I’m your dad

Something something the voices tell me in the time it’s taken me to write this blog, your “father” had already written something and has committed himself to the Zen school/teaching principles of “no thought” as I aspire to as well.

Voices say you’re in a relationship with your father, and while I do not condone incest it’s not like I have much power to stop you.

I’m not operating any radio technology if that part of my conspiracy is true.

And I don’t think my grasp of telepathic communication is strong enough, if that part of my hallucination is true.

Maybe in a few hours the voices will tell me they were talking about “someone else” as they seem to have been doing more and more frequently these last few weeks, but honestly I got so drunk last night I felt like I didn’t even need my medication and I woke up at 10AM, ready to take on the day, only to realize I’m working later at 10PM.

So after I eat I’m going back to bed.

A Wish for Something I'll Never Have

A part of my mind/soul has been corrupted.

As much as it makes sense to try and move on from you, take more steps, position myself even more forward, there is still that longing, nagging sensation that gets coddled by the voices that says we will get back together.

In my mind I try to run away or bury that idea and the feelings that come with it, but I know I’m not really in control of these voices, and the medication only takes me so far before it starts having worse effects.

I mean let’s explore that however.

I want to say “hah, if you approached me and asked to start a relationship I’d say no and spit on you”

but I think the real answer is yes, I would love to start a relationship with you again.

A physical one however, I don’t want to do long distance, and I don’t plan to move to Norway.

Of course, I’ve sent you and I assume you’ve seen the myriad words and pontifications I’ve written about and around the subject but this is the definitive statement: “Sometimes It feels like I can only be with you.”

And the voices echo that I am still in a relationship with you, despite you giving me the cold shoulder at about every attempt I make to contact you.

Hence the cold logic.

But when has logic ever triumphed over matters of the heart?

Fuck.

Carnage

In regards to you, or “somebody else” my mind is filled with stories of sexual exploitation, abuse, mutilation, amputation and death via suicide.

Just carnage.

They clocked your ass lmao

Edited this because apparently this is a two part story (the ad) and makes Black Metal Guys basically look like deadbeat dads. Also I’m sitting here thinking “the reason she doesn’t wear makeup is because her husband would use it/steal it”

Inspiration

Voices keep saying I’m your inspiration, and it just makes me think of this song. I’m not gonna add it to the playlist, it’s like, too on the nose, but it also makes me think of your “Father” for some reason.

P.S.

Voices say if you ever come back to America, Chicago is where you would go, which is cool and all but I laugh to myself and go “Well I’m Boston, y’know, Foreplay/Longtime” hahaha

But there are tons of bands from the 60’s-80’s with American City names. Pick your poison I guess.

Lesbian

Voices keep saying you’ve become a lesbian.

That doesn’t offend me in the slightest.

Your body, your choice.

Take care.

Unknown Erotica

Voices are saying you “didn’t want me to know” about all the sexual antics you could or did get up to during your study abroad trip.

I could’ve just been at home by my computer stroking it to each story you told me blissfully unaware of whatever it was you were cooking up, meet up or not, I still would’ve been into it, into you.

As if I'm going to react like this

It’s pissing me off going back and forth about these future “what if” scenarios as if I’m trying to think them up while I’m on the clock, just to make the time go by faster.

For some reason I’m recalling this movie starring Sasha Grey, former pornstar, “The Girlfriend Experience” from 2009 I guess, and in the final scene of the movie she just hugs this dude and he nuts.

As if that would happen between me and you. I have no idea what would happen if you came into my life, but I’d doubt I’d be that much of a limp dick quick shot.

I feel fucking ANGRY more than I feel happy or even sad, and honestly I don’t know what to do with this anger. Most of the time I just sit with it until it passes, until I think or find something that I can laugh at or about, but this gamut of emotional tug-of-war is getting old.

Here’s the scene from the movie, I think it’s in Spanish. You’ll have to skip to around 1:48:

Mind Melting

Voices say this is “you” and ABWJr.’s relationship: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DQ54FgVju82/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

I really don’t know what to think, or why at 7:40PM the voices have decided to come down on me like a plague of bats or frogs, or knives or whatever the fuck is worse.

I keep getting this headache, which I no longer associate with you, but it’s something about a “Necrophiliac” and I’m thinking in terms of “loving beyond the grave” but this guy seems to be ejaculating into an urn.

I want to rip my own head off.

"Don't wait up"

Voices keep saying you have Chlamydia.

A quick google search shows that Chlamydia is curable.

They say your campaign of revenge is the reason why you or someone told me “don’t wait up” or not to wait for you but honestly had they or you or whomever these voices are been paying attention to my anguished writing they’d know or at least glimpse the struggle I’ve had trying to center someone else at the attention of my affection.

______

Gonorrhea is curable too

_______

I just took a poop and I think someone, something, my brain was trying to make me hallucinate that your face was in my stool. A voice chimed in and said “that you never be [your name]” but also they keep repeating that “you’re a turd” and that’s what you tried to show me when you passed out in Cambridge and I had to hold you/shake you until you awoke. I still don’t know if that was you actually fainting or playing a game with me but here we are, the year 2026, and I’m still writing to what I assume is no one but for all the world to see.

Give me a fucking break.

Do you want to know why I’m so goddamn angry?

During that first e-mail, New Years 2013 or something. That email where I said I was so goddamn angry if I hit you I could kill you.

That anger wasn’t directed at you per say, but I wan angry because after the many trial and error efforts I had made to find love again, with someone else, someone new, I somehow found my way back to a person that didn’t feel the same way about me.

even now as I struggle through a new episode of psychosis, trying to make things work with my current partner who is, far more understanding about my condition I won’t open up about, I still hear your name on the wind, the voices tell me you wanted to be in London, and have already decided to die.

Ok fine whatever, what does any of this have to do with me?

You and I have said plenty already.

I have written enough to fill a library.

You don’t want me.

I accept that.

Why can’t I seem to move on?

That’s what makes me so fucking beyond angry.

That’s the driving force behind my murderous thoughts.

I’ve been trying to do everything the right way.

Give you space. Get therapy, find someone else, use drugs, workout.

Nothing works.

And when the voices try to tell me “oh she’ll get back together with you, you’ll see”

Really likes to write a different tale.

Even now as the conspiracy all unfolds in my mind the voices tell me every actor in my industry was actually someone else trying to agitate a reaction out of me by using your name instead of their own.

So I’m suffering because I loved someone and decided to cut the world off after that, where they “love” me to some idiotic point of no return, a place that says “if I can’t love him than no one can” and try to force me to commit suicide instead of just leaving me alone.

For WEEKS this conundrum has been bouncing around in my skull and while it apparently has little to do with you, you’re the center of it.

I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at the circumstances.

I would have never bothered you if this hadn’t happened but it did, and I’ve spent the better part of 15 years proving at least to myself, if no one else is reading/watching, that there was someone I loved.

And I wish it were just that.