I didn’t know where else I could post this so someone could read it and help me understand what was happening to me.
I feel as though I’m finally losing it. Like REALLY losing it. It could be due to the new medication my psychiatrist has put me on. It’s called Effexor, I think? No, that was the other one. Doesn’t matter. I’m no longer going to take that or the Depakote or the sleeping pills Sonata? or even a fucking vitamin. I’m done with it, all of it. I refuse to put up with this any longer. I’m beginning to lose the rest of my mind, and it seems as though someone else in my head is gaslighting me into submission.
Have you ever seen a shadow darker than the surrounding shadows, like it doesn’t belong there? I feel like the darker shadow..
Imagine your subconscious, the most Meta part of our autonomic nervous system, which, funnily enough, is supposed to control homeostasis, a “state of balance” in the body. HA! Imagine your own body freaking fighting you, your own mind tricking you. Becoming this grotesque creature, this manifestation of fears with twisted, familiar faces guilt, self loathingingingingini guilt self loath guilt self loath guilt self loat guilt self loa guilt self lo guilt self lo guilt self, lo guilt self, lo guilt self, l guilt self, guilt self, guilt self guilt self guilt self guilt sel guilt se guilt s guilt guilt.
See!! Did you read it too?? Right there, I didn’t write that! I’m keeping it in this so you can see when it happens, too; it can be a record because it’s not just when I’m sleeping,
not anymore.
Before, just as I was falling asleep, It was like the feeling when your body and mind shift into that phase, and your mind gets more and more …Cloudy? That may not be the correct word I want to use… As the outside, you and the inside, you swap controllers. The conscious version of yourself swaps to player two, and your shadow self is unshackled and starts to take command. At the same time, your physical body begins to release a chemical to keep you paralyzed. I’m sorry; I am not a writer by any means. I am terrible at this; I am the most uncreative person;
just ask my friends.
I couldn’t make this up, so I’m trying to describe my thoughts as best as possible. If my wording or phrasing is not being understood, please know that I am trying my best to explain myself while I still can. I haven’t even gotten to what I am trying to convey to you yet.
Let me try again.
The inner me, the subconscious version of the image I see myself as, is trying to guide me to a malformed sudo, alternate, otherworldly memory or idea every time I sleep, and I mean every time… I can’t even call it a dream anymore because. It.. It feels like a memory, and it continues each night, no matter what.
I’m MACABRE theater every time I sleep, and I mean every time; I can’t even call it a dream anymore because it feels like a forgotten memory… And, AND it continues each night,
no,
each TIME I sleep.
Regardless of whether I get one hour or 18 hours of sleep,
I’m trapped in his embrace,
this macabre theater every time I sleep. every time,
it’s not a dream.
Out there somewhere, someone is living these horrible manifestations of disembodiment and psychological anguish, and all I can do is watch.
I’m in the theater, stuck, shackled. It’s not just when I’m sleeping anymore. I’m doing little of that anyway.
Living a lifetime in another person’s shattered, distorted memories is like a suffocating fog that is now bleeding into the waking world, and it’s affecting me more and more. Trapping me in a twisted dance with my own demons. I’m stuck, and just now, as I’m writing this, I see HE wrote something with me.. Above..
Am I really losing it at 29? No.. No. It’s not me. I’m fine. Really: College and 2 jobs…
They’re fine.
There is something in the recesses of my tortured mind, something festering that demands my intimate exploration of the psychological labyrinth within, something orchestrating all this. This suffering or someone. Unraveling sanity.. huh haha.. Such a dramatic revelation but the best context I can give..
I.. can feel myself descending into the shadows that had long haunted the corridors of my mind, and my eyes are still open as I type out this anchor, this message, this note.
I’m beginning to have fractured fragments of my own memory and of my sanity; I no longer get any escape from these fragments of my own memory and of my sanity, I’m no longer get fragments of my own memory, and of my insanity;
I no longer get memory,
I’d know of my insanity;
I’m no longer.