it’s like it’s trying to break my heart.

I got my eyes closed and I’m seeing pink and tan human shaped blogs fucking each others brains out and I’m supposed to vaguely make out your face.

I know what it is, it’s a call back to when we were in a long distance relationship while you were traveling through South America, I’m supposed to think you were unfaithful, and essentially either had a favorite guy or fucked anything with a dick that moved.

But I’m not shaken in my convictions, and I know I can’t change the past.

I don’t want to be cheated on by anyone but that’s just the way the cookie crumble.

I don’t want to sound like I’m begging to get back together with you but I can control how people will read and understand this writing.

All I know is I’d give us a second chance.

And what else I know is that you wouldn’t.

You can fuck every man on planet earth in my hallucinations,

I’m dying on this hill.

I can’t believe I have more to say

More to ask, more to show, more to small talk about.

I have been living life all these years without you, things you don’t know. We missed out on each other’s “terrible 20’s” as I like to call them.

But instead of an exhaustive list of questions and statements, here are two images.

Found that video

It’s a lot crazier than I have the gist if it credit for, but I found it all the same:

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxXzKcwM76k/?igsh=OTAwOHB0cjQ2emc1