I have the picture still, of me wearing your travel pack in New York.
Voices say you gave a guy a handjob right behind me as I was looking at the squirrel. I remember turning to look at you, you took my picture, but that guy, did he spit on you?
And then he walked a bit forward and disappeared…
The voices play “everything I say is the opposite.”
Then they go, you wanted to be with ABWJr.
“That’s the opposite.” They say.
And then I hear something like “Dan Fairclough you’re the only one I want to be with!”
But if the first statement was “the opposite” how can I trust the next one? If I’m not the only one, I’m not stopping you from being with anyone else.
My love isn’t trying to possess or control you, disembodied voice.
Be free!
I know I can trust what these voices say, and I’ve heard so much, but I really want this to be over and for some reason I see no end in sight.
It sucks.
Voices say you would laugh at me while and after talking with me online and then go and have sex with your cousin.
While that sounds like someone else the voices have been talking about, they’re attributing it to you.
Another voice goes “Dan doesn’t want to know anything” and while somehow they seem aware of that, they keep telling me things and I keep typing.
I’m not writing as a former begging to “get you back.”
If any of this shit is true you sound like one of the worst people that could ever exist in the history of humanity.
And while I’d like to hear it from the horses mouth I have no hope of that either.
This is so dumb and so unnecessary it feels like, to me at least, but maybe I’m the only one.
Voices say if we were together at some point in the past you would’ve left me in the middle of the night.
Maybe it’s the opposite.
Maybe they’re talking about someone else,
But that’s what they just said.
They also said you’re having to explain your “study abroad” trip to Steinar, because he keeps up with what I write, and if that’s true that means he reads all of this.
Hello.
I apologize for being insane, if any of that is true.
He may never read this but Michael Suliman Fonseca is a voice in my head and I don’t know how to tell him.
Voices earlier in the day said you were emulating/pretending to be him, while also defecating on yourself during certain emotionally tense situations.
In my memory, I think at least, there was a day when we were teenagers and I was spending the night at his place when he walked into his closet, came out and said “do you get it?”
Apparently I didn’t understand, and when it was explained to me, I laughed my ass off.
He’s been holding that against me ever since, the voices say.
Recently, up to a few moments ago his voice said “Dan Fairclough was the only one I ever wanted.”
And earlier in the day they said “don’t ever be as connected as MSF.”
This whole thing about people and their desires/love for another person, his voice was speaking as if I don’t have any agency over my own body, my own feelings, who I like or don’t like. As if his desire and will are enough to make the world spin around.
Even though I’m crazy about you, I still know and always champion that your life is yours and mine is my own. Even when I practiced that magic spell to bring you back into my life, I let it be on your terms. I’m not one for this controlling and possessive kind of “love.”
So at the end of the day this is everything I’ve been suffering through today, July 4th, 2026.
I’m hoping the rest of my night is better.
Voices say you had sex with the Indian.
Voices didn’t say that, voices, one voice, was very clear just now and said “I had sex with the Indian.”
Can’t make heads or tails of that being your voice, or whomever you were with in New York at the time. I know you told me you were there with a friend. I know you told me you made the Indian wait in the lobby for 3 hours and he still had flowers for you, something like that.
I also know we broke up, and I also know that few hours later you were on a bus headed to Boston, and I met you for the second time, in person.
I’m like, shuffling through a lot of emotions right now and while I do get annoyed, I’m not really angry.
For some reason, the voices keep going back to these points in time, as if they’re supposed to hold weight or influence how I currently feel.
If it weren’t for my memory maybe I would hold it against you, but I’m confident in what I know/remember, and I’ll continue to say we were “young dumb and full of cum” you have to give your younger self some grace, especially since the brain reaches adult hood at like 26 or something crazy like that, maybe later I think a new study shows.
So I’m not mad.
But I also don’t want to think about this.
Hence the blog.
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.