It’s good that we’re not together.
You can go ride off into the sunset with whomever you truly love or your true partner in crime and leave me in the center of town.
If it’s all true good riddance, I don’t want to see you again.
If it’s all a delusion, just me hallucinating then say something, because omfg
Voices keep saying while you were “studying abroad” that you were “cheating on me with someone else the whole time”
Great, I hope that relationship worked out for you?
I’d get into all the reasons why I even thought a long distance relationship would work for me at that time but it really, doesn’t, matter.
You have your life without me.
I have my life, without you.
At the end of the day, if you won’t engage with me, I have to face the music.
One thing that keeps playing in my head is that your family had planned to murder me that time I met them in New York.
The voices keeping bringing other black boys into the situation, impatient while you sucked your father off and was stabbed by who I assume is Howard, but your “mother” had a camera to what? Take pictures or video and send them to the distressed family???
The voices keep bringing up the others and going “he wouldn’t survive” blah blah blah.
Leave it to me to be in love with what sounds like the worst person in the human race.
Goddamn.
Somebody, with a big brain figured out you would hate to be me because you’d (I’d) get cheated on.
Amazing.
And most of these down bad mother fuckers are either stealthily in the closet or hate their partner low-key.
Being cheated on is basically a rite of passage if that’s the fucking alternative.
So the voices are saying this is why there was a condom on the floor under your bed when I came in to get you for the graduation dinner.
I mean did they force you? Hold you down? Were you willing? Is this why you are shit?
So many more FUCKING questions.
SO. MANY!
I’m fat, I’m a nerd, I work a job that doesn’t give me the time of day to hang out with people, I’m trying to better myself, what the fuck do you want with me?!
This relationship I keep remembering is almost 20 years ago and yes I know it was significant for me it does not appear to have brought up the same or even similar feelings for the second party so please just leave me the fuck alone.
Connected to the last post, and with a rubber because you didn’t want to “remember” any of them.
That’s valid, a girl I used to sleep around with said she would never forget what I tasted like.
God knows what it would be like to remember tasting men you felt nothing for.
Which again calls back to rape and sexual assault.
More revelations from the voices though.
I don’t know what is real.
Only what’s in front of me.
Voices are saying you made a deal with those guys at the hostel to have sex with one of them every night in exchange for the alcohol they had.
Well, it’s a good thing we weren’t a couple at the time.
Voices say this is why you feel/felt fake as hell.
Well, it’s in the past now where there’s nothing I can do about it, if it’s true.
But if I bring even a modicum of care or concern into this situation I only saw you with that bottle once, and it’s not like you were shit faced or even seemed buzzed the other times I went to visit you or drop you off.
Still, because I’m such a bleeding heart, I want to know the truth, more so I can disavow these voices completely and finally.
But maybe that will never happen.
Maybe I’m destined to think of you with no response for the rest of my life, doomed to live on a plane of hell filled with love.
Agony.
P.S.
Voices are confirming not sex, but rather, fellatio.
Alright.
It’s one thing to hear the voices and think what they say has veracity but why can’t I just believe what they say is true?
It’s one thing to hear them and try to keep my head screwed on straight but my god is this so tiresome.
If I could/would just believe everything they say in some respects I’d feel much much better.
If you wanted to be with him, why did I meet you? Why did any of this have to happen?
If you wanted to be his “hoe,” what was the point in getting to know me?
The voices are assailing me with all these anecdotes and I just sit here, shocked and amazed.
There’s quite literally nothing I can do about it, and my own professions of love and attraction fall on deaf ears and blind eyes, so why can’t I just move on, and blaze a trail through these emotions toward someone else that will love me with just as much if not more passion that I feel for them?
Why do these voices talk about you?
Why does it always come back to you?
Do the voices know that you hate me?
Have you told them?
Can you tell them?
Do they even have your side of the story, or your best interest in mind?
Sacre bleu.
Voices are bringing me back to the time we were walking down Newbury street with your hand in mind, and then you wrestled your hand out of mine and ran into the street, where a car was a few feet away from hitting you.
I remember you took my wallet, looked through it and maybe asked me for my credit card and I didn’t have one then, and you gave me back my wallet.
Voices say you would’ve stolen my credit card and run away, and then Howard would’ve eaten it, and I suppose what, you would’ve mailed me his feces as a way to “troll” me and give it back?
The more they describe dreadful situations like this the more it makes me feel like I dodged a bullet.
I can’t help how I feel in the heat of the moment sometimes but if all these atrocities are true and you can’t “just be normal” about shit then good riddance I guess? What the fuck do these voices expect me to do?
And the reason you forcefully left my grip is because the specter of a girl I went to high school with was “turned all the way up” and made you “eat shit” the voices say.
That girl killed herself like two years ago, so it’s safe to say you don’t have to worry about her anymore.
Voices this morning say you only like ABWJr because he’s a dud. He’s lost all his ambition and drive, which makes him appealing to you.
I haven’t, and I’m still trying to go places with my art I suppose, and in your mind maybe you still “never want to be with a celebrity” and that’s what I’m inching by closer towards, not because I want to, but really because that’s the nature of art/entertainment.
I accept that for what it is, if it’s true.
These words I write aren’t me trying to convince you to be with me, I’m just getting this shit out of my head.
Writing that more for myself than I am for you.
Don’t remember writing about this, but voices keep saying you like ABWJr/Aaron Handsomeboy better than me because he is also “scared” like you are/were.
They keep showing me scenes in my mind of you with multiple men, Thailand, the Dominican Republic, etc. Oh but it’s always “someone else.”
I don’t fucking know that.
And I don’t blame you.
It’s in the past.
I’ve forgiven you as much as I’m going to forgive you so I’d appreciate that the voices would let it go and let what I’m seeing fade into the darkness behind my eyes.
Voices say if we were together you’d be unfaithful, and regularly if not constantly cheat on me with either men or women, whatever suits your fancy.
I’ve given you all the love I can muster from myself over these last few years.
My ups and downs, my quick thinking and turn arounds.
I just want the voices to stop talking about you.
I’d be able to move on then.
There isn’t anyone else on the planet I’ve given this much time and attention to, and still you won’t love me back.
I’m not going to try and force you either.
They say loving someone means to stand beside them and the thousand deaths they have for the people they turn into. Something like that.
I just believe loving you is being able to let you go and do what you need to, to do what’s good for you.
I don’t know where I’m going with this.
I’m gonna stop typing now.
Voices keep bringing up when you have your “father” a blowjob in front of me at the hostel.
Voices say you “would’ve done anything to stay yourself” and “That’s why you shouldn’t want to be someone else”
There’s a lot going through my mind, how if this is true, and I’m some totem made man that reminds you sexual assault, fine, stay away from me, but another part of me thinks “that’s impossible, there must have been something else going on.”
I’m at work, just trying to make ends meet, but I have to write this out of my mind because it’s dragging me back to a time and place that doesn’t exist anymore and doesn’t want me there.
Voices in my head are saying there are or were people if not forces in your life trying to get you to commit suicide.
Voices say you’re laughing at this blog dedicated to you, and that while YLVIS almost took me up on my offer to make me and my online yearning into a joke, the voices also confirmed that no one would laugh.
I just want them to stop bringing you up. That’s all I need to happen now.
P.S.
Also something about “being the biggest slut”
When it snows or something idk
The heart wants what it wants.
And at the same time: I don’t want to take you away from anything good for you.
The reality is that I’m working poor here in Boston.
I have dreams and ambition, yes, but I don’t have the money to see them come true.
While I am working on that, if you’re living a comfortable life in Norway, like I imagine you are, sans my campaign of harassment, don’t leave.
Not that you even considered that.
Unless the voices in my head are telling the truth. That you’re a millionaire and your life in Boston is currently being set up by other agents/actors in my psychosis that I can’t name, because I that important to you, fine, join me then. Please.
I’m waiting for you and I am not waiting for you.
While I try to hate you my greatest emotion is to love you.
While I want to see you and speak to you I understand why you’d rather avoid me.
I feel like a contradiction.
I feel like I’m twisted and turning, my legs screwed on backwards while I try to march forward in my life.
This is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do: love and let go.
And I try, I felt like I had it all figured out and then psychosis happens and every other thought or sound is about a woman I’ll never see again.
A woman I may never have the chance to hold again.
A woman I will never have the privilege to love again.
Well, I’m loving you as I write: but that’s not what I mean.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DaBSirdPtZi/?igsh=MXRvdGoyNG5saXh5MA==
Earlier, as I was listening to some music and eating after midnight, a voice in my head was screaming “DONT TAKE A PICTURE OF ME!!!”
The feeling, the idea was that the voice belonged to you, but you know if you wanted to talk to me, you would, and you’d have every avenue to do so.
You have my email.
My phone number.
Maybe you’ve even saved my address.
That link goes to an Instagram video about what “love” is, and how it’s evolved in the year 2026.
Truth be told I’m not sure I’m made for love in the year of our lord 2026.
Polyamory, Aromantics, even traditional dating for marriage, I’m just kind of sick of all of it.
I want to be hot, have hot friends, and we fuck each other once in a while.
That’s as baseline as I can get I think, and I’m not hot right now, at least I don’t think so, so it’s just me and my hands making the most of it lmao.
I don’t know why my psychosis is still so focused on you.
I know for a fact we’d have to feel each other out before we did anything together again.
And even in the scenario where I blindly accept you coming back into my life, after that brief honeymoon phase I know I’m asking probing questions to figure out what the fuck you’re doing back on my side of the world.
You’d be on my side, because I’d get arrested on your side. Maybe. It’s been a while but I doubt the police trust me. I don’t trust me.
And when I say that I don’t mean I would want to stalk you to hurt you. I really just wanted to talk.
I bought chocolates and everything!
But maybe they weren’t chocolates you’d like…
Anyway, that’s in the past.
I have to worry about the present.
And hopefully, I can look forward to my future.