This is unf*ing believable. I can’t even believe that this is occurring. Gee, I wonder why I am wary of people. How many offers of goodwill have I made? A million and a 1/2, at least. How many acts of conciliation for things I never did, imagined grievances? Why isn’t anyone willing to admit to the subjectivity of it all, of you all…? That means that it is what you make it, but you can’t make someone something they are not…meaning that this latest revisionist filing has taken it a bit far.

Hallucinations? What? I plainly have said that the only time I have ever had a hallucination* was after having an intramuscular injection of olanzapine (my usual rate of speech and vocal tonality was deemed to seem ‘agitated’ – though it is a little frustrating to find yourself in such unfortunate circumstances as not being able to even speak in your usual voice without someone finding something wrong with you) and then my nighttime dose. That was at the hospital.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a mouth awfully dry and my tongue terribly dyskinetic and thought that I certainly saw someone sitting in a chair that wasn’t there. Perhaps I was dreaming…sometimes the antipsychotics and neuroleptics blur the line between sleep and wakefulness and make it hard to pull yourself out of nightmares.

*and if so, well…um, compassion?

Of course, once you do wake up…well, there is the real nightmare to consider. That is about how the past couple months have felt, like a nightmare that just goes on and on…and sometimes it breaks (usually with art or music or sleeping to dream of some old somewhere)…but, usually it just goes on and on.

I don’t know what the hell is going on with the people in my life…I am really trying hard to not mess up and I don’t understand why things just get more and more lonesome and weird. I wonder if the disorder in my brain is less chemical and more intelligence based. I have a whopping huge spread between my verbal intelligence and my spatial intelligence. I think only 2.6 % of the tested population have a gap that gaping in their ways of understanding.

If I had been born 25 years later, I probably would have been diagnosed with some spectrum disorder…almost certainly, when I consider my childhood likes, dislikes, and distinct aversions to all sorts of sensory stimuli. Alas, I wasn’t.

I just thought I was a fuck up.

One thing for sure, I always know what is real and what is not and I know that a lot of what determines the interior content (interior continent?) of our brief existences, well…it’s up to us.

And so even with this brand new hoop to jump through, well…I will not break. I flat-out refuse to be the person who is described on those pages. You can’t lay those words on me. Anyone who actually meets me or talks to me knows, they won’t stick…

I have already written them as null, months back…

It’s hard to photograph a ‘hallucination’ isn’t it?


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