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.
This one is for the voices that just said,
“Give it up for Danny Fairclough because he can actually remember.”
I had/did a GENERATIONAL Crash out on this poor young woman.
This crash out I had was something you’d feel shame for, for the rest of your life.
Voices are telling me this guy you went “on a date with” from the Hostel in Boston, the guy that bought you chicken, the guy that you “spit on his plate” for or whatever, he got a blowjob from you.
Let’s revisit the facts:
Before arriving in Boston you broke up with me in New york
Some of the individuals at the hostel would coerce you into sexual activity by holding your belongings hostage
if I feel anything it’s because I wish I could have done something to prevent these outrageous accusations
I can’t change the past
Now that we’ve established all of those rules… I don’t “feel” like I want to say “so what” but the only option I have is “so what”
The tightness in my chest doesnt matter.
my heart beating in my throat doesnt matter.
this headache coming on because I’m filled with a rage and no appropriate outlet, doesnt matter.
Nothing matters.
Nothing matters…
The voices in my head have recently begun saying that my medication is a placebo.
I feel like I could believe them, because they’re still in my head.
Voices keep telling me (right now) about the girl I visited in London. One of them women I was most recently “in love with” at the time of sending that email.
She doesn’t want anything to do with me either, or at least she doesn’t respond anymore when I reach out to her.
All this to say this is what the voices are talking about right now.
And that some of that talk of sexual violence is on her side of the line.
I’m not gonna try to verify that, I’m just gonna try to get some sleep.
If we’re so over, why do I hear so much about you?
I know I’m losing my mind right now because even when I close my eyes I still see things, people, characters, intercourse.
I’m gonna look up if anyone else had documented or talked about the subject of their hallucinations, if at any point and time there was someone semi/quasi/or just famous with a head screwed on wrong that had hallucinations about lost love(s)
Voices said you wouldn’t have had a kid if you had known that whatever I said, I meant it.
How could you have known?
We were so young.
You already had a world view that would’ve been hard to shake away with words alone.
And so did I.
As for my own, it’s shattered now, as I constantly unlearn, and relearn, all these things happening at once and all at a “historic moment in time.”
Such is life.
I’ve done the damage I can’t undo.
Don’t need to do any more.
Don’t want to either.
Voices say you were always supposed to be with ABWJr, and you don’t give a shit about me at all or what I have to say.
Welp, I’d consider that obvious, given what I know and considering what the voices tell me.
I just wish they’d stop telling me.
The voices repeat themselves but not as rapidly.
They bring me back to the past and try to measure how I feel about it, how I respond to my memories in the present.
It’s a cycle of pain.
Remembering, loving, quieting or killing my emotions-
Over and over and over and over and over and over again and again and again and again and again.
Did I mention the manga “Soul Eater” by Atsushi Ohkubo?
In that manga, the final “power up” the main characters get is accepting “insanity.”
That’s how I feel right now.
I’ve accepted that I’m probably going to be or going to be seen as “crazy” for the rest of my life, but I think I’ll be fine as long as I don’t try to hurt anyone.
As long as I don’t try to find or talk to you.
As long as I don’t go and try to get “revenge” against every voice in my head that I recognize.
I think that’s the path I need to be on, or at least it’s the one I’ve followed until now and it’s kept me out of trouble.
I have a job.
I have responsibilities.
The world won’t wait for me just because I ain’t got my head screwed on tight enough.
Nope!
Time stops for no one.
Voices in my head swing wildly back and forth between telling me I’m going to get what I want (a relationship with you) and that you’ll never see me again ever for the rest of our lives.
Frankly, I can’t buy into either of these camps.
Something is bound to happen, even if that something is just me, typing out the nonsense in my mind, into the void.
It sounds as if there are so many moving parts, so many people that are “in on it” that I’m personally not aware of on your end.
There’s always “someone else” that does this heinous thing being beamed into my brain, some other star crossed lover wrapped into the confusion of impersonation and personal perception.
Like I said before this, a long time ago now me thinks: I type so I don’t dwell on these thoughts and hearings longer than is necessary.
I’m hoping things work out in the end but I have no idea what thing it is that needs to be worked out.
Adios amiga.
https://1001albumsgenerator.com
A voice in my head was screaming that they loved me as I listened to this music I’ve never heard before.
They also said “I ate semen every day since I was 8”
This is clearly someone’s story of sexual abuse, and the voices, other voices not this one, say it’s the voice of O.Wall.
I remember that time in New York, in the park, that something happened to her. That she was gang raped by her brother and his associates.
I felt and thought those things but I have no way to prove it. And you with that action of the “noose” like you’d hang yourself, and you told me it was nothing.
She only loves me because I’m the opposite of the Daniel Fairclough she’s face to face with (ABWJr)
But honestly I still don’t understand why I was dragged into any of this to begin with…
As per my last post, if you were that fast and loose, I got my portion of you, and now you’re off somewhere else in the wild.
I think all my life I wanted to live in a community where I would “fuck for fun” and in all honesty I probably would’ve had a kid early if those were the cards life dealt me, but that didn’t happen.
I’m not ashamed of my sexuality, or of sex and the things that come with it. I’m fairly open, there are somethings I won’t do and the rest is fair game.
My issue is these voices.
If they were gone and you were/are as fast and loose as they describe you to be, you should know I’d just be trying to keep up.
That was basically my life before these voices stopped me in my tracks.
It’s somewhere I hope I can get back to as long as I loose weight, but for what its worth it seems like nothing is predetermined.
There is no hand of fate deciding my life, and if the voices give any clue to that divine intervention I have yet to see the proof of it.
Save the dopplegangers that don’t speak to me.
Ah.
Voices in my head keep chattering about you and your intercourse with people at the hostel.
Which one, I don’t know.
How often, they say a guy every night.
But also, if they stole or were holding y our only means of communication hostage, thats coercion, and not necessarily consent.
That’s literally rape.
And even if you were just that promiscuous, you know I don’t mind.
P.S.
And then you throw in the “Viking Concept of Revenge” and here you are, in my head, in some courtroom talking about the damages done to one another with this radio technology or something.
I mean it absolutely makes sense to get revenge for shame or honor.
Maybe in the moment of the coercion you felt shame.
I don’t understand why the voices have to tell me these things when they involve everyone else?
This is like an older woman’s secrets: this is the stories from an adult woman’s younger years that she doesn’t tell anyone because it might make them think differently of her.
This is rampage in my mind and the only thing that is preventing me from being even more emotional is fucking nihilism.
She fucked me.
She fucked someone else.
She won’t fuck me.
She’s the town bike somewhere else.
Goodness gracious.
Good riddance.
Voices said as I took a dump scrolling on Instagram that “[your name] was nothing like you she was like ABWJr” and they said it quickly and I couldnt tell if they said “that is the opposite”
I know I’ve been rapid firing these post in the last few minutes but I guess it’s a bad time for me and the voices right now as I get ready for bed.
Voices keep saying or talking about someone else you fucked at one hostel or another.
That ABWJr wants to know about these men.
I don’t, but I keep hearing this shit.
I know there’s nothing I can do about it now, I’m not gonna to delude myself anymore than I already am.
You were there (or at least I informed you) of the terrible pain and the maddening moment when I had that realization.
Time machines aren’t real and even if they were, everything from back then was so, so different.
Is it a crime to want this increased dose of medication to work faster?
A toast to you!
I drink now.
Voices in my head just said that I’m “may own version of you” insert your name where you see it fit.
What the fuck does that mean?
All day they were going on about how much you love me and that I’m special and coming down the the last few minutes of my work day they pull this plot twist.
I can go on loving myself well enough but I KNOW I’m not you, especially if you’re the person in my hallucinations that willingly defects in public whenever someone brings up how you feel about me so you can say with confidence that I’m ‘the shit.”
THAT HAS BEEN ROLLING AROUND MY NOGGIN FOR SO LONG AND I DID NOT HAVE THE WORDS FOR IT UNTIL NOW.
My mind is a hot gross mess of abuse and violence and I KNOW I don’t think of these things regularly I KNOW who the fuck I am so WHERE THE FUCK DOES THE COME FROM AND WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH YOU!?
FUCK.
