They say-

The only thing you’re good at is giving up on things.

Giving up on people

Hobbies

Relationships

You’re only good at giving up.

So they say at least.

Birthday

The next important birthday is my brothers, then AMERICA’S 🇺🇸 🦅 🎆

Yours isn’t for a while, but they say “saying happy birthday” would let you know I’m safe?

Thats definitely not the case. We need a long talk, something, idk not just “HaPpY bIrThDaY” like some weird UNO Reverse card on my psychopathy.

Be safe.

Brain Sludge

Someone said people with my condition might be more likely to develop Alzheimer’s.

I wonder, if that happens to me, if I’ll remember you, or if I’ll die without memories at all.

Sounds better than them plaguing me in the short term but in the long term, very sad.

“You need to have sex with men to get a gf”

So say the voices.

And I’ll say this plainly:

I see you everywhere, even places I don’t want to see you.

I almost uploaded a video to a “reminders” folder, yes a porno, I think I apologized for that but if I didn’t, I apologize, you’re not that kind of person, maybe.

But still, I’m not about to go fuck dudes to get with girls,

And yes you’re right, this is just hallucinations,

But the less I sleep, the louder they get, and now I’m on day fucking TWO of no fucking sleep,

So you do the goddamn math.

I’m not mad at you.

Insomnia, Again

Since Tuesday I haven’t been able to sleep. I even took two trazadone tablets last night and it still didn’t knock me out.

I have no idea what’s going on, all I do know is that the voices are out of control, but! Still more manageable than when I tried to go and see you.

They tell me all kinds of stories about what’s happening on your side of the world, people I don’t know, people I do know and don’t speak to, what I should or what someone would be doing in my place.

I don’t take the time to write it all down because it’s either explicitly graphic in sexual detail or violent, and also I try not to give it too much thought and chalk it up to “hallucinations.”

Still, I’d like to believe some of the nice things they say, about me, or us, but woe is me.

Reality plays a much more downtrodden and bitter tune.

A Wall

While the voices claim you were never meant for me, but someone else, he who shall not be named publicly, I keep thinking of the police in Norway.

I remembering walking with them to the courthouse holding cell, they didn’t use force and didn’t handcuff me, they allowed me to walk alongside them, and follow directions.

In hindsight, I do remember thinking “I could just run” but I didn’t. And now I think, well, the police had all my things.

Clothes.

Wallet.

Cellphone.

Even if I got away I’d be stranded.

Even if I had my credit cards I’d leave a paper trail and they could find me wherever I decided to rest at night.

It’s the illusion of choice almost.

I did what was in my best interest, almost on instinct. I don’t remember thinking out the “what ifs” but maybe it all flashed briefly in my mind.

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…