Dichotomy

So all of “Scandinavia” understands that I can only be one of two ways:

Unbearably Playful

Or

As serious as a heart attack

I understand from the things I’ve said and done why you’d be afraid of me.

Like I said, I’m not asking you to get I got a relationship with me again, I just want to clear my head.

I love you and I want the best for the both of us.

That’s the main sticking point, okay?

ABC’s

A is for Augmented Reality

B is for Bulimia

Apparently I have to acquire or come to terms with these two things if I want to see you again.

So I’m supposed to believe

I reunite with you, and you shoot me in the head and then kill yourself, so everyone else can get what they want.

Making me some sick and twisted martyr in the process.

So say the voices.

No to Uganda

There’s absolutely no way I want to be with “M”

Miss Piggy.

Voices say you aren’t even friends anymore.

That you would’ve jumped off the balcony at that concert if I didn’t delete that screenshot.

Apparently she “turned all the way up” just now to be in my room, but I “see through” people, however this fucking works.

It was the same for “Doja Cat” so say the voices.

Whatever, I don’t want to be with her, not in the slightest.

Ginchin Funakoshi

The Movie “Hora” 2009, Reinhart Kil, Norwegians hate it. I get it.

She’s a serial killer, and you “never want to be like that” in reference to me.

But in the 20 guiding principles of Karate it says just because you have the power to kill someone, doesn’t mean you just go around killing people all willy-nilly.

You have to exercise self-control.

And I get that that’s been difficult with this daikon (turn up) technology, but still, there are outlets that aren’t heinous violence.

You have to be able to see that.

Secret Rendezvous

Voices are saying if you had stayed in the US with me, turned all the way up, you’d meet up with random people, men from your past or people the people “controlling you” and your social media present set you up with, in Boston, behind my back.

Something like that.

Specifically

That I was a stand in for someone else, that was supposed to be murdered by your brother, to inspire his black metal, while you were performing fellatio on your father.

If you were even related to any of those people.

but I survived and now I’m just being tortured by my memories.

Blowjobs in Denmark

Is that what I’m supposed to believe now?

The voices just say you’re fucking retarded and perform sexual favors for some form or no compensation.

Honest to god it’s your body, your life, your choice ultimately.

I just wish I would stop hearing about it.

Erna Solberg

I tweeted at her once. The voices now say when she “turns you up” you just shit and pee.

My mind these last two weeks has been nothing but violence. All kinds of violence, suicide, rape, and I’m fucking bored of it.

It’s not a matter of wishing we could talk (that’s to the voices) but rather just clearing the air, killing the elephant in the room.

And while I watch shadows of you avoid me constantly, walking by like any other stranger, it only reinforces that you do not want me. You don’t desire me, we won’t be together.

I get it, logically it all makes perfect fucking sense.

You considering what I call “reaching out” “harassment”

You returned my packages and money, save that tablet/laptop.

I understand if you’re afraid or feel unsafe, even when I was going to therapy my therapist noted that you might be deathly afraid, showing empathy for you.

I can use all the logic in the world’s best super computer but these thoughts won’t stop.

My doctor told me not to double the dose of medication on my own, so I’m still complying with her orders, but the voices don’t stop.

Of course, I’m not emailing you, I’m not emailing the Norwegian Royal Court, I’m not tweeting at your prime minister.

I am effectively less “mad” (insane) than I’ve been in the past.

But this shit just won’t fucking stop.

Red Line

Voices want me to believe you just got off the train at south station.

Earlier this morning they told me you committed suicide.

The girl I saw had similar features, but I was too far away, on the other side of the car.

And I have to think, even if you were on the train, if you aren’t reaching out to me, you don’t want me.

That’s fine.

Apparently I'm Killing People

Every time I post

Tweet

or if I’m so inclined

Send an e-mail

Fuck, even when I play video games

as if there’s nothing I can do to alleviate my condition.

I don’t care that these people die from such minuscule activities

they weren’t committed to life

they didn’t want to live either way