Like God spoke directly to you...

Voices in my head say you don’t want to be in a relationship with me because you’ve done everything I suggested. Once again, I wonder why you don’t have any agency of your own in my psychosis, because the you I know, the one I remember, didn’t want to do anything she didn’t want to do.

Right now, the voices are saying you’re trying to be a Victoria secret model, and as a result, aged yourself because this exacerbated your eating disorder.

I can’t confirm or deny these things, only you can, what I can do is recognize that I’m hallucinating.

The problem with my medication is that I can’t or shouldn’t drink alcohol when I take it. And apparently it can take up to 7 days to leave my system after I take a pill. I don’t want to give up booze because the only thing left is nicotine, snus, which has a connection with you, because I definitely won’t smoke cigarettes, and smoking weed, while doable, is dumb.

If I could do mushrooms legally I’d probably do that instead. Ah well, I’ll send a letter to my doctor and see what she has to say.

Unless you have a VPN

I know you’re not reading this, and it’s safe to assume you aren’t checking the playlist either.

Voices in my head keep going on about you, saying you’re “scared.” But you aren’t here at all, I can see my analytics, I mostly get visits from China and India, most likely scammers.

And maybe one time I got a visit from the Netherlands. Wouldn’t give it a second thought to think it was you.

I kept pulling the “Death” Tarot card, meaning something in my life is coming to an end, and honestly I think it’s this.

Maybe not my psychosis as a whole but me giving you grace.

The more I think about it, the further I get from considering what the voices have to say.

I’m getting to a point where I can laugh when they talk about you. Something that was impossible.

I’m getting to a point where I can smoke weed again. Something else that I thought was impossible. I wouldn’t recommend doing it, but I can do it now and know that what I’m experiencing isn’t real. There’s no “conspiracy” my brain is just malfunctioning or something like that.

I wish we could’ve talked at least once. Beyond the email where you told me you’d spread racism and call the cops.

But goddamn, do I want to be with that person? Hell fucking no.

What even happened to you? Or were you always like this.

I have questions I’ll never get answers to I suppose.

Nice knowing you.

UAE/SAUDI

Voices are saying you went to the Middle East, I assume for fun? My brother went to Dubai with friends a few years ago but voices are saying you went, and went sky diving, but they stopped you from jumping because you had no parachute in your backpack.

So then you stayed back and slept with/were raped by the guy that held you back, and he defecated on you, in some extent, and that’s the reason why you don’t want to take your clothing off anymore.

Hey this is brand spanking new for the voices and far fetched for me too but again, I write to dispose of these thoughts/scenarios.

Nazi’s eat shit

Voices today are saying you’re a Nazi, and that you eat feces.

Apparently you’re a Nazi in response to being brutally sexually assaulted by your Norwegian kin, but the Nazi’s believed that Northern Europeans were the “superior race” so it makes no sense that you’d worship the same people you hold against all of your ire.

That’s paradoxical.

They also say you are your husbands feces, and that’s a reason why you can’t separate from him, however, I had to Google why was there this correlation in the voices in my head talking about eating shit and being a Nazi, and I found it in the following image… weird…

Til Death do Us Part

Voices have been saying lately that you, with your maiden name, committed suicide.

Of course, every time they say that I think I can just look up your actual name, and if you’re still working at your company website.

I haven’t done that, in a few months. Don’t know exactly how long but again, I’m trying.

The reason I bring this up is because I think it’s like, some kind of, “reverse” suicidal ideation?

As if the voices think if I hear about your supposed death/suicide, I’ll willingly kill myself.

They say things like “if you really wanted to be with her you would commit suicide.”

This isn’t suicidal ideation, as if I’m romanticizing it for myself, and if I were to kill myself, it’d be for the opposite reason. Not to “see you on the other side” but to not be a nuisance to you, or anyone else.

That’s what was running through my mind when I was in prison in Norway. I just didn’t want to bother anyone anymore.

But again, I thought about my mother, and how it would destroy her. Her life, getting back on track, and what ripples that would send through our community, here in Boston and abroad.

And now, I’m glad I didn’t go through with it, because I’m surrounded by people that sing my praises, and want to see me do well.

Basically what I’m saying is I’ve found a reason to live, and got a new lease on life.

I talked to my mom about it the other day and she said people like me because I’m “lovable” which is something I don’t even think I’d ever hear from you, or any other ex I’ve had.

It’s just… regardless of all these great people, and me being good to them in return, for some reason my mind is not only out of my control, but fixed on people like you, that either feel nothing for me, or what nothing to do with me, and you people seem to be people that I love, so so so so very much.

That, is another cruel joke within itself.

And it’s not funny.

The Truth

Voices like to say things and then say “that’s the opposite” but for me, it might as well be the truth.

This is one tactic they have to get me wrapped up in their warped world.

Just now they said “[your name] doesn’t care about me, I already hate/ate the shit of [your husbands name] I will stay here”

Then quickly a voice says, “that’s the opposite.”

So I’m made to believe what, exactly? That although you love your husband you are constantly thinking of me and will leave him? When? Soon? 10 years from now?

It’s this confusing rhetoric that drives me to write. I can’t really function if I’m constantly trying to determine what’s real and what isn’t. What the future holds or if I’m holding on too tightly to my past.

I don’t try to debate or decipher it, mostly, I’m just writing to dispose of it, and go about my day.

“The One”

Voices say you never wanted to be “the one” for anyone, because you’d end up being suicidal.

If you have any agency in my psychic reality, you don’t have to be “the one” for me.

Voices also say, all the time, that I can “be with anyone” but you can’t. I don’t necessarily believe them, you’re with someone else right now, I assume, but the point is, I’m trying to move on.

I’m doing my damndest, I even have a date this weekend, and you know, if you read this, that last week I mustered up the courage, keg stomach and all, to ask a girl for her number, and she gave it to me.

At least I know I tweeted that, maybe I didn’t write a blog… but still, the point is, you don’t have to be “the one.”

It’d be nice.

Kismet and all that jazz, but while we are all stars, life doesn’t have to be dictated by them.

Ya’know?

I know I love you, the opposite doesn’t seem to be true, and I suppose, in some cruel joke that is these feelings that I’ve felt, that’s okay.

Peace and Love.

Reality Check

I know I wrote a lot last night…

You wouldn’t give up a good life with a good job and a wonderful husband to be with a just above broke black guy living paycheck to paycheck in a country falling faster and faster in a tailspin of fascism.

Beyond that, I don’t think the tap water here is as good as it is over in your neck of the woods.

This isn’t a “depressive episode” as in one of the symptoms I could suffer from because of my disorder.

I just have to pull it together.

I’m being played like a fiddle by my own brain, my own mind, it’s in my body, I was born with it, it’s not like I can swap it for another one and yet, it betrays me.

Chalk it all up to the madness, but the voices said something earlier tonight, something along the lines of “an example of being in control of your reality.”

Because I know other people, a person, with my condition, if not worse, that’s decided to live on disability insurance, yet here I am, busting my butt and putting one foot in front of the other to make ends meet.

In a way, it’s admirable, but it would be so much easier to just stay in an institution for the rest of my life. So much easier to just completely conform to insanity, by another ticket to Norway and do no good for anyone.

I won’t.

I think I’m better than that.

I think I’m beyond that.

And more than anything I don’t want to cause you any more harm or stress.

But I think this love I have for you, I have for you more than anyone else.

Which is a painful truth to admit.

I will go on.

I will survive.

And maybe someone will replace you.

Maybe.

But with all the themes and the media I see, I doubt it.

It was just a one of a kind love, a special moment in time, ephemeral, and unique.

People meet all the time via the internet nowadays, sure, but they didn’t have what we had.

No one else could.

Take care.

I’m not done blogging, I’ll be back in one of my fugue states, but still,

Take care.

Bipolar

So my disease, I learned today, schizo affective disorder, is like a combination of schizophrenia AND bipolar disorder.

I feel like I’ve managed my “mood” alright, even though you can tell what I’m feeling in my writing, but I definitely feel the “racing thoughts” and “depressive episodes” albeit, they usually come on, with the voices.

I remember the first email I sent you when I was “so angry I could hit you and kill you” but I haven’t felt like that in a LONG time.

Mostly it’s the racing thoughts that come alongside the voices.

I imagine scientists find this disease hard to treat…

I don’t know where I’m going with this, it’s just a new discovery that I found out today.

Before I knockout

I have this fantasy playing in my mind that you’ll just show up on my doorstep.

Or that I’ll meet you at the airport.

Voices tell me you’ve died, but some women that looks similar or exactly like you has your old ID as proof, and I just embrace her.

I call it a fantasy.

Because with everything I know, that’s impossible, right?

I call it a fantasy.

And yet, it calls to me.

Playing on my heartstrings and I recite its song on this blog as if I’m singing to a sold out stadium.

Someone help me.

God help me.

I want to love again

Someone, you, again.

And I’m making steps in the right direction, but earlier today I said to myself “it’s like no matter how far I get this shit (voices) just keep pulling me back.”

I’m not, “determined,” to “be with you in the end” if that makes sense.

But the voices come on and that part of me that just wants to talk and hug and kiss and fuck makes you the center of my affections.

How do I stop that?

Can I stop that?

A friend of mine said to me the other day:

“I think our beliefs shape our reality.”

So am I holding myself back? By giving myself the space to love you in the past or present?

Is that what’s keeping me tethered to these feelings?

Or is it just my madness reminding me of what once was?

Like I wish I could just sit in those feelings without feeling like a retard.

I wish you really were waiting for me at the end of my shift, that I was waking it to you, or coming home to you, and that with love, with a partner set in stone, I could just focus on everything else I want to do with my life, knowing I picked someone that picked me, and we are happy.

But no, I have to fight off the warm and fuzzy feelings like they’re fucking demon’s trying to poison the pure land I’ve found myself after dedicating my mind and soul to zen.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!!

Do you have any idea how challenging this is?!

COULD YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW CHALLENGING THIS IS?!

These fucked up thoughts of rape and infidelity in a relationship that was barely there, to constantly doubt myself, shred my confidence, think that my love was a lie and a cosmic joke for the pleasure of some apathetic god!

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

I am divided in myself and I want to set fire to the world.

And then I remember to breathe.

And I drink a beer.

And I do some snus.

Another remnant of you, but I’m sure I’m just addicted now.

And then I’m here, like I am right now, at home, in bed, YouTube on in the background as I remind myself I need to sleep before 4:00AM so I can get to work on time and pay for this life I’m lucky enough to still be living.

I fucking hate this shit so goddamn much.

I’m not forcing any smiles, but also, I’m not telling the entire truth.

This is the truth, it exists, for you, and anyone else that stumbles upon it, but I know I put it here so I don’t have to bring it with me everywhere else in my day to day.

Fuck this.

Not sex but rape

Voices say they closed your laptop to initiate the “sex” so it’s not sex but coercion, rape if you will.

Knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better.

All it feels like is that I could’ve protected you and I didn’t, I wasn’t able to.

So now I not only feel bad for you I feel bad about myself, my city, and all those scumbags that took advantage of you.

I hate it all.

Everything involved.

Pregnant from the Hostel

Voices are saying you would’ve tried to scrape the cum out of your pussy at the dinner in an effort to not get pregnant.

Hearing this shit just makes me feel sick to my stomach.

And I’m not disgusted with you, it’s just that my stomach literally fucking hurts.

Before it was my head, now my gut.

I’m just holding on to pain and emotion I can’t do much more than make a pornographic film out of.

And I wonder if this is where they got the idea for the “Fake Hostel” porn channel, or if that was just a well timed coincidence.

Ugh.

We found Joyleyn Bursts,

Find me my inner peace.

Sex every night

Voices say you had sex every night while you were in Boston.

That those men in the hospital either did or would’ve run a train on you.

My problem isn’t so much with this story, it’s with the fact that it makes me feel bad.

Like I’m supposed to feel stupid or betrayed because you were “unfaithful” but you must’ve had some idea of what was going to happen because while you were in New York I know we broke up. That felt bad in the moment but we still met.

It takes less effort to recall the situation back then but then more effort to not see your face in every white woman that might have a bit of Nordic ancestry.

I just don’t want to feel for you at all if you want nothing to do with me, and that makes sense, right?

Way more sense than the voices telling me you’re a lesbian and at the same time, a huge slut.

There was more but I’ve calmed down.

I mean, I think back to when you said “I wish we had sex two more times” and did that mean you had more sex at the hostel than with me?

And when you said “I’ve seen it before” at the exhibit at the ICA did you mean someone from the hostel took you out on a date late in the night there?

And was your hair always brushed to hide the fact that you had sex the night before, or just because I asked on the first day when I saw your bed head?

All these fucking thoughts race through my fucking mind because of some bullshit I can’t fucking control and for what?!

You might as well have fucking murdered me and got away clean.

Fuck.

Logic isn’t enough

I don’t think I even get out half of the thoughts and things I say about you or in regards to you throughout the day. Mostly I’ve been dealing with writing down the psychosis, but I just said a few minutes ago

“No when I was moving on she wasn’t an every present thought every second of every day”

And now I just had a scenario in my mind where I’m in a relationship and you come back into my life and I try to make it work with my new partner and you as a friend and we have a threesome and then I think

“After all of this time, if she wanted to be back in your life, she would’ve been by now”

But logic alone does not stop the yearning. It’s doesn’t put a cork in my bleeding heart, it doesn’t sew shut my imagination to keep all these thoughts and ideas from pouring out.

Sucks.

More illusion ranting for you.

Wtf is a “toe job” ?

Voices keep bringing up or talking about the myriad ways you would have cheated on me.

I don’t know when, I assume they’re talking about when you visited me in Boston with people at the hostel.

It hurts initially, and then I remember we weren’t dating, you were free to be with whomever, and you still chose to be with me.

I’ve said all the things I’ve had to say about this, I’ve rationalized it in so many different ways.

If loving you makes me a fool then I’m a fool, and that won’t change.

I just wish I’d stop hearing and feeling things

Isn’t it stupid to be so pained by someone that can’t stand you?

I feel like I’m fucking retarded.

Ex (you) wasn’t in love

Amazing voices, she didn’t love me.

But I “deserve” love.

She didn’t love me just like every other girl in my life that chose someone else.

Who gives a fuck.

It doesn’t matter.