u/ImpartialAntagonist

What a terrible boring psychosis this is. In all of its depictions and the way I’ve seen it in real life; the manifestation of one losing their mind has always been the explosive, violent type. Or maybe that was the only kind that was easily dismissed or looked down upon. I’m not crazy because I’m not screaming at the top of my lungs or thrashing around or rocking back and forth mumbling gibberish to myself. You don’t see the others that just waste away. Consumed by their own mind. Aware but robbed of their will and tether.

All of the basic exogenous factors that should feed and nurture a consciousness are instead experienced and repelled; undigested, spit out on the floor without regard. As a function of some forced narcissism. That the Mind or person or self should be immutable and static when I never had a choice in the matter. This supremacy extends to my body. It’s not mine, I don’t like it. It extends to my thoughts. They’re not mine, I don’t like them. My expectations of reality do not align with material reality. What’s happening to me right now cannot be real because I have a reference for how it should be.

But it is. A waking screaming nightmare where I have to watch all of my relationships wink out of existence. I am a stone faced simpleton sitting in the back of my head unable to intervene in the ruin playing out in front of me. My job, my coworkers, my friends, my family, my peace, my control. Taken out and raped to death in a vacuum. I don’t know how I did it before. I guess it was just one of those things I didn’t know I had until it was erased. There’s nothing else to give, finally. Ten years of this bullshit and I have finally been atomized. I’m getting evicted soon and my family hates me. My friends have made their distance. I am jobless. And it’s my fault. Ensnared by an infinite dream and entombed in an empty skull.

This is simply an existential flailing type post, I’m not looking for any particular advice or soothing. As I’m typing this post I’m sitting out on the deck of my apartment. The weather is warm, I can hear the beginnings of a lively night at the bar down the street from me because they start their shows a little early. I’m slinging back beers and chain smoking cigarettes. Something I used to legitimately enjoy only a year ago; through the blinding dissociation I still had that. I still had the basic, human faculties that let me alter myself and pretend to be one of the other normal people who get to live a normal life.

This was core to me. Being able to change myself through what was psycho-alchemy and achieve a state of zen and thoughtfulness. Now excised, now gone. I am telling you have been blasting cigarettes and drinking liquor for two hours and I only feel slightly heavier and disappointed. Every input I can muster that should evoke a forced response or change is inert. Through all of these chemical and environmental stimuli I am the same. I am still a small black void and slurring voice in my head. I have became so utterly useless.

I knew this was going to happen eventually. Still though; to feel it and have it be my reality is indescribable agony. I miss myself. Even the self that I hated so much before. It was better. I know that objectively, and it’s gone forever.