Been a while…

Haven’t blogged in a while, and not because I haven’t been thinking of it, more because I haven’t been hearing voices as often as when I was dropping these posts.

It’s nice, the window of clarity.

But I’ve been confronting this thought, this thought that says maybe I don’t love you.

And that’s an easy thing to answer, I get wrapped up in all this emotion because of my affliction and those emotions may not be just raw sadness or anger but they could be the lovey-dovey feelings too.

Maybe.

Maybe that’s how it all works, but I just got a pit in my stomach writing that, trying to rationalize it all away.

For a while I thought “well the honeymoon feelings are over” and now it’s the hard part and grit of sticking to someone you made a vow you’d never let go of, if we were married of course, we aren’t, never have been, but I put you in that context. I put you in this box and say “yes, I would wade through the murk with you” but is love and marriage all “murk” and “swamp” after the feel good chemicals have run out in our brains?

That’s what it is, the feel good chemicals seem to be running out, and I’m landing face first upon the cold concrete of reality: I’ve been a menace, and I don’t think I deserve to be loved back by you.

I want it, more than anything in the world, which also makes me think I can’t just rationalize this away, but do I deserve it? I don’t know, and I don’t think so.

After everything ive done I still feel so fucking stupid. Typing it out, typing this out has got the feelings rising up again, the hills and valleys, the fire in my belly, the long slow death of logically putting you in your place in the back of my mind, like I’m saving room for someone new to love and care for.

Just know this my future lover: I cannot love you like I love her, it takes too much from me. I think I will be a bit more selfish in my next love affairs maybe, unless I love you more than I love this one.

The love will be different, it has to be, because this love became madness, a madness I do not want again.

Gotta be a Good Reason

There’s gotta be a half-decent reason why you’re not speaking to me.

Over and over, day after day I write down these thoughts and hearings to make sure I’m at least one tick less crazy.

And I give you access to this, access to myself and you refuse to use it, so there must be a damn good reason, and to that point, a damn good reason why the voices say you’d go to all the lengths just to avoid my shallow breath, half the way across the world.

Voices keep saying you’d be a lesbian before you’d get near me with a 10 foot pole.

Fine, have it your way! Not that I am saying I believe them but with the way you’ve treated me up to this point I might as well, that is almost the veritable truth!

Goddamn.

Too little, too late

I just about had maybe a week with no voices, and now they’re back.

Desperately I want to think I love you despite them being in my head, not because they’re in my head, but I think back to New York, when you tied my shoelaces together.

What the fuck was going on with you?

I feel like when I think about that time, back then, the past, it was always me just noticing things too late, like you were always just able to get away with whatever nefarious plot you had been party to.

And that shit makes me feel bad, for whatever reason I get a hole in my stomach and I just want it to go away. To walk away from all this, but here I am again, writing to myself I suppose, and anyone that wants to read this.

Expiration Date

Does love have an expiration date?

Maybe for some and not for others, I don’t know, I feel like I’m just taking advantage of this window of clarity to think opposite of my symptoms.

Maybe I don’t love you.

Maybe I am crazy.

But that also invites this idea that I will never form a relationship with anyone else.

That I may never love anyone else.

That I’ll be alone chasing hedonistic dreams instead of building a home, and maybe a family one day.

I don’t know.

Over Active Imagination

Voices in my head say you don’t exist anymore.

Not that you’ve died, more like you’ve never been.

In this chatter I go and think somewhere down the line, some women that looks exactly like you, shows me her information. She has a story for me “(your name) is no more, but she told me if I were to ever find you, that I should love you in her place.”

Seriously?

Where the fuck do I come up with this shit…

Stevie Wonder

Schrodinger's Relationship

I don’t know if we have the potential for a relationship or if you hate me and will never ever see me again.

However, I have evidence, I suppose, of one of these outcomes, the latter, but the voices are saying “that was the opposite.”

My psychosis is evolving, ever changing, gaining new insight and details into what’s going on, on your side of the world.

Whatever piece of me, alien or otherwise that’s holding on to you makes me care about this, but logically I should just cast this aside like garbage, but I can’t seem to do that, or at least, what actually happens is like a video game, damage over time. Say, I’m poisoned with thoughts of you, and while one storyline of my psychosis might not be anything to worry about, overtime the stories build up and I have to do something with the feelings that build up with the hallucinations/delusions. If that makes sense.

So I have evidence that we’ll never see each other again. Fine.

Be that as it may, and I didn’t want to make this a birthday post, I keep hearing that Howard can’t get an erection. Similarly, they said the same thing about ABWJr, or that he didn’t want to get erect, sometimes saying he wished he could get erect.

I keep thinking of all the ads I saw for male enhancement pills, over and over again and, granted while I was going crazier, I noticed that Howard doesn’t have much of a presence on social media, not much of a digital footprint. so if he can’t get erect, or hasn’t investigated male enhancement drugs, its because he isn’t online.

But the other reason he can’t get erect might be because of the curse of being closely related. While there may be many Howards I know I met one, and I know the one you looked at in that photo with all 3 of us, so I assume it’s him, and if it’s him, he’s your brother, and it makes sense.

Still, had he considered male enhancement it’s a double-edged sword, because no doubt he can probably get erect for someone he isn’t related to, naturally, so long as he’s attracted to them, because if he uses “dick pills” he might run the risk of chemical dependency, or, chemical castration.

And now my mind is clear.

I keep hearing the voices say about me “he can get erect” every time I go to jerk off. It’s odd, and I’ve been hearing it for a while now, but I suppose the “poison damage” of these hallucinations has finally done critical damage. Really it’s like Psychic Damage… Poison Psychic Damage… lol

Not interested

Just heard some voice say I was talking to your dad.

And just heard a female sounding voice scream my name from outside my window.

Gonna make this abundantly clear: I’m not interested in being some butt boy for your father.

I want you, and no one else.

If I can’t have you, that’s fine, but don’t send any substitutes, either.

Rant

I don’t know what these voices, hallucinations expect of me.

I mean, if they’re really of me and my mind, wouldn’t they also know all the things I’ve done to get your attention?

I’ve tried it all.

Bought flowers.

Sent gifts.

Jeg forstor litt norsk! Mange litt med jeg forstor!

I wrote that sentence without Google Translate btw.

So yeah, there is, in my opinion, very little I can do, very little left todo. Unless I want to get arrested for a second time.

Lord help me.

On being an “animal”

Voices say the first time we met up in New York when it was the four of us, had I insisted on having sex right then and there or anytime during the visit without proper accommodation I’d be considered on your eyes, an “animal” and if that were the case then you could and would be with just about any man because we can all fulfill that role.

P.S.

If someone had suggested a place to fuck outside of where I was staying (with my aunt) I would’ve been down to “be an animal” but with the rush of hormones flooding our brains it’s clear to me that both parties weren’t able to think straight. You could’ve invited me back into the hostel, I definitely didn’t have enough money for a separate hotel room in New York.

This is such an odd thing to be thinking about, 17 some odd years later. It’s like my brain hasn’t recovered from that blast of endorphins in 2009, or whatever year it was.

On being an “animal”

Voices say the first time we met up in New York when it was the four of us, had I insisted on having sex right then and there or anytime during the visit without proper accommodation I’d be considered on your eyes, an “animal” and if that were the case then you could and would be with just about any man because we can all fulfill that role.