4:45 Poetry that isn’t here

I follow porn on Twitter. I’m single, it’s allowed, but I was scrolling and one of the account posted a disturbing video.

It was so much porn as it was a woman being raped, and the comments under the video suggested the same thing.

It was vile, and before I knew it, I blocked the account and tried to forget about it. Curiosity got the best of me so I tried to find it again and watch it, only to realize I was not going to sift through the other 259 accounts to disturb my psyche.

What I saw wasn’t erotic. It didn’t even seem like “consensual non-consent.” It was a woman, performing a blowjob on multiple men before she started attacking one of them. He overpowered her and the rape began.

The voices, chimed in as usual and made… “comparisons” and I thought back to my past and how I harassed you with porn. I thought back to that person and I put my hands in the air and said “you need to stop, you’ve done enough.”

I want to move on, I want to move forward, I know that in my head and in my heart, even though I’m back here writing this.

I don’t understand how anyone could rape someone. I mean, I’ve had situations where I was aroused and alone with a woman that wanted nothing to do with me and I always found a way to avoid pressuring her or forcing myself upon her. I’d say “it made me sick to my stomach” but I’m from the fringe group of terminally online people that watched the entire “2 girls 1 cup” video, but still, this new video did its damage.

I’m not here to say anything I haven’t said before. Love, apologies, the moon and the stars in the sky, everything for you and your peace, even if it is without me, but also, I have to take stock in my own life.

My life is good if not getting better.

I’ve weathered the storm of mental illness and I feel like going forward I’ll do more work to right my wrongs, and do justice.

I do wish you were my companion in any respect, even a long distance pen pal, but I can’t make you see what you turn away from, and I don’t intend to try and force you, either.

Nothing.

I don’t need to hear anything about you.

The voices went from telling me we’ll get back together to how you don’t like me and you’ll never again set foot in my city.

All of which I already knew, but instead of having to drag my yearning heart out of day dreams and “la la land” I have to sit in the muddy fact that I am either unloved because I am unlovable or unloved because I am too intimidating for the people presently around me.

Somethings got to give, and I hope it gives sooner, rather than later.

Loose Marbles, Pinball Even

This has been bouncing around my fucking brain since the horrors have been poured into it, so I finally asked the question “why don’t she/her/him/they fight back?” Google didn’t disappoint. Im sorry again, but my head is a jungle of tales about rape and incest and I can’t seem to navigate it other than to come here and attempt to pour it all out on these web pages. What the fuck do I tell a therapist?! These are thoughts I do not control. THey’re just IN HERE for some reason, I’m being told them.

Whatever, this isn’t about me…

She died.

I can’t imagine what you’re going through, what you’ve gone through.

If the horrors are real, and what they said is true, I’m sorry for your loss, and I apologize for anything I’ve said or done that’s made you uncomfortable or worse.

Not asking you to see my perspective in all these things and more, just know I’m sorry, and I don’t mean to cause you harm.

The Beaches

Went to a concert tonight, and had the unfortunate pleasure of standing behind a girl that had a hairstyle similar to yours when I knew you.

She was being cute with her friends and I thought about you doing that, dancing like that.

Fuck.

Ironically, it’s appropriate for the theme of the convent/music.

She had a similar build too, although I imagine she was a bit taller than you, from what I remember. Still, it was a great show, and I’m glad I went out.

It was a challenge at first with the voices and all that but still good, after I got past that.

Glad I didn’t smoke weed.

This should be on Twitter

The voices in my head comment about me getting an erection and watching porn.

This blog isn’t really about you.

Whoever they’re comparing me to, is either a homosexual or impotent.

They, sometimes, beg me to “not get it up” and go on and on about some person coming out of the closet when I do.

I mean of course I ignore them and go about getting my rocks off but what the fuck is a therapist going to tell me about this?

“Do you feel shame?”

“No.”

“Were you abused?”

“No.”

“Would you like to increase your medication?”

Everything but getting to the root of these ideations.

Tiring.

A few days off

Voices are kicking my ass. Today wasn’t too bad but they’re saying I’m the only person in the world that can tell you “I love you more,” which is something I think I agree with.

But if I’m wrong I’m wrong.

You have your life, I have mine.

But I took a few days off from work. One day as a birthday present to myself, another day to just relax.

I got asked to show up for a meeting at a local bookstore, so I’m thinking I stop by the liquor store and maybe show my face there for a second too.

I really want to pre-game for this concert, but I don’t want to wake up with a hangover, and at the same time I’d love to forget that I’ve been dealing with these voices for the last few weeks, but having the smell of alcohol come off my skin sounds like a bad hit, no bueno.

What else is there even left to say?

Gambling

Voices say you’re making bets with people on whether or not I’ll post something.

Mildly annoying.

Snap out of it

There’s this “pained voice” in my head every time it feels as if the voices get to some new revelation on what exactly happened to you.

Some pained, desperate voice that doesn’t want to see me ever again.

For some reason this voice tells me about that horrors that may or may not be and I go “god that sucks, but yeah we can move on.”

This feeling doesn’t last long enough but I do feel it.

Fantasy

Lots of chatter today.

In my head I want a partner that will build with me. Ideally I’d like to be able to purchase property here in Mass, like a triple decker and live on one floor and rent out the other units.

If I’m being really fantastical, maybe have another, single family home, and make the triple decker a rental property.

With the climate the way it is right now, that seems impossible, but the voices in my head say you’re a millionaire. 1 million Krone isn’t exactly 1 million USD but if anything there’s potential.

More than that, if it is you, I feel bad about making use of your money. I’ve told you in the past that I have a retirement savings account, not that I know you read those messages but ideally we’d open an account for you too, and also have some dividend investments so you can have an income without having to work. It’s your money, you decide what you can do with it but my Swedish buddy, his wife wasn’t able to get a work visa and while I’m lost in thought, I wonder if the same would happen to you… but I think you have more credentials, what with your masters degree and all.

Voices in my head say you’d become a social worker in America.

Voices in my say Howard might be killed by someone if I keep posting.

I don’t know if they’re trying to paralyze me with fear or guilt, but that would have been possible maybe the years when my psychosis first started, not anymore. The simple reason is because I have to take care of myself, and expressing these thoughts/emotions/ideas/musings help me do that.

My co-worker owns a duplex, and he successfully made the second side of his home an Airbnb. That could work too but I think for that, people would want to stay in a more… “historical” or “aesthetic” part of Boston, like downtown, Beacon Hill, but property there is priced in millions of dollars, started at 1 million USD and getting higher. I work in the area so I know.

All this to say that yes, I know this is just some fantasy. Some part of my brain/body/soul that won’t let go, no matter how cold and calculating I try to become.

Take care.

I think I’m going to try and start running to reduce the size of my belly.

✌️

Goddamn

I paused the movie I’m watching to go get a beer.

A microbrew, and I only know that because when I scan the barcode in the “my fitness pal” app it prompts me to create a new food.

Maybe I’ve said this before: I hate that I feel good when I hallucinate that we’ll get back together.

I don’t know where these good feelings come from.

Logically, I don’t know why I would, even in a minuscule amount, feel good at all.

I can think of plenty of reasons why it’s not true, and I usually do after the warm and fuzzies, but maybe it’s this idea that, someone is going to “choose” me to be with, someone that already has a general idea of me, someone I won’t have to start from scratch with.

I mean there would be work, there’s always work, but maybe that small part of my mind/body/heart/soul likes the familiarity.

Who knows.

I can’t say I’m worth anything right now.

I’m in my late 30’s and still a “work in progress.”

No kids.

But also no car.

Barely a “place of my own.”

I live with family, and while that isn’t bad, trying to afford rent in Boston with everything else I got going on is a financial nightmare.

Let’s hope voting brings rent control, at least…

All of this to say that I’m typing this out before my beer.

The beer isn’t strong enough to make me forget, not tonight, but also last night I drank a whole bottle of wine alone and I’m still back to twiddling my thumbs.

Goddammit.

Perfect Partner(?)

Not you, I don’t think we’ll ever be a thing again but who comes next?

Is there a person that would be okay with this idea that I don’t control my own thoughts?

Someone that wouldn’t mind that you drift and stay in my mind even when I want to not be thinking anything?

Can I expect them to not be upset? Or should they rightfully be upset, and go find something else to distract themselves with as I struggle on?

Do we talk it out?

Should I expect a fight?

Can a new relationship ever move beyond you and I if you won’t stop haunting me?