I shouldn't care but I do

How do I stop caring? Voices are talking again, it’s my own fault for maybe missing a few days of medication but they keep saying that “you ate shit” and “you wouldn’t survive.”

I still don’t know what to do about all this, except to come here and vent.

I know I don’t know everything that goes on or went on in that period of our lives when we met but some dialogue, just something to clear this up, some definitive proof so I KNOW I’m just crazy, would be nice.

I don’t think I’ll ever get it but I feel like I need to know what part of my mind/body/soul wants you back so badly, why it wants you back and how I can eliminate him.

I know my last few posts were about me being “over it” and all that jazz but I know I’d come back here all hot and bothered again, it just takes time.

Still, STILL I WANT TO BE DONE, I WANT TO MOVE ON, but goddamit if this isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to accomplish with my life.

And it’s not like I’m hiding this from you or the world, you can see me struggle with this in real time.

Is this even about me though!?

I mean in some way, 90% it is of course, but whatever’s left is what can be done about you???

Quick thought

I think it would, rather I know I would have reached “closure” sooner without my psychosis.

With psychosis it was like facing my feelings and thoughts and desires everyday, without the person of my affection to return or deny their advances.

But without psychosis I wouldn’t be thinking about it as often as with, and perhaps that would make it easier to forget.

That’s what I think and feel anyway.

That all of this would’ve wrapped up sooner.

Your Eyes

Every now and again I wear your face,

The face you used to stare at me on the New York City subway when I was enjoying my music a bit too much.

This knowing face.

A silent command.

Every now and then I peer at things with those eyes,

With that expression,

And it takes me back to you.

For a moment in time I feel we are connected,

Like minded,

Until I turn away.

Your eyes.

Over it?

This medication feels wonderful, feels like I’m Over it and have moved on.

Of course, the irony is that this might be the second or even third time I’ve written a statement like that, but the long wait for closure is done, I’m not looking for it anymore.

In some weird and fucked up way, it feels like I got the closure I so desired.

But now what?

Do I keep updating this blog?

The playlist?

Probably. I can’t help but think of you from time to time, which is how it was before the plague of madness, but we survived that and now I have to go and build a life knowing I had a few screws loose for like 10 years.

Embarrassing.

I’ll be in and out of this.

I love you.

That hasn’t changed.

But I say it with this sadness for what was, and not with the optimism of what could be.

Maybe it’s better to say I loved you.

Maybe.

I think-

I think my medication is working.

Went up 5mg from 15 to 20, been taking it as regularly as I remember and these last two weeks or so have been nice and quiet.

I want to ruin it all sometimes and smoke that weed I got from the random dude the last time I went to the club, but this is honestly kind of nice…

Forgot days could be like this.

Forgot my mind could be like this.

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