Also-

While the voices go on about how rape was currency as you travelled through South America, I had to sit here and talk myself down, knowing now that when I think of you I go back to happier memories and also have to sit with the fact that I may never be that happy (with you) ever again. That’s practically confirmed at this point.

Pour it on…

I know I’ve gone over this before, if that before was when I was more insane than I am now, but the voices are saying that guy you “kissed at the door” in the DR was either a lie or a half truth, because they now claim you actually had sex with them.

But I recall what I said on my side of the planet:

“There’s nothing I could do.”

And, yeah while I may have been, I think, “disappointed” that it all happened, a kiss or otherwise, like I’ve also been saying recently, we were both young, dumb, and full of cum.

And I can’t go back in time to change the past and if I could I don’t think I’d want to.

What I want is for you to have eyes and hands and teeth and tongue for me and me only, and if that’s unrealistic or a hard lesson for you to adhere to then whatever, I’m not trying to sit here and “regret” ever interacting with you because we did meet ourselves, you and I, and you brought me so much fucking JOY.

I know I haven’t talked about that given, all of this, but that’s the one thing that maybe keeps me in love with you:

I was so fucking happy and you really have no idea.

Or maybe you do, because I’ve been talking around that point of my life for the last 15+ years.

Fuck whomever you want, do whatever you want, live however you want.

It’s not like you’re coming home to me.

Murder

Voices say I’m afraid because you have murdered someone before.

But then the voices said “we all have” like plural.

I remember the story of the guy in the DR that got tased in the nuts, but that didn’t kill him, did it?

If anything he probably just passed out.

Of course I don’t blame any of you for not sticking around to find out.

Hah.

Bizarro

Bizarro is the opposite of Superman.

I know at one point you called me Superman, so maybe it’s possible that whomever your with, or whomever you inspired you to leave me is Bizarro.

What I just heard is that “you don’t want to say anything because you have to figure out how to say the opposite.”

Hence the title, “Bizarro”.

Recently in comics Bizarro got magical powers, and devastated reality. Superman obviously saved the day but not without going insane first. Let me see if I can find the video:

Edit:

I have a subscription to Marvel Unlimited and the D.C. Comics App, I sit here and wonder if you’d want the username and password so you could read too, if you’re even into comics.

I don’t know, I want to be your friend so badly…

Space Racism

I guess I should be blaming the planets

This is not the entire post

Fuck.

This already happens to me constantly…

Spiraling

My hallucinations manifest before me. Last night I saw Howard try to emulate me by hanging himself, and you threw the chair out from under his feet and he got scared and claimed he almost died, and you said you wanted him too.

The voices keep trying to get me to think that no woman in Boston wants me, if I make eye contact with another woman I get this “rush” and she in my mind says “she is not [your name] and never will be.” That happened when I was grocery shopping last Saturday.

The voices want me to think we’re getting back together, at some point, and you already have property you either own or manage or someone else close to you owns or manages here in Boston, nearby, not too far from Savin Hill station.

It’s wearing me down.

I don’t think I’ll ever “believe” the delusions but maybe, day by day I’m slowly wishing it were true.

I just want to speak to you again, who knows where it goes from there.

Yesterday I heard Howard say he’s been waiting for you since you were 16, and you indicated that I’ve been waiting much longer.

But also, somehow I’m not just waiting around for you, since I have a job, despite my mental health.

It’s all, very tiring.

At the same damn time

What’s odd to me is that while we all exist at this historic moment in History, American History, is that I have to deal with this.

I’ve written about being divided before, between the me that has to face objective reality and the me that never ceases to love you.

And now I’m an “informed American citizen” and the lunatic that shoots first into the crowd of officers.

It’s not that I don’t know what to think, rather, I wonder how I’m still operational.

All the inspirational music or speeches in the world really feels like it doesn’t hold a candle to how I keep ticking away.

I mean I’ve read all of that, a good portion of that material, but now I’m embodying it… and that feels kind of alien, when you zoom out.

From the Laptop

Like I’ve said, I’ve continued to take my medication during this new ordeal, and the voices, while not absent, are quieter.

I don’t know if I should attribute that to medication or alcohol but it worked, at least for the last 48 hours.

Voices are acting surprised, I feel like I’m hallucinating almost, “outlines” of people, seeing “aura” or like people are in stealth camo, bending light aound them but you can faintly see them when they move.

I don’t know what to do anymore, but I don’t want to be a burden either.

I pick one foot up and the other one follows.

Thats it.

5 shots of Capt. Morgan later…

I didn’t take my meds last night because I had drank so much alcohol, 5 shots of Captain Morgan’s rum.

Ironically, the alcohol I think, worked better than my medication, as I was at least unaware of any voices that had been bothering me for these last few weeks.

It reminded me of my terrible twenties, all the way back to when I was heartbroken that we were separated, and new to psychosis.

I want a beer, but today I bought some cigarettes, the voices last night told me I could smoke weed again, and I haven’t heard them all day today.

Really I just feel like I don’t know what to do, and while it’s necessary to hold space for reality: that we will/may never meet again-

The voices have done immeasurable damage to my imagination, as I think about what I would do if we were to get back together, in Boston, married in court, living in a house in Savin Hill, maybe renting out or making an Airbnb of the other two floors because yes this house is a triple decker for some reason.

And I don’t want to think about it, I don’t sit down and start focusing my thoughts on it, I’m not hoping wishing and praying for it, because in that same imaginary situation, you kill me in my sleep, as if getting back together is just one last troll fr a double murder suicide homicide case, and yeah when you compare apples to apples I guess you can see the juxtaposed love and fear, paranoia and obsession, in doctors terms, that I have bouncing around my mind and driving me even further into the abyss.

I want to be normal but these are the cards I’ve been dealt, unfortunately I suppose…

It’s snowing right now. I went out and sold some tech for extra money and got the groceries… but I could really use a beer… might just order some to the house instead of going out again.

Behind my back

Voices say a lot of things. Voices say the “friend” that I brought to New York to meet you the first time had sex with you too, because you were “turned all the way up.”

I can’t confront him on it, and I already have, and he gave me some story that he was also trying to rizz you up, my question is though, why does everything happen behind my back?

The voices make it sound like no one is honest with me,

that everyone is out to get me,

or they covet what I possess.

why? What did I do to deserve this?

None of the people I’ve confronted have decided to confront me, my “psychic reality” is wholly unfounded, and yet there is some solace happening, some healing some quelling of an unruly spirit, regardless of my own actions.

I hate this.

Lab Experiment/Labeksperiment

Voices say, you have stabbed out both of our eyes, so you can’t read this, or maybe someone can read it to you, if there was anyone like that around.

Someone would have to be around, or you’re in for a terrible fate, not that you aren’t in some way prepared for it I suppose.

As of right now I can’t think of the state you’re in as more than a lab experiment, because the voices say you want to use STEM cells to rebuild and regrow your eyes.

Did I send you an article about something similar? That was so long ago, and I still haven’t gotten through all of those emails.

Anyway, here’s the translation:

Stemmer sier: «Du har stukket ut begge øynene våre, så du kan ikke lese dette, eller kanskje noen kan lese det for deg, hvis det fantes noen slike i nærheten.»

Noen måtte jo være i nærheten, ellers venter deg en forferdelig skjebne, ikke at du ikke på noen måte er forberedt på det, antar jeg.

Akkurat nå kan jeg ikke tenke på tilstanden du er i som mer enn et laboratorieeksperiment, fordi stemmene sier at du vil bruke STEM-celler til å gjenoppbygge og gjenoppbygge øynene dine.

Sendte jeg deg en artikkel om noe lignende? Det var så lenge siden, og jeg har fortsatt ikke kommet meg gjennom alle de e-postene.

Someone else’s sadness

Voices are telling me it was either you or your cousin that sat next to me on the train all those years ago.

Sat next to me and didn’t engage, just looked me in the eye as I walked past her, perturbed.

If it was you why would you choose to toy with and torture me like that?

You have every avenue of communication available to you to tell me if you want to see me and you just “spontaneously” decide to surprise me as I am on my commute to work?

Please grow up, I don’t appreciate it.

Shadow Play

From Wikipedia:

Shadow play, also known as shadow puppetry, is an ancient form of storytelling and entertainment which uses flat articulated cut-out figures (shadow puppets) which are held between a source of light and a translucent screen or scrim. The cut-out shapes of the puppets sometimes include translucent color or other types of detailing. Various effects can be achieved by moving both the puppets and the light source. A skilled puppeteer can make the figures appear to walk, dance, fight, nod and laugh.

There are four different types of performances in shadow play: the actors using their bodies as shadows, puppets where the actors hold them as shadows in the daytime, spatial viewing, and viewing the shadows from both sides of the screen.[1]

Shadow play is popular in various cultures, among both children and adults in many countries around the world. More than 20 countries are known to have shadow show troupes. Shadow play is an old tradition and is listed as a Syrian intangible cultural heritage by UNESCO.[2] It also has a long history in Southeast Asia, especially in Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, and Cambodia. It has been an ancient art and a living folk tradition in China, India, Iran and Nepal. It is also known in Egypt, Turkey, Greece, Germany, France, and the United States.[3][4][5][6]