it's starting again. shit shit they're looking at me. How is it that they know when to look, when it'll make everything crash crash up on top of the mountain when he kept climbing faster and then he must've been laughing (INSIDE) yes must have been laughing somehow at me going slow. Like water dripping out of a faucet. The anticipation makes it slower. oh but those drops soothe, yes, soothe in the end. But anyway, fuck, yes, I wish they would stop looking at me like that. Their eyes wander and stick on me. why on me? why why
They look like cells. Cells under a microscope. Transparent. There's a smallish depression in the center yes sort of like a nucleus isn't it isn't. and they float in front of me and swirl and move like they're propelled by currents in the water. when it's right everything that I see is made up of these cells they're reality particles but sometimes I call them other things other them. overcast days is when I see them best they see me.
oh and then there's the little black dot that follows my eyes. yes yes when I move my eyes around it will move with my eye, up and down. it pulses into different sizes but with auras; auras that are black are that auras?
"My manager had me working in the back all day today. It totally sucked!"
" ... Yeah. Yeah. ... the translation took me five hours. I sent it to the professor at 6:30 this morning ... heh, nevermind ... don't say anything ..."
- Depression & Negative Symptoms
[ .`' ·· . '` . . . . zxzxzxzcxwheredoigonow
i don't know what to dobutiwishthaticould get awayand i'm fucking uglynoonelikesmexzxzzcxzxzcxz ]
... .. ...... when did i move .. 4:41 am .. god the sky and leaves are the same color the same same same .
. - and.. .. 6:02 am .oh . Avogadro's number ..sun sunlight is back . .
Sealed in the vacuous cocoon
The abstract awareness of being
Eye the normals so represented
But never that my world will be
With repetition still nothing changes
Teleological battles for my mind
Eye the visions so constructed
This around which my world dances
You're scared of me now, aren't you?
Exhaustion rages duel with hyperactivity
Nights on end that no rest sees me
Days of constant fear give way to collapse
You'll never know; I hide it from you.
the phrase most often repeated in my head is "and fear ripped through me." oh yes, i forgot to mention all of my thoughts are spoken aloud in my mind. all of them; they don't leave me alone, CHASE CHASE CHASE
there are transparent bubbles and they float around on overcast days. i see them like little cells of life. and they seem to have life, they move around, cycling through and around each other it's more beautiful than anything else. and the edges of trees are brighter and more real. branches are more solid at their ends, don't you so think? and leaves are the same. only bright things on days of cloud and cold.
VISIONS DREAMS VISIONS DREAMS are comfort. my connection to the concrete is gone. i am only an abstraction of an abstraction of an abstraction that continues back and back until it will be blinked from existence, vanishing like ripples on pond water.
i talk to people. real people. people i know in the real world. but when no one is around i have conversations with them and they love me and are nice to me and i am (SMART SMART SMART) perfect but how i can never be sure. perfect perfect perfect. it's hard to know.
i try to fall asleep but it doesn't work. my thoughts never never leave they like to cling like something charged with static. but static also shocks one careless, so i watch it. and "static" can mean "unmoving" too isn't that just perfect? i think so. then i get out of bed and stay awake all night because i need to think think think and pour out these thoughts cause if they stay in sometimes i want to burst but pouring them out is hard cause they are viscous oh very viscous so they stick. hard.
one time i tried to make a map of all of my thoughts and it was horrid and scary i didn't realize how bad it had gotten. stats there was a plane i was looking at the stars but then a plane came by and i realized that even the stars were no longer mine. it had become a man-made sky. (FEAR FEAR FEAR)
if you know me you know that i don't talk much. quiet. quiet times are nice. i don't know what to say to anyone since it never seems to make any sense to them and it seems like they'll think i'm crazy.
crazy. i prolly am. i wish my mind would let me rest.