Voices are saying you just threw everything away, that I didn’t mean anything to you, even back then.
Don’t know how true any of that is but, had to put it down on the page so I don’t feel like shit on the way home from work.
Sure, I’m a joke, but no ones laughing.
The “Do it for Denmark” commercials.
You’ve gotta wonder why Norway wasn’t as direct, however, pornography is illegal in Norway, so maybe being this direct is frowned upon or too “on the nose” if you will.
Another sleepless night that I have and only hear about you.
The voices discovered your promiscuity in some part of America, claiming that, and I assume this was Boston, you got pregnant by one of the men in the hostel, and that’s the reason you don’t want to know anymore about your child.
They also say however “this is why no one wants to go to Norway.”
I take that to mean that there’s some covert operation designed by the Norwegian government to increase their population, by having young women go abroad and… “breed” for the sake of preserving and hopefully reviving Norway. Because the last I checked you had a dying language and a shrinking amount of people, but it seems as if every country save the most impoverished ones have an aging population.
Anyway.
The voices say:
“Don’t be [your name] you would not know who you are.”
But that sounds like, identity theft, but turned up to like a BILLION because these promiscuous women that “aren’t you” can somehow disguise themselves with what? High tech spy technology? Light and frequency manipulation? To become your spitting image and then telepathically put that into my mind?!
What the fuck is happening…
and if it’s just the fact that people in your neck of the woods have similar physical features, phenotypes, phrenology, that’s another thing entirely, but still, whatever feelings I have left for you claw at me like some desperate beast when this shit happens and now I’m 3 blogs deep in under 30 minutes and I literally just said out loud
“I don’t want to think of you at all”
Voices are going on about how these men you’re sleeping with are better than me in every way.
I mean good for you?
What can I do other than what I’m already doing?
I’m just trying to make a better life for myself.
I don’t need to be reminded of love lost.
My sleep schedule has been irreparably damaged.
but behind my closed eyes I see what you meant when you said you “worked at a hotel.”
And now I wonder if my mind is poisoned by all of the pornography I watch because I see you making out with some larger, muscular black guy half naked knocking on vacant rooms only to what I assume is you to go in with him or them or whomever and have sex.
Voices say rape.
I don’t feel much about it, I don’t care, but I don’t want to try and sit here as I try to relax and determine if it was “real.”
And this was, immediately after we broke up? When you were “working” at the hotel.
And when I try to find Norwegian porn, or rather, what I’ve found of Norwegian porn the movie “Best Sex of Norway” comes to mind, and there’s a scene where the women are fucking in a hotel, and I wonder if I’m missing out on some horrible inside joke? Some cultural reference I “wouldn’t understand” but mostly because I just don’t have the context. It’s not some greater lived experience that I could only have if I was Norwegian National, I just need to see the source material.
where am I going with this…
I was here ranting and raving. I thought it was at least two weeks ago.
I feel like I never remember anything correctly anymore.
Overstatement sure but these have been a very peaceful, nearly voice free 5 days.
Hoping it stays that way.
I’m not here to talk to you or write about you, I just wanted to see how long it’s been, put down some words and peace out.
Doesn’t feel right to talk about what’s going on in life here. This is the “distress blog”
The good stuff has got to go on the homepage.
Smell ya later ✌️
Voices in my head say you don’t want to be in a relationship with me because you’ve done everything I suggested. Once again, I wonder why you don’t have any agency of your own in my psychosis, because the you I know, the one I remember, didn’t want to do anything she didn’t want to do.
Right now, the voices are saying you’re trying to be a Victoria secret model, and as a result, aged yourself because this exacerbated your eating disorder.
I can’t confirm or deny these things, only you can, what I can do is recognize that I’m hallucinating.
The problem with my medication is that I can’t or shouldn’t drink alcohol when I take it. And apparently it can take up to 7 days to leave my system after I take a pill. I don’t want to give up booze because the only thing left is nicotine, snus, which has a connection with you, because I definitely won’t smoke cigarettes, and smoking weed, while doable, is dumb.
If I could do mushrooms legally I’d probably do that instead. Ah well, I’ll send a letter to my doctor and see what she has to say.
I know you’re not reading this, and it’s safe to assume you aren’t checking the playlist either.
Voices in my head keep going on about you, saying you’re “scared.” But you aren’t here at all, I can see my analytics, I mostly get visits from China and India, most likely scammers.
And maybe one time I got a visit from the Netherlands. Wouldn’t give it a second thought to think it was you.
I kept pulling the “Death” Tarot card, meaning something in my life is coming to an end, and honestly I think it’s this.
Maybe not my psychosis as a whole but me giving you grace.
The more I think about it, the further I get from considering what the voices have to say.
I’m getting to a point where I can laugh when they talk about you. Something that was impossible.
I’m getting to a point where I can smoke weed again. Something else that I thought was impossible. I wouldn’t recommend doing it, but I can do it now and know that what I’m experiencing isn’t real. There’s no “conspiracy” my brain is just malfunctioning or something like that.
I wish we could’ve talked at least once. Beyond the email where you told me you’d spread racism and call the cops.
But goddamn, do I want to be with that person? Hell fucking no.
What even happened to you? Or were you always like this.
I have questions I’ll never get answers to I suppose.
Nice knowing you.
Voices are saying you went to the Middle East, I assume for fun? My brother went to Dubai with friends a few years ago but voices are saying you went, and went sky diving, but they stopped you from jumping because you had no parachute in your backpack.
So then you stayed back and slept with/were raped by the guy that held you back, and he defecated on you, in some extent, and that’s the reason why you don’t want to take your clothing off anymore.
Hey this is brand spanking new for the voices and far fetched for me too but again, I write to dispose of these thoughts/scenarios.
Voices today are saying you’re a Nazi, and that you eat feces.
Apparently you’re a Nazi in response to being brutally sexually assaulted by your Norwegian kin, but the Nazi’s believed that Northern Europeans were the “superior race” so it makes no sense that you’d worship the same people you hold against all of your ire.
That’s paradoxical.
They also say you are your husbands feces, and that’s a reason why you can’t separate from him, however, I had to Google why was there this correlation in the voices in my head talking about eating shit and being a Nazi, and I found it in the following image… weird…
Voices have been saying lately that you, with your maiden name, committed suicide.
Of course, every time they say that I think I can just look up your actual name, and if you’re still working at your company website.
I haven’t done that, in a few months. Don’t know exactly how long but again, I’m trying.
The reason I bring this up is because I think it’s like, some kind of, “reverse” suicidal ideation?
As if the voices think if I hear about your supposed death/suicide, I’ll willingly kill myself.
They say things like “if you really wanted to be with her you would commit suicide.”
This isn’t suicidal ideation, as if I’m romanticizing it for myself, and if I were to kill myself, it’d be for the opposite reason. Not to “see you on the other side” but to not be a nuisance to you, or anyone else.
That’s what was running through my mind when I was in prison in Norway. I just didn’t want to bother anyone anymore.
But again, I thought about my mother, and how it would destroy her. Her life, getting back on track, and what ripples that would send through our community, here in Boston and abroad.
And now, I’m glad I didn’t go through with it, because I’m surrounded by people that sing my praises, and want to see me do well.
Basically what I’m saying is I’ve found a reason to live, and got a new lease on life.
I talked to my mom about it the other day and she said people like me because I’m “lovable” which is something I don’t even think I’d ever hear from you, or any other ex I’ve had.
It’s just… regardless of all these great people, and me being good to them in return, for some reason my mind is not only out of my control, but fixed on people like you, that either feel nothing for me, or what nothing to do with me, and you people seem to be people that I love, so so so so very much.
That, is another cruel joke within itself.
And it’s not funny.
Voices like to say things and then say “that’s the opposite” but for me, it might as well be the truth.
This is one tactic they have to get me wrapped up in their warped world.
Just now they said “[your name] doesn’t care about me, I already hate/ate the shit of [your husbands name] I will stay here”
Then quickly a voice says, “that’s the opposite.”
So I’m made to believe what, exactly? That although you love your husband you are constantly thinking of me and will leave him? When? Soon? 10 years from now?
It’s this confusing rhetoric that drives me to write. I can’t really function if I’m constantly trying to determine what’s real and what isn’t. What the future holds or if I’m holding on too tightly to my past.
I don’t try to debate or decipher it, mostly, I’m just writing to dispose of it, and go about my day.
Voices say you never wanted to be “the one” for anyone, because you’d end up being suicidal.
If you have any agency in my psychic reality, you don’t have to be “the one” for me.
Voices also say, all the time, that I can “be with anyone” but you can’t. I don’t necessarily believe them, you’re with someone else right now, I assume, but the point is, I’m trying to move on.
I’m doing my damndest, I even have a date this weekend, and you know, if you read this, that last week I mustered up the courage, keg stomach and all, to ask a girl for her number, and she gave it to me.
At least I know I tweeted that, maybe I didn’t write a blog… but still, the point is, you don’t have to be “the one.”
It’d be nice.
Kismet and all that jazz, but while we are all stars, life doesn’t have to be dictated by them.
Ya’know?
I know I love you, the opposite doesn’t seem to be true, and I suppose, in some cruel joke that is these feelings that I’ve felt, that’s okay.
Peace and Love.
I know I wrote a lot last night…
You wouldn’t give up a good life with a good job and a wonderful husband to be with a just above broke black guy living paycheck to paycheck in a country falling faster and faster in a tailspin of fascism.
Beyond that, I don’t think the tap water here is as good as it is over in your neck of the woods.
This isn’t a “depressive episode” as in one of the symptoms I could suffer from because of my disorder.
I just have to pull it together.
I’m being played like a fiddle by my own brain, my own mind, it’s in my body, I was born with it, it’s not like I can swap it for another one and yet, it betrays me.
Chalk it all up to the madness, but the voices said something earlier tonight, something along the lines of “an example of being in control of your reality.”
Because I know other people, a person, with my condition, if not worse, that’s decided to live on disability insurance, yet here I am, busting my butt and putting one foot in front of the other to make ends meet.
In a way, it’s admirable, but it would be so much easier to just stay in an institution for the rest of my life. So much easier to just completely conform to insanity, by another ticket to Norway and do no good for anyone.
I won’t.
I think I’m better than that.
I think I’m beyond that.
And more than anything I don’t want to cause you any more harm or stress.
But I think this love I have for you, I have for you more than anyone else.
Which is a painful truth to admit.
I will go on.
I will survive.
And maybe someone will replace you.
Maybe.
But with all the themes and the media I see, I doubt it.
It was just a one of a kind love, a special moment in time, ephemeral, and unique.
People meet all the time via the internet nowadays, sure, but they didn’t have what we had.
No one else could.
Take care.
I’m not done blogging, I’ll be back in one of my fugue states, but still,
Take care.
So my disease, I learned today, schizo affective disorder, is like a combination of schizophrenia AND bipolar disorder.
I feel like I’ve managed my “mood” alright, even though you can tell what I’m feeling in my writing, but I definitely feel the “racing thoughts” and “depressive episodes” albeit, they usually come on, with the voices.
I remember the first email I sent you when I was “so angry I could hit you and kill you” but I haven’t felt like that in a LONG time.
Mostly it’s the racing thoughts that come alongside the voices.
I imagine scientists find this disease hard to treat…
I don’t know where I’m going with this, it’s just a new discovery that I found out today.
I have this fantasy playing in my mind that you’ll just show up on my doorstep.
Or that I’ll meet you at the airport.
Voices tell me you’ve died, but some women that looks similar or exactly like you has your old ID as proof, and I just embrace her.
I call it a fantasy.
Because with everything I know, that’s impossible, right?
I call it a fantasy.
And yet, it calls to me.
Playing on my heartstrings and I recite its song on this blog as if I’m singing to a sold out stadium.
Someone help me.
God help me.
Someone, you, again.
And I’m making steps in the right direction, but earlier today I said to myself “it’s like no matter how far I get this shit (voices) just keep pulling me back.”
I’m not, “determined,” to “be with you in the end” if that makes sense.
But the voices come on and that part of me that just wants to talk and hug and kiss and fuck makes you the center of my affections.
How do I stop that?
Can I stop that?
A friend of mine said to me the other day:
“I think our beliefs shape our reality.”
So am I holding myself back? By giving myself the space to love you in the past or present?
Is that what’s keeping me tethered to these feelings?
Or is it just my madness reminding me of what once was?
Like I wish I could just sit in those feelings without feeling like a retard.
I wish you really were waiting for me at the end of my shift, that I was waking it to you, or coming home to you, and that with love, with a partner set in stone, I could just focus on everything else I want to do with my life, knowing I picked someone that picked me, and we are happy.
But no, I have to fight off the warm and fuzzy feelings like they’re fucking demon’s trying to poison the pure land I’ve found myself after dedicating my mind and soul to zen.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!!
Do you have any idea how challenging this is?!
COULD YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW CHALLENGING THIS IS?!
These fucked up thoughts of rape and infidelity in a relationship that was barely there, to constantly doubt myself, shred my confidence, think that my love was a lie and a cosmic joke for the pleasure of some apathetic god!
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.
I am divided in myself and I want to set fire to the world.
And then I remember to breathe.
And I drink a beer.
And I do some snus.
Another remnant of you, but I’m sure I’m just addicted now.
And then I’m here, like I am right now, at home, in bed, YouTube on in the background as I remind myself I need to sleep before 4:00AM so I can get to work on time and pay for this life I’m lucky enough to still be living.
I fucking hate this shit so goddamn much.
I’m not forcing any smiles, but also, I’m not telling the entire truth.
This is the truth, it exists, for you, and anyone else that stumbles upon it, but I know I put it here so I don’t have to bring it with me everywhere else in my day to day.
Fuck this.