Author Topic: My Descent Into Psychosis  (Read 1336 times)

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Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #30 on: August 05, 2019, 03:29:03 PM »

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #31 on: August 06, 2019, 07:41:07 AM »
Can you share what country you're in now for treatment?

Indonesia.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #32 on: August 06, 2019, 07:51:26 AM »
I was banned by Bart Ell at EG for complaining too many times about Dave Schrader's show format, so I don't speak for anyone over there.

Well, I share your opinion on Dave. His show format sucks, and I find him terribly boring.

But its odd to me that you say you don't speak for anyone there, and yet you seemed to have bought all of Bart's lies about me!

The question stands. What is the meaning of your post below(?):

Having fun trying to log in, @Smoko, @JUT, @Azzerae, @Nazia?

Who are those other accounts and what makes you think I have anything to do with them?

Bart thought you were allowing Metron2267 aka 26 Horses to use your account to post at EG after M/26 was banned there. Apparently, 26 Horses tried using several ways to keep posting there including using your account. Maybe s/he hacked your account if you didn't give 26 your password?

That's absolute nonsense. Bart's such a piece of dog shit.


Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #33 on: August 06, 2019, 08:07:49 AM »
Sorry, I had no idea you were dealing with the problems you're posting about here now, and you were gone when Metron started hassling me.

"Hassling you" - how?! LOL ... Bro, it's teh intawebz, and a forum as rough and tumble as a dive bar, what the hell did you expect?

Since you created an entire Fan Thread for Metron2267 and seemed very sympathetic to at least some of HW's issues, I thought you were in league w/Metron to help troll people together. You posted in tandem w/Metron quite often.

While Metron was a good pal during his shortlived stint here, and I remain sympathetic to some of Heather's challenges, I certainly don't agree with everything Metron does/believes/thinks, and I made that thread for him largely due to the fact that certain people had become extremely butthurt about Metron engaging anyone on any post anywhere on the forum. So it was just a place I thought would remedy the bellyaching pussies and quiet their gripes about his razor-sharp unmatched wit.

As far as me being a TROLL, and posting "in tandem" with Metron, I guess you could say those of like mind could be categorized as posting "in tandem". But I don't consider myself a TROLL. What you or anyone else believes is up to you, and pretty much not of interest to me in the slightest (its irrelevant).


Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #34 on: August 06, 2019, 08:16:04 AM »
There, historically, has been a different view of free speech between individuals, churches, and commercial and various limitation differences, or not. Over the years the right has been ever expanded for commercial interests. In the US there is something called the Hudson Test based on a Court ruling in 1980 that is used currently and it is very liberal with regard to allowing commercial speech.

I'm all for free speech but, maybe, this should be reviewed?

Absolutely!

Then was another ruling with regard to "disclaimers"- you know the annoying, often fast-paced like an auctioneer, towards the end of, or in small type, during some advertisement for a lawyer, car dealer financing, the latest painkiller, etc?

I'm familiar with those, yes ...

There also is tradition in case law that certain "exaggerations" can be allowed in advertising called "puffery" because "no reasonable person" would believe it.

www.law.edu

www.supremejustia.com


Fascinating read - thank you.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #35 on: August 06, 2019, 08:26:26 AM »
Cool blog psycho.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #36 on: August 06, 2019, 09:35:16 AM »

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #37 on: August 06, 2019, 12:27:41 PM »
Cool blog psycho.
What happened to your porn star avatar?

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #38 on: August 06, 2019, 01:11:12 PM »
Profound. I wish I could discern whether you're being sincere or not.

I am being sincere.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #39 on: August 06, 2019, 01:13:37 PM »
I am being sincere.

Iím just intimidated by you for some reason.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #40 on: August 06, 2019, 01:30:21 PM »
Big titties will do that.

VC

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #41 on: August 06, 2019, 03:01:21 PM »
But its odd to me that you say you don't speak for anyone there, and yet you seemed to have bought all of Bart's lies about me!

The question stands. What is the meaning of your post below(?):

Who are those other accounts and what makes you think I have anything to do with them?

That's absolute nonsense. Bart's such a piece of dog shit.

I just quoted BE directly, so you could simply see what he posted.

I don't know whether or not Metron2267 aka 26 Horses used your account for whatever reason over there. I just wanted you to know what BE alleged that M/26 was doing, and that he implicated that you and/or your account was involved w/M/26. The other mentioned accounts by BE were simply what else M/26 tried to use to post again at EG after being banned there, and my guess is these other Screen-Names would have nothing to do with your one account over there.

It seems you are implying that you did not give M/26 access to your account before you were banned too? Right?

VC

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #42 on: August 06, 2019, 03:19:06 PM »
"Hassling you" - how?! LOL ... Bro, it's teh intawebz, and a forum as rough and tumble as a dive bar, what the hell did you expect?

M/26 was posting to dox me and wanted other BG members to help him do it too. Otherwise, M/26 was a complete asshole throwing fucking toilet paper with his shit-piling onto almost every thread here at over 100 to almost 200 posts per day quite often. Obviously, mentally ill off its meds.

It's strange to me IF you don't find this very disturbing or at least a bit "over the top" quackery about M/26's behavior.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #43 on: August 06, 2019, 07:04:16 PM »
Iím just intimidated by you for some reason.

Itís the accent apparently.

No need to be intimidated by me. Iím not a horrible person, just a bit blunt.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #44 on: August 07, 2019, 02:16:58 AM »
Itís the accent apparently.

Actually, I adore the accent.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #45 on: August 07, 2019, 03:21:57 AM »
WOW. I had a psychotic GF.  SHE WAS GREAT IN BED. I bet you're great in the sack
You would just sit in the corner and cry, Soi Boi.  "Oh Heather!  Oh Heather, what have I done?  I still can't get it up!  Boohoo."

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #46 on: August 07, 2019, 03:39:04 AM »
I just quoted BE directly, so you could simply see what he posted.

I finally understand. Do excuse my initial tone - its just a bit disconcerting to have creeps ogling ones digital footprint - attributing others' actions to their own.

As I'm personally barred from the chintzy knock-off site myself, I genuinely do value your having shared this information with me. Even though I was shaken, (at first).

If you're able to scoop any other accusations he made of me and repost them somewhere on BellGab for me to read, I'd be most appreciative.

I don't know whether or not Metron2267 aka 26 Horses used your account for whatever reason over there. I just wanted you to know what BE alleged that M/26 was doing, and that he implicated that you and/or your account was involved w/M/26. The other mentioned accounts by BE were simply what else M/26 tried to use to post again at EG after being banned there, and my guess is these other Screen-Names would have nothing to do with your one account over there.

Thank you for CCing me on Bart's indictment. After devoting some more thought to the matter, I'll soon devise my very own ways and means of getting personal retribution for the falallacies which he's invented to impugn my "good" name.

It seems you are implying that you did not give M/26 access to your account before you were banned too? Right?

Its what I'm saying directly, I did not give Metron access to my account before the EllGab banning. Right.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #47 on: August 07, 2019, 04:11:24 AM »
M/26 was posting to dox me and wanted other BG members to help him do it too.

Okay, alright ... if I put myself in your shoes, I can see why that would be more than a little alarming an occurrence. Now, I don't recall the situation (either because I wasn't around, or I just can't remember it) for whatever reason; and while I can't add much to the equation (aside from my own thoughts post-haste), what I will say, is as bad as being "doxxed" may be in theory, what's the big booha? Say you're doxxed: then what? You can either respond like 'so what', or you can grow more and more concerned that either Milluh or Scott Adams' retarded younger brother Anthony will track you down and film your domicile. Or no! Worse than that even - you may get a FREE pizza delivered to your door. Just make sure you don't eat it, coz it could be laced with toxicant of some sort. In any case, I'd say being so terrified of a dox, would more likely get you doxed, rather than being left to be.

However, just so I'm clear on this, I don't approve of doxxing. No matter WHO does it. Not Metron, not anyone. But I can't control what anyone else does (and quite frankly, wouldn't want to).

Otherwise, M/26 was a complete asshole throwing fucking toilet paper with his shit-piling onto almost every thread here at over 100 to almost 200 posts per day quite often. Obviously, mentally ill off its meds.

Hehe. You do realize you're being decidedly pejorative about my real, lived experience of being ill mentally myself, right?

If you see Metron as having been an asshole - to you and/or others - I'm quite able to parse your subjective feelings on the man from the fact he and I were cordial for the longest while. In a nutshell, to paraphrase Jackstar: that's just, like, your opinion, man. And you're welcome to it!

Why should I defend my friend to you, start a confrontation, till we're both worked up, sweaty and smothered in a combination of mud and shit in the pig pen that is my thread?

It's strange to me IF you don't find this very disturbing or at least a bit "over the top" quackery about M/26's behavior.

I personally don't find it disturbing. But I'm riddled with my own set of issues - if you're looking for a reason why that is - aside from Metron and I getting along well when he was still around.

I've always been enchanted by "over the top" type things and behaviours of any kind. It amuses me. But maybe part of that is that I'm 'live and let live', really.

It could be said I've "faked outrage" at times, for the sake of compelling discussion. I'm an ideas people.

In any case: let my enemies devour each other. Dali said that.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #48 on: August 07, 2019, 04:23:11 AM »
No need to be intimidated by me. Iím not a horrible person, just a bit blunt.

Your polite sweetness seems genuine enough, but its behind the scenes where you do your damage. Anything said to you lands right in Bart's lap. If we're all conscious of that corruption, we may all be fine.

VC

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #49 on: August 07, 2019, 05:58:25 AM »
Indonesia.

When you were using your previous screen-name here, I thought you were posting about South African politics & that you were from somewhere in Africa too? Why the difference now?

VC

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #50 on: August 07, 2019, 06:15:49 AM »
Hehe. You do realize you're being decidedly pejorative about my real, lived experience of being ill mentally myself, right?

Note, in contrast, I don't refer to you the way I did with M/26, as you're not posting 100+ posts here per day or threatening to dox anyone, etc. etc.

You may or may not be genuine about your mental health issues, this is BG after all, Praise MV/Liberace!, and all that, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt considering it might help you or someone else reading this thread.

I hope I haven't overstepped any boundaries you would consider inappropriate by posting here, and good luck with your situation you've posted about here.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #51 on: August 07, 2019, 06:15:56 AM »
Paranoia III

The Whirlpool of Transparent Masks

I couldn't grasp what was going on with me, and in turn invented new ways to squander my time and sully the chances various people had taken on me. I always felt as if I owed somebody an explanation, as well as an apology. However, I was often tempted to avoid apologizing, as in the past it'd wound me up in unfavourable circumstances - the depths of which, are indescribable. I become hard, unkind and turn ever more inward, till I fall into an abyss, constructed by the demons I've housed in the wrongdoings of my youth. I feel old, I am told I'm in the prime of my life, and cannot imagine a world without my mother, when it has already taken my father. 'One foot in front of the other,' I tell myself, and I sharpen my mechanical pencil. For years and years, I wore my profession as a disguise, only to disregard it in later years. Now when I'm asked, I move on ever so quickly and adopt the 'interested is interesting' approach. I often find myself near tears wondering what my those close to me thinks of my life, and where I have wound up. So low on any material wealth, its crushing. My mother tells me she loves me, says it doesn't matter, oftentimes she comes to my aid. I feel like a fraud, yet act as if I'm elated, skipping over those things that bother me most.

Lovers arrive in my life, and leave. There are seasons I'm taken up in the romance of it all, and believe so strongly this is the reason we're here. But, is it lust? Perhaps. Love is so impeding, and a cancer that spreads so quickly, or rather a fire that burns everything it was at first down to a crisp. I am uncertain as to where next things take me, but enter a new phase accompanied only by the same apathy I experienced in cycles before. I've arrived at the notion that these cycles are uncontrollable and expose the existence of a type of fate. I burn, and rise flying upward out of the chimney of despair, only to be met with the cold night air of the depressive I so comfortably have inhabited for so long. Suddenly, a glimmer of hope comes back and I can feel the weight of years of downness lift, and everything is jovial. I announce it within myself, and its so intense I fail to remember it'll be fleeting. I drag my eyelids closed, as I'm met with another nights rest, and consider it a piece of heaven. Why, when unconscious, out, asleep, in bed, and off, would I feel better than in waking hours? Because nothing is expected of me perhaps. I begin to strip away all of the ways, as best I can, that those I need, could possibly have expectations Ė while simultaneously cushioning as best as possible any of the ways this will cut off my nose to spite my face. Peculiarly enough, little changes, and life grants me leeway. This makes me happy, and I begin to live a less anxious existence. There is now plenty of time freed up for me, with which I can commit to things of interest, and so I explore new channels of self expression.

But no one comes. I'm alone, isolated by the hell of my own making, with nothing but my own tools left to build a noose. I refuse, and continue to make my hell, and make it a beautiful hell. This hell shrinks, and as it does, I grow larger, feasting on all those things I indulge in without limit. God calls, but I stuff my ears closed with two globs of lard, accrued by sloth. A hand is outstretched and pulls at me, but I'm blinded by the narrow tunnels of delusion, shrunken and pitch dark around my eyes. Everybody I've ever know surrounds the cage I've been in, and calls to me, but, blind and deaf, I only hear myself. Soon, everybody that has gathered and tried to unlock this cage has gone, and night creeps in. I'm left, and don't even know it, I'm alone, not by my own making, but rightfully deserted, and if I were to weep, nobody would hear me do so. Slowly, the surface beneath the cage begins to wither, and so I fall ever deeper into another place, the splash, I do not feel, as I am covered in the wet suit of impervious ignorance, I'm drowning, and only realize so, as I gasp for air and only swallow water. But people come to my aid, and pull at the cage, and carry it to another place, dryer. They saw me out of the bars, but these people do not resemble, at all, those I held dear in life, no. They have uncovered my eyes, and they frighten me. My eyes, cataracts, see only blurs Ė so spare me what I would see if I knew who these people were. These people put me under, and surgically remove the cataracts. Blindfolded, I recuperate, in a sort of medical facility, till I regain my sight. What I am met with upon regaining vision scares me more than anything I have ever seen. These people, they are not people. They are hideous, and they can hear me think it! They scatter as I shriek. Drawing near once again, I catch my breath and inquire as to what it is that is taking place. Am I dead? The faces peer in to my very being. I am scared, and they know it. But they have saved me, and although I had abandoned every last one of the loved ones I once knew, I am now in the place that I am because of it. They do wear clothes, but not any I have seen before. I question my safety, and start for a door. But I cannot go back. Of this I'm assured, and I cry out. I fight, and I'm frogmarched to another place. I ask them to tell me this isn't true, but nobody will give me the answers I want. I look again upon one of their faces, and I feel a tinge crawl across mine. "I'm in a dream, a horrid dream!" I shout. Their faces transmogrify, from terrifying to jovial, yet these once good Samaritans start to mock me, and approach like a pack of wolves.

Time has passed, but I'm unaware of this. Then all of a sudden, I'm wrapped in what feels like a blanket, being swayed gently by what feels like a pair of giant, warm hands. I feel at peace, and I hear a voice. I'm told that there was always somebody with me, through all the times I felt that there wasn't. My eyes are closed, and I drift asleep. I awake again later surrounded by white. I look around, see no feet, no hands or arms, but I possess vision. I see my mother, at a birds eye view, looking at a picture. In the picture is me, as a baby. She is glowing. I see my one of my siblings, I can see what they are thinking, and emanating off of them is love. Another family member is surrounded by thoughts, some of which are of me, and as I feel these things I feel myself grow brighter. I move, and although there is a sense of movement to me, the three scenes have vanished, and I'm only surrounded by white. I glide and glide in all four directions, North, East, South, finally West, and come across a place I've never been. Its not like anywhere I've seen. I come to the realization that in my life I've never traveled, lived and died where I was raised, aside from moving from the more quiet beach side to the city, and of course to my grandmothers province. I explore this place, and its got all of the things one would assume a place would have, but I can't decipher where exactly it is. I arrive at the conclusion that human beings could not possibly know all of the world, and this must be somewhere I just hadn't known, and our limited understanding of things couldn't describe it sufficiently. This information comes to me, not of my own mind, but it is a knowing that is melded with my consciousness. Where are the people of this place? I question how I got to where I am, chalking it up to my having died, but something else urges me that this is not the case. Had my own solipsism not taken hold, I wondered, would I not be at the place I once was, and wouldn't that be better? I was taken aback that such questions were still with me, when I had incoming answers, from another source, aiding my curiosities. I thought back to small pleasures like coffee, a sunrise, and the physical rest. I just didn't know what to think or say, so I allowed my mind to clear as fully as it possibly could, and just then, my whole being began getting sucked into an ever increasing hole. Surely it couldn't be the solipsism I'd erected like a concrete wall before, returning to enslave me yet again? No.

All throughout being pursued by a pack of strange individuals, I'd been able to stay put, not die of fright. I was beginning to question the existence of death, and see more of what I'd known life to be as a death of sorts. Not being able to put ones finger on something certainly can lead to a lot of open questions. I couldn't gather my papers, and fulfill my tasks any longer. I couldn't carefully craft excuses, and here all of my failings were in full view for all. But all, I was not familiar with. Was there anything else behind what was behind all of what I had lived before? How many more curtains could possibly be drawn before I arrived at the real face, the one behind the duplicitous masks? And so, I set out on a new journey - a journey to uncover the masks of these inexplicably horrendous faces I could not shake from my minds eye. Down a muddy street, above a lorry. Skyward, on the wings of an eagle as it soared. Drip-drip-dripping out a leaky tap. But no masks, none. None in any of these confounded scenes. I wouldn't give up, however, as I glanced into the murky water of a pond. The only others there beneath the surface, slithering against others of their ilk. A slimy eel then emerged, only to widen its eyes at me and lick its lips. I was taken aback, but she consoled me with the idea that she was only keeping her chops moist, as any creatures are wont to do.

"What do you I look like, a cheshire cat?,"  she hissed suddenly, stunning me.

"This is not Wonderland, and I indeed am not Alice." I said in retort.

The eel blinked her eyes, and queried what it is I sought. I filled her in on my predicament, what with the unmasking of the awful and horrid looking creatures I'd seen. She'd gone down a laundry list of possibilities, none of which held my attention very long, though before long, I bade her farewell. Upon returning to the murky depths of her pond she probably had a gay old time at my expense, relaying what a fool I appeared to be Ė seeking invisible faces of untold men from a place so far off any number the most educated  of folk could barely begin to imagine. Well, I kicked a pebble, and so it rolled down a hill, gaining traction till in fell into the side of a protruding root. I shrugged, folded my arms and sat on the ground, picking at some long strands of grass. Then I emptied my mind somewhat, and soon found myself lost again, above my body, and gliding through the clouds.

Later, I awoke with a tremble. I had drifted off and had a snooze. I was parched, and beginning to feel somewhat peckish. But who was to say where I could get a bite to eat? I was so lost, having traveled all this way from everything I knew, seeking opaque ends. Shattering my dream, I gave in to the lowly needs of a hungry girl and strolled down the mountain and into the first market I could lay my eyes on. The first thing my lips met with were a tap, and I drank from it furiously, till I belched. Then I saw a man selling food of some sort, and stumbled over, excusing the lady and man I brushed up against in pursuit of a meal.

"Pushy little bitch", remarked the woman, and I looked back sheepishly, half forcing a smile.

"Shove my bloody wife, will you?!" yelled the husband, and I turned round, ran off and rolled my eyes.

Soon I gave up on a bite in such harsh conditions, and proceeded to a railway track in order to speedily escape the portly, aggressive man that threatened he'd have my head. I put my hands on my hips and leant down, staring at a few faded words on one of the tracks Ė presumably some company name or some such. I felt nauseous, and it was blistering hot in this place. I looked around again and saw only trees, rocks, grass-like shrubs, and that contentious market in the distance. The train track began to rumble, and I tripped and fell, slicing my shin open. My shoelace had untied, and was stuck in the track!

"God help me," I whimpered, with my eyes closed.

In an instant, I found myself in the shade, with the train roaring by. If I were where I was just seconds ago I surely would've died! I looked to my left and saw a blur out of my peripheral vision. An odd face, blue, and maniacal taunted my minds eye. I shouted in fear, and scooted back, knocking the back of my head against the tree truck, biting the tip of my tongue and drawing blood. I cursed Ė twice! Three times, then four. I was now watching the train I'd intended to grab onto disappear into the distance, but fortunately had retained my life. How curious life is, I thought. A mutilated shin and a mouth filled with blood, a bump on the head and an empty stomach. Just a lovely time I was having. Ashamed, I quickly thanked out loud whomever it was that saved me from death by train! A mechanical voice crinkled across my psyche like the the sound of fingers crumpling tin foil. I blurted an expletive and covered my mouth in shame. Something inside me ushered a few thoughts into a particular direction Ė that being the masks. I shook my head in disbelief and sprang to my feet, looking everywhere for one of those peculiar faces that circled me before. How odd this whole situation had turned out, I whispered to myself. I needed something to chew on, and sure as can be, a plan unfolded explicitly in my mind. All I was to do was follow it!

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #52 on: August 07, 2019, 06:17:28 AM »
When you were using your previous screen-name here, I thought you were posting about South African politics & that you were from somewhere in Africa too? Why the difference now?

No deep reason, I moved.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #53 on: August 07, 2019, 06:19:56 AM »
Note, in contrast, I don't refer to you the way I did with M/26, as you're not posting 100+ posts here per day or threatening to dox anyone, etc. etc.

You may or may not be genuine about your mental health issues, this is BG after all, Praise MV/Liberace!, and all that, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt considering it might help you or someone else reading this thread.

I hope I haven't overstepped any boundaries you would consider inappropriate by posting here, and good luck with your situation you've posted about here.

Well, yes, we're all equally entitled to our opinions: PRAISE LIBERACE!

Its BellGab, yeah, I take things with a pinch of salt, and I'm not a snowflake either, so don't worry.

Happy reading ...

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #54 on: August 07, 2019, 06:43:09 AM »
Your polite sweetness seems genuine enough, but its behind the scenes where you do your damage. Anything said to you lands right in Bart's lap. If we're all conscious of that corruption, we may all be fine.

Bart barely talks to me, and I certainly donít think I am anywhere near any part of his circle of trust (if such a thing exists).

Actually really only reading over there at this point because I am not especially enjoying it at the moment.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #55 on: August 07, 2019, 08:13:42 AM »
Bart barely talks to me, and I certainly donít think I am anywhere near any part of his circle of trust (if such a thing exists).

Well, I did think the motherfucker was a tad bit outta line when he told you to "SUCK SHIT", completely out the blue that time. Dude's got problems.

Actually really only reading over there at this point because I am not especially enjoying it at the moment.

Oh, is that so! What's it that you don't like, that's going on there at the moment? Is it just boring, or has it got sicker than when I was last around??


Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #56 on: August 07, 2019, 12:43:44 PM »
What happened to your porn star avatar?

Iíll change it back soon

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #57 on: August 07, 2019, 12:45:17 PM »
Paranoia III

The Whirlpool of Transparent Masks

I couldn't grasp what was going on with me, and in turn invented new ways to squander my time and sully the chances various people had taken on me. I always felt as if I owed somebody an explanation, as well as an apology. However, I was often tempted to avoid apologizing, as in the past it'd wound me up in unfavourable circumstances - the depths of which, are indescribable. I become hard, unkind and turn ever more inward, till I fall into an abyss, constructed by the demons I've housed in the wrongdoings of my youth. I feel old, I am told I'm in the prime of my life, and cannot imagine a world without my mother, when it has already taken my father. 'One foot in front of the other,' I tell myself, and I sharpen my mechanical pencil. For years and years, I wore my profession as a disguise, only to disregard it in later years. Now when I'm asked, I move on ever so quickly and adopt the 'interested is interesting' approach. I often find myself near tears wondering what my those close to me thinks of my life, and where I have wound up. So low on any material wealth, its crushing. My mother tells me she loves me, says it doesn't matter, oftentimes she comes to my aid. I feel like a fraud, yet act as if I'm elated, skipping over those things that bother me most.

Lovers arrive in my life, and leave. There are seasons I'm taken up in the romance of it all, and believe so strongly this is the reason we're here. But, is it lust? Perhaps. Love is so impeding, and a cancer that spreads so quickly, or rather a fire that burns everything it was at first down to a crisp. I am uncertain as to where next things take me, but enter a new phase accompanied only by the same apathy I experienced in cycles before. I've arrived at the notion that these cycles are uncontrollable and expose the existence of a type of fate. I burn, and rise flying upward out of the chimney of despair, only to be met with the cold night air of the depressive I so comfortably have inhabited for so long. Suddenly, a glimmer of hope comes back and I can feel the weight of years of downness lift, and everything is jovial. I announce it within myself, and its so intense I fail to remember it'll be fleeting. I drag my eyelids closed, as I'm met with another nights rest, and consider it a piece of heaven. Why, when unconscious, out, asleep, in bed, and off, would I feel better than in waking hours? Because nothing is expected of me perhaps. I begin to strip away all of the ways, as best I can, that those I need, could possibly have expectations Ė while simultaneously cushioning as best as possible any of the ways this will cut off my nose to spite my face. Peculiarly enough, little changes, and life grants me leeway. This makes me happy, and I begin to live a less anxious existence. There is now plenty of time freed up for me, with which I can commit to things of interest, and so I explore new channels of self expression.

But no one comes. I'm alone, isolated by the hell of my own making, with nothing but my own tools left to build a noose. I refuse, and continue to make my hell, and make it a beautiful hell. This hell shrinks, and as it does, I grow larger, feasting on all those things I indulge in without limit. God calls, but I stuff my ears closed with two globs of lard, accrued by sloth. A hand is outstretched and pulls at me, but I'm blinded by the narrow tunnels of delusion, shrunken and pitch dark around my eyes. Everybody I've ever know surrounds the cage I've been in, and calls to me, but, blind and deaf, I only hear myself. Soon, everybody that has gathered and tried to unlock this cage has gone, and night creeps in. I'm left, and don't even know it, I'm alone, not by my own making, but rightfully deserted, and if I were to weep, nobody would hear me do so. Slowly, the surface beneath the cage begins to wither, and so I fall ever deeper into another place, the splash, I do not feel, as I am covered in the wet suit of impervious ignorance, I'm drowning, and only realize so, as I gasp for air and only swallow water. But people come to my aid, and pull at the cage, and carry it to another place, dryer. They saw me out of the bars, but these people do not resemble, at all, those I held dear in life, no. They have uncovered my eyes, and they frighten me. My eyes, cataracts, see only blurs Ė so spare me what I would see if I knew who these people were. These people put me under, and surgically remove the cataracts. Blindfolded, I recuperate, in a sort of medical facility, till I regain my sight. What I am met with upon regaining vision scares me more than anything I have ever seen. These people, they are not people. They are hideous, and they can hear me think it! They scatter as I shriek. Drawing near once again, I catch my breath and inquire as to what it is that is taking place. Am I dead? The faces peer in to my very being. I am scared, and they know it. But they have saved me, and although I had abandoned every last one of the loved ones I once knew, I am now in the place that I am because of it. They do wear clothes, but not any I have seen before. I question my safety, and start for a door. But I cannot go back. Of this I'm assured, and I cry out. I fight, and I'm frogmarched to another place. I ask them to tell me this isn't true, but nobody will give me the answers I want. I look again upon one of their faces, and I feel a tinge crawl across mine. "I'm in a dream, a horrid dream!" I shout. Their faces transmogrify, from terrifying to jovial, yet these once good Samaritans start to mock me, and approach like a pack of wolves.

Time has passed, but I'm unaware of this. Then all of a sudden, I'm wrapped in what feels like a blanket, being swayed gently by what feels like a pair of giant, warm hands. I feel at peace, and I hear a voice. I'm told that there was always somebody with me, through all the times I felt that there wasn't. My eyes are closed, and I drift asleep. I awake again later surrounded by white. I look around, see no feet, no hands or arms, but I possess vision. I see my mother, at a birds eye view, looking at a picture. In the picture is me, as a baby. She is glowing. I see my one of my siblings, I can see what they are thinking, and emanating off of them is love. Another family member is surrounded by thoughts, some of which are of me, and as I feel these things I feel myself grow brighter. I move, and although there is a sense of movement to me, the three scenes have vanished, and I'm only surrounded by white. I glide and glide in all four directions, North, East, South, finally West, and come across a place I've never been. Its not like anywhere I've seen. I come to the realization that in my life I've never traveled, lived and died where I was raised, aside from moving from the more quiet beach side to the city, and of course to my grandmothers province. I explore this place, and its got all of the things one would assume a place would have, but I can't decipher where exactly it is. I arrive at the conclusion that human beings could not possibly know all of the world, and this must be somewhere I just hadn't known, and our limited understanding of things couldn't describe it sufficiently. This information comes to me, not of my own mind, but it is a knowing that is melded with my consciousness. Where are the people of this place? I question how I got to where I am, chalking it up to my having died, but something else urges me that this is not the case. Had my own solipsism not taken hold, I wondered, would I not be at the place I once was, and wouldn't that be better? I was taken aback that such questions were still with me, when I had incoming answers, from another source, aiding my curiosities. I thought back to small pleasures like coffee, a sunrise, and the physical rest. I just didn't know what to think or say, so I allowed my mind to clear as fully as it possibly could, and just then, my whole being began getting sucked into an ever increasing hole. Surely it couldn't be the solipsism I'd erected like a concrete wall before, returning to enslave me yet again? No.

All throughout being pursued by a pack of strange individuals, I'd been able to stay put, not die of fright. I was beginning to question the existence of death, and see more of what I'd known life to be as a death of sorts. Not being able to put ones finger on something certainly can lead to a lot of open questions. I couldn't gather my papers, and fulfill my tasks any longer. I couldn't carefully craft excuses, and here all of my failings were in full view for all. But all, I was not familiar with. Was there anything else behind what was behind all of what I had lived before? How many more curtains could possibly be drawn before I arrived at the real face, the one behind the duplicitous masks? And so, I set out on a new journey - a journey to uncover the masks of these inexplicably horrendous faces I could not shake from my minds eye. Down a muddy street, above a lorry. Skyward, on the wings of an eagle as it soared. Drip-drip-dripping out a leaky tap. But no masks, none. None in any of these confounded scenes. I wouldn't give up, however, as I glanced into the murky water of a pond. The only others there beneath the surface, slithering against others of their ilk. A slimy eel then emerged, only to widen its eyes at me and lick its lips. I was taken aback, but she consoled me with the idea that she was only keeping her chops moist, as any creatures are wont to do.

"What do you I look like, a cheshire cat?,"  she hissed suddenly, stunning me.

"This is not Wonderland, and I indeed am not Alice." I said in retort.

The eel blinked her eyes, and queried what it is I sought. I filled her in on my predicament, what with the unmasking of the awful and horrid looking creatures I'd seen. She'd gone down a laundry list of possibilities, none of which held my attention very long, though before long, I bade her farewell. Upon returning to the murky depths of her pond she probably had a gay old time at my expense, relaying what a fool I appeared to be Ė seeking invisible faces of untold men from a place so far off any number the most educated  of folk could barely begin to imagine. Well, I kicked a pebble, and so it rolled down a hill, gaining traction till in fell into the side of a protruding root. I shrugged, folded my arms and sat on the ground, picking at some long strands of grass. Then I emptied my mind somewhat, and soon found myself lost again, above my body, and gliding through the clouds.

Later, I awoke with a tremble. I had drifted off and had a snooze. I was parched, and beginning to feel somewhat peckish. But who was to say where I could get a bite to eat? I was so lost, having traveled all this way from everything I knew, seeking opaque ends. Shattering my dream, I gave in to the lowly needs of a hungry girl and strolled down the mountain and into the first market I could lay my eyes on. The first thing my lips met with were a tap, and I drank from it furiously, till I belched. Then I saw a man selling food of some sort, and stumbled over, excusing the lady and man I brushed up against in pursuit of a meal.

"Pushy little bitch", remarked the woman, and I looked back sheepishly, half forcing a smile.

"Shove my bloody wife, will you?!" yelled the husband, and I turned round, ran off and rolled my eyes.

Soon I gave up on a bite in such harsh conditions, and proceeded to a railway track in order to speedily escape the portly, aggressive man that threatened he'd have my head. I put my hands on my hips and leant down, staring at a few faded words on one of the tracks Ė presumably some company name or some such. I felt nauseous, and it was blistering hot in this place. I looked around again and saw only trees, rocks, grass-like shrubs, and that contentious market in the distance. The train track began to rumble, and I tripped and fell, slicing my shin open. My shoelace had untied, and was stuck in the track!

"God help me," I whimpered, with my eyes closed.

In an instant, I found myself in the shade, with the train roaring by. If I were where I was just seconds ago I surely would've died! I looked to my left and saw a blur out of my peripheral vision. An odd face, blue, and maniacal taunted my minds eye. I shouted in fear, and scooted back, knocking the back of my head against the tree truck, biting the tip of my tongue and drawing blood. I cursed Ė twice! Three times, then four. I was now watching the train I'd intended to grab onto disappear into the distance, but fortunately had retained my life. How curious life is, I thought. A mutilated shin and a mouth filled with blood, a bump on the head and an empty stomach. Just a lovely time I was having. Ashamed, I quickly thanked out loud whomever it was that saved me from death by train! A mechanical voice crinkled across my psyche like the the sound of fingers crumpling tin foil. I blurted an expletive and covered my mouth in shame. Something inside me ushered a few thoughts into a particular direction Ė that being the masks. I shook my head in disbelief and sprang to my feet, looking everywhere for one of those peculiar faces that circled me before. How odd this whole situation had turned out, I whispered to myself. I needed something to chew on, and sure as can be, a plan unfolded explicitly in my mind. All I was to do was follow it!



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Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #58 on: August 07, 2019, 12:45:55 PM »
Iíll change it back soon

It was gross. Please donít.

Re: My Descent Into Psychosis
« Reply #59 on: August 07, 2019, 12:57:23 PM »
It was gross. Please donít.

and Bill Clinton isnít?




Too late.  Changing it to something.....


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