My Brain and Writing

So, I haven’t been on here much.  Lately, my medication has been doing me a disfavor.  I hope my doctor listens and decreases the amount of fluphenazine I’m on. That’s the shot. Of course, I’ll upset my grandma, but I can’t feel anything.

Something has to give.

I’m limited.  Plus, in the hospital, they took me down to 37 or whatever.  I’m on 50 now.

Also, I’ve been trying to write with little success.  I did receive a spark of inspiration from a Yahoo news article on sleep paralysis, however.  I used to suffer from it quite frequently prior to being put on medications for schizophrenia.

I haven’t thought about those hypnagogic hallucinations for a while: material.

I can honestly say I don’t miss it, don’t want it to happen again, the waking Hell.  My life used to revolve around my dreams and spirit guides.  I had to follow so many rules in the dream world, like having to run to a closet if the dead things came after me, and the boogeyman, known as the “hanged man,” would grab me and wake me up or take me to another dream.

I don’t believe in the supernatural anymore.

I’ve had enough therapy to realize dreams are dreams and my old paracosm wasn’t real either.

Someone must have told me about the “hanged man,” the man who committed suicide at the Rolla house.  Rolla is an average sized town in Missouri where my grandparents have a creepy house, and someone committed suicide on a tree in the backyard, which made it worse.

Damn basement.

There are so many facets to my dream world, and rules.  I’ll try to compose stories from there.  I’m at a safe distance with my medication.  I used to stay up for days and scream.

 

 

First Off, I Hate Them All

They’re clinging, nasty creatures. They feed on us, the ones who’ve suffered and use us to continue spewing their vile trash. So if you don’t understand, I hate mental health fakers. They’re all over the money, and they destroy my chances of getting well by dragging me down their holes. It’s why I don’t usually associate with them, but I have to now to escape. I have to listen to their fake stories and listen to them muster pity for one another. By their own confessions they’re fake. You don’t hear “Rock & Roll” while you’re hearing voices. You don’t do any of that nonsense. There are some real ones, but not many. Most of them don’t even know that you hear things in your head, not outside. We need to educate people on what hearing voices really is, get rid of the mystery. I heard them for years without realizing it due to all the fake crap out there. I’m not hearing them now.

I hate the life I made.

Humans

Have a depth about them that I must study.  They think they know just because they feel something is a certain way.  It is a curious sensation that the lobotomized do not understand.  I finally found someone else on YouTube who had a lobotomy done to him.  It was a connection I found comforting.

How is everyone else doing?

What Are They Thinking?

Have you ever driven and passed someone only to say, “Why are they turning?”

Do you ever wonder if they’re thinking, “Why are they turning?”

We live in egocentric worlds where we think we’re the only ones.  These worlds are comprised of “me, me and me,” instead of the group mentality of “us.” 

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately and what other people are thinking, what they believe.  So far, I know I’m in the dark about a lot of things, but I feel like I’m coming to terms with the whole “us” concept.  I’m expanding my horizons and letting others into my sphere. 

Hopefully, the end result is that I become more rounded and not just turned into a crash of worlds. 

What do you think?