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It has been sort of a weird month. I don't have a very good memory right now, so I should try to remember the earlier parts.

Outside of seeing my friend leave on the 23rd and filling out the forms for the SSI re-evaluation, I really don't remember a whole lot. I think that the reason why I don't remember things so well is because I'm kind of going through a lot of emotional turmoil right now. The Monday after my friend left, I thought to myself "Hey, this isn't so bad." But by Tuesday I was sort of freaking out during the evenings, and this was the same the following day. Today I could barely be in public while I was getting groceries. I wasn't crying or anything; I'm just pretty emotionally and mentally upset right now. It is hard for me to seriously remember or think about anything. If I was using drugs and still drinking alcohol, then that would account for at least part of it, but that isn't happening. I'm just a very mentally fragile person, now. Later last month, I found out that a person I used to know online back in the 00s killed himself by jumping off of a 10th floor balcony about a year ago. While I was not friends with that person, it hurt me. I think that I've become more sensitive to the world due to the fact that alcohol no longer dulls either my mind or my senses. But at the same time, my emotions become more out of control. In a way, it is good, because then I finally feel alive, but you just crash and burn in the end, and thus you cannot feel much for a while. This is what happened to me, although I now feel again.

I'm not eating a lot. I wonder if I'm doing okay; I would say that I am, but I'm often preoccupied with my health to the point of neurosis. I've decided to make a lot of changes in my habits, such as not eating meat unless if it is offered, reducing sodium intake, not drinking alcohol, not drinking or eating anything with high sugar content, and reducing substance use (the less the better). So far, I'm more or less following all of that. I still smoke, but I only smoke about two or three cigarettes a night. No amount is safe, but I don't think that it will hurt me much.

I just really need to get my life in order. I'm going to be 33 in less than two months, meaning that I'm well past my prime. In just two short years, I will no longer be young at all. I already feel at least ten years older than my age. I don't look horrible, and I feel that I'm making the right choices, but I'm still a bit worried about how I'm going to hold up. I haven't really done a lot in the past year, and I feel that all of my opportunities are gone. Hell, I took all of them, and even succeeded at them, but look at me now. I'm nothing. I don't believe in self-pity, because I'm still very motivated to become something, but what the hell am I doing? I just really don't understand why my life is so broken, and why I can't get around to doing much. I really just do enough to care for myself; outside of that, I just can't. I'm not lazy, I just don't have the ability to do much. And it disgusts me because I have potential to do a lot.

And I just feel so odd, here. I've been in this town for so long, and the people aren't getting any older. In a way, it is interesting to see the young college kids act in ways that weren't typical when I was their age, but again, I just have no idea about what to do here. I just don't connect to anyone, anywhere, but here especially. At least if I was in a city, there would be a lot more people my own age, but cities would be terrible for me. I just don't know where to go.

Well, at least I'm feeling things again.
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It has been about a month again.

Things have gotten better, I think. August has gone by surprisingly fast; July felt like it was three months cramped into one, whereas August felt like it was about half as long as it actually was.

I've been reading a bit more, which is good for me. I've also been drinking a lot less, because I no longer feel the need to anymore. I only have alcohol about once a week now, if that. It is too soon to tell if this will go on to be a better thing, but it seems promising so far. I also haven't done drugs, for the most part. Part of that is because I'm worried about my mental state, and most of it is because I no longer need either drugs or alcohol to feel high, or really anything else anymore.

I can't believe that taking myself off that damn medication brought about my actual improvement. I also can't believe that I was on that medication for about three years. I'm going to make damn sure that I will not be put on a medication like that again.

I think that my memory and my ability to speak fluent conversations has improved, but I have no serious idea about either issue. It is hard to know, because I don't talk much anymore, and what is the point of having a good memory when every day is almost the same? Or rather, how can you tell that you have a good memory when you live like that?

One of my friends is moving away in about a month. She has to take care of her mother, who fell ill almost six months ago. I feel pretty bad for her, but on the side of the same token, she didn't really like being here, so it is for the best. Not to mention that she's been here for five years and I've been around her for that long, too, so it is time for both of us to move on, I think.

I'm really starting to feel uncomfortable when I go to the university. I simply stick out like I'm an older loser. The library itself isn't an inappropriate location to visit, but I'm so much older than the kids that go there and they just look and act so young. I actually started to feel this way exactly four years ago, but it was only a subtle feeling back then. Now, I just seem like a creep that never made it in life, who has had all of his youth drained out of him and just wanders around like a ghost of the past. I really only have my past in this town, when you think about it, but at least I have something here, because no matter where I go, I'm not going to have any future. But when you think about it, I don't think that there is such a thing.

I really only go there to see another friend who gives me coffee. That's it. I really like that friend a lot, though, so I don't want to stop going in general, at least for a while.

I just can't relate to people anymore. I mean, they just seem to be a lot more stupid. I don't think that it is because I'm better than them, so much as that I simply read a lot more books and educate myself on the things that others are neglecting (mostly knowledge of the past). For several years, I thought that I was stupid and others were smarter than me, and perhaps for a time that was true, but now it is clearly the opposite. The question is, though, what am I going to do about that? I don't know if that question has an answer.

I just don't know anymore. At least I know what I want to write about now (or at least I have better ideas), however I'm not even going to bother mentioning them, because there is no reason to state them when I'll likely just drop them, like I do with most things. But I'm not bitter or depressed; my life is improving...I just don't know what kind of end it will have. I mean, it is obvious now that all of my opportunities have dried up, and I even took some of those opportunities and got nothing back, so...
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It has been almost a whole month since I last posted here. I forgot to visit this place until just recently, due to a lot of stuff happening.

On the 23rd of the last month, I decided to stop taking Olanzapine. I just felt that it got in the way of my emotions and the ability to experience pleasure in my life, and I was right about that. But what I didn't know, was that going off of it induces quite a nasty withdrawal, and I had no idea about that. Of course, I am well experienced with both taking medication and going off of medication, since I've been doped up for half my life. Despite this, the past few weeks have been somewhat hellish, to say the least, although there has been a lot of good, too. And it is also important to note that this is in no way my worst instance of going off of a medication. It is really only about the 3rd worst withdrawal I've had.

So, what is it like? At first, it felt wonderful. I felt like I could actually feel things in life again, and this is in fact true. I don't have to use substances in order to enjoy myself; I haven't used drugs in weeks and I hate smoking now, because it tastes gross. I still feel like drinking beer occasionally, but that is really only to calm my nerves, and I no longer feel the need to get drunk every day anymore (I don't even drink half as much as I used to). I can feel "high" just by being myself, and doing something as simple as looking at grass makes me feel grateful to be alive. Nonetheless, a few days later the negative symptoms started to appear. Headaches occurred, I felt nauseous, I was scatterbrained, I had horrible irritability, I had weird abdominal cramps, I felt that I was going to have a heart attack, I didn't want to eat, and so on. While I didn't want to off myself and I didn't feel like I was going to die, I still felt really sick, and I wasn't really myself for a few days. In some ways, I'm still not, for I'm not really able to be around people unless if I'm going to see people I already know. I was never an extremely friendly character in my full-grown adulthood, but my asocial nature has reached a higher level. I don't want to stop being friends with the ones I'm already on good terms with, but I have no desire to be friends with anyone else. I'm still polite, though.

I don't regret doing this, and the withdrawal effects have calmed down somewhat, but I think that I really am a changed person, albeit mostly for the better. Despite wanting little to do with others, I no longer have addiction problems (right now, at least), I feel happier, I'm more socially aware, I no longer have my delusions, I don't have violent fantasies, I'm usually not angry, and I feel like I'm finally taking the steps towards becoming my true self. I am a little less focused and perhaps a bit more paranoid, but I always was.

I think that I had delusions because the Olanzapine limited my ability to think in terms of associations and depth, and as such I became more frustrated and emotionally aroused when I couldn't figure out a problem due to that limitation. From that, I came to conclusions based on insubstantial evidence, something that I otherwise would not have done. But once I stopped taking the medication, I was able to finally face my demons, and I got over them, at least for now.

I told two of my friends last week, and at first they were worried about me, but now they are fine about it. I also told my brother three days ago and my therapist yesterday, and both were surprisingly supportive. I honestly feel that I'm on the right track now.

My brother told me that due to being medicated for half my life, beginning at the age of 16, I wasn't able to really establish my true identity, and now I can. I think that he was absolutely right about that. There were so many things that I did from then until now, that were the result of my brain being messed with, and thus me being confused. It was really tragic, if you think about it.

I might write a book about how I survived the "system", sooner or later. I'm going to give it a few months, though, just to see how things turn out.

Outside of that, I've been noticing some odd things in the world, but they are interesting things that make me wonder about the nature of existence. I might write about those at a later time, though. Right now, I'm just going to take things as they are, because it would be too soon to come to any conclusions.
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About a week ago, I went a little nuts. I don't know why. Obviously, I didn't go to psych ward or anything, but it did catch me way off guard. I think that it happened because I was starting to lack empathy for everyone, and the God inside of me wanted to have me humbled. It was odd, too, because I was beginning to question whether or not I really was disabled; now I know that I certainly am.

I just ramble on and my speech is a bit disjointed (my writing, not so much, but it requires a lot of concentration and focus in order to write in an intelligent manner). My creativity is higher and I feel like a genius, but I believe that this may just either be a sense of grandiosity, mania, or both. I'm seldom manic, so I don't really know how to handle it. It is kind of fun, though; despite being under psychic stress, life seems magical again. My life hasn't felt magical since 2013, so this was welcome; I figured that my life forever lacked the luster and the intrigue that made it worth living, but apparently not. I've been a little paranoid and have thought about ways to hide from others off the grid, and there are times where I think of myself as a part of a government think tank (which would probably be my dream job), but for the most part I know what I am.

It is hard to get my bearings right now, though.

I was talking to my friend today, and we were discussing how most people lack empathy, and can't put themselves into other people's shoes. I told her that I could, but she said that I'm not like most people. I think that this is the reason why I have so many problems; I'm around others who simply aren't as emotionally developed as me, I think. Even the intelligent ones, seem not to put too much thought into the inner dynamics of the mind, and the situations of others. I do feel that I'm a bit smarter than others, but that is because I had to work for it, not because I was born that way. Growing up, I was made to feel like I was an idiot, and I was seen and claimed to be an idiot, not just by my classmates (and some teachers), but also my family. There was a period of roughly four or five years where I was the "family embarrassment". It took me the better part of a decade to become as wise and relatively decent as I am now.

The thing is, though, is that I don't want to think that I'm so much smarter than everyone else. Partially, because I have flaws of my own, but mostly because I really do try to see the good points of someone's mind. But the simple fact of the matter is that people just don't want to use their minds and become more educated and wise; they just want to settle for simple mental heuristics and labels, because it is far less mentally taxing. I just don't understand why even the professionals are so cognitively lazy, when they are the ones who should be putting their minds to the grind.

I can use it to my advantage, though. I'm starting to finally see how people tick, and I can gain from such valuable insight. I have a business plan of sorts that utilizes simple online advertisements that have a simple message but are so politically and emotionally charged that people who don't like to think very deeply would click on it; it would take them to another site with ads, thus generating a profit that would gradually accumulate. I have to learn more about how it works in order for it to work, though, but knowing how I could potentially get rich off of other people's simplicity (or to bluntly put it, stupidity), it is pretty morbidly entertaining for me. I don't really want to focus on money, though; this is more of a game to me than anything else.

Well, I suppose that I should try to get better, if that is what is best.
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Well, I found a place about a week ago, and I move in on the 24th.

It is great because I was so worried, and now I realize that while I had reason to be paranoid, it really wasn't as bad as I thought it was. The place itself is decent, but I will miss this place, in particular the view. But it is a one bedroom and is actually cheaper there than here, so it will probably work out for the best. Outside of my last year in graduate school, I never had a place that was solely my own (actually, there was that basement that I lived in for three months, but that place was terrible, so as such it doesn't quite count). In any case it has been a long time that I will have a private place, at the very least.

I've still been worked up, though. Don't quite know why; you'd think that the issues would be over when the problems are solved, but that is not always the case. Perhaps emotions don't work like that; it goes back to how I stated over half a year ago that we have more than one mind. I had a hard time today, but I drank a bit too much last night. I'm going to try to not drink so much anymore. I mean, what is the point?

I've been reading again. Mostly poetry by French authors. I rather like Rimbaud, but I feel that my style doesn't ascribe to any school of poetry, nor should it. I don't even try for it not to; it just doesn't. I'm almost done with my second book of poems.

I realized something about a week ago: my mother is dead, will always be dead, and I can only ever see her in my dreams from now on, and as such, I need to move on. Drinking won't make it better, nor will mourning on an annual basis. I just don't feel anything anymore, and it is long past, so as such, I have to move on. Although to be fair, I didn't drink that horribly this time around. It just feels natural to let it pass...I've changed a lot since she died.

I feel like I've become an idiot. I'm not; I'm just burdened right now. Stress can change the way you think for a while; it will probably last for a few weeks or so.
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I'm not feeling too well.

I don't know if it is physically or psychologically rooted. It could be both. I just feel like I'm going haywire and that my body is just acting up. I feel like I see things sometimes, my body heats up for no good reason, my throat swells up, my eyes hurt, I have almost no desire or energy...I just have never been through anything like this before.

When my mother was in hospice, I just felt like I was running on empty. I had to keep myself from crying in my workplace. Fortunately, I did, but that was still embarrassing. The year after Mom's death, I just drank a lot and did a stupid amount of legal highs. Last year, I was only worried about my father doing something inappropriate at my mother's grave.

You'd think that it would be easier as it goes on. That was the trend. But now, it isn't so. It is like my father has completely forgotten about my mother; I brought up that it was the time of the year a few days ago to him, and he just thought that I was talking about the seasons. How dense and shallow could he be? That was his wife, and now he forgets all about her. He replaced her with someone else, and expects his children to be happy for him. Well, I'm not.

Also when I inadvertently brought up about the denial of my autonomy growing up, he added "...and you're going to blame your parents for that?", laughed, and then said that his conscience is clear because while he may have made mistakes, he did what was best. Sure, he might have, but best for whom? It was really all about him, growing up. Not to mention that admitting mistakes and saying that "I did my best" does not absolve you from the fact that you fucked your kid's life up; there is no way I can have a normal life due to what happened to me when younger...I basically have no career path, and no future. What is worse, is that he fully admits that he made mistakes, but that it doesn't affect him at all. That takes some real nerve to openly admit that; he probably is emotionally shallow, with both this and forgetting about my mother. I don't know how long I can talk to him.

And even if my father had nothing to do with it, my life is still hard now as is. I have no motivation; I still want to do things with my life, and I have minor interests, but I can barely do anything. I can't even read a book; I have the fear that depression is turning me into an idiot. I'm not quite drinking myself stupid, but I need to watch that, as well.

I feel that this is the beginning of a downward spiral. I don't know how to stop it. It is bad enough that things are the way they are with my mother dead and my father the way he is; I also need to find another place as soon as possible. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is ringing true for me, and it may not end up pretty. Just...Jesus. I ended up dealing with low blows, and they all synergized into one great mess.

I don't feel suicidal. Oddly, I feel less angry at myself, or anything anymore. I'm just sad. Perhaps that is a sign of maturity; anger barely changes anything. It can, but it usually doesn't.
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I'm experiencing anxiety and stuff at this time. It is just the time of the year; three years ago was the day when my mother entered hospice, and she died two months later. You'd think that it would get better, and in some ways it ways, but in quite a few other ways it hasn't. I still dream about my mother on the odd occasion, but it really does feel like she's dead now. It has been that way for roughly half a year.

Tomorrow is also the five year anniversary of me leaving MTSU. I can't decide if that is a long time or a short one. Plenty has changed about both myself and others (I don't trust alcohol anymore, I don't like to party, I don't like bars, and one of my friends is dead). But even if not, it doesn't matter because that phase has passed and I doubt that I'll ever meet those people or visit that place again. I mean, sure, you never know, but it just seems unlikely. I did like being there, for the most part, but it is time to move on. On to what, though, I am not sure. I don't have much of a clue, to be honest. Oh well, at least I can say that I more or less act like an adult now.

So I'm just dealing with seasonal shit. Mostly in my personal life, but there have been a few things in the environment, as well. I must have allergies, because my eyes hurt and my nose isn't always doing well. I also don't like it when it suddenly gets hot. Mostly, though, I feel like I have mild dementia, because I can't focus, I get very angry for no reason, I forget things, and I feel like I'm hallucinating half the time. Then again, I seem to do that around this time of the year, and this was true even before my mother dying and then dead.

I've been having odd bouts of hypnagogic visions. It is cool that I have them, but I can't control them very well. I'm just taken to different vistas, and I can see them as plainly as if my eyes were open, but there isn't much to do in those places, if you even can do anything in the first place. Whenever I request a vision or an action of my own creation, it seems like my subconscious taunts me and either denies it, or gives me something I wouldn't expect. It seems that even in either the Astral plane or the Mental plane, I have little to no power.

Just...I don't know. It just feels crazy.
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I had Thanksgiving last week. I met my father's girlfriend, and she was okay. My brother was there as well, and we hung out a bit. He saw some empty boxes of nitrous oxide under my bed when he came over and was really pissed, but he eventually calmed down; he just said that I shouldn't do those things because it affects the rest of the family. I told him that those boxes were from weeks ago and that I'm not interested in drugs anymore (which is true, for the most part) but he didn't believe me in the beginning and had to leave for a while. He came back, though, and we drank beer and took a photo of ourselves; that was basically the first photo of me in about two years. The day after, he said that he did go a little overboard and he acknowledged that I was being pretty rational with him during the whole thing. But man, that was hard to deal with at the time.

Oddly, I was more nervous around my father than I was around his girlfriend. He just acts happy all the time; it is pretty weird. I wonder when it is going to come crashing down, if it ever does. It is just going to be strange either way.

Outside of that, my life right now is quiet, but strange. Strange in that there is no drama or anything stressing me out, and yet I seem to get huge pangs of anxiety, sometimes to the point where I am physically ill. I'm usually pretty good at figuring out why I feel a certain way, or why I'm in a bad mood, but right now I'm lost. I can't find any reason why I feel so off. Perhaps it is because I'm still processing, or rather trying to come to terms, with the events of last week? It is possible. What is also possible is that I see my future, or whatever is going to be the rest of my life, as some vast, murky void; I have no idea where I am going to be in even two years. I don't even know who I am going to be. Not a single clue can be found. I suppose that I do have a fear of the future, but it isn't so strong in that I still enjoy things and have hobbies as well as talents. As much as the future is unknown to me, I still look forward to what it may have to offer.

To be honest, though, I think that some things will get better, and other things worse. I see the young college kids today, and they are nothing like how college kids were when I was their age. I mean, we did our fair share of partying as well, but kids these days are so narcissistic, rude and entitled. I remember a year ago when some young harlot passed me by and arrogantly called me a douche, and I didn't even say a single word to her. Back when I was her age, only the nastiest whores would do that. And maybe that was what she was, but I think people like her are more common these days due to the widespread usage of social media, especially since most college kids got into it when they were barely in their teens. Not all young people are like this, though, and it is a relatively recent development; college kids weren't like that in 2010, and that was only four or five years ago. I'd say that the trend started around 2011 or so, and got progressively worse up until this point. I just wonder, when these kids are finally going to grow up and realize that they have to treat others with respect, if they ever do.

But then again, this could just be me, a somewhat older man berating a younger generation and thinking that back in his day, things were so much better. Seriously, though, if they really are this bad, I wonder how the generation after them will be? It won't be too much longer when they are going to be in their shoes.

Funny how up until I was 27 or so I honestly felt like I was in my element whenever I was at the university. Now I just feel like a fucking alien. Even if I had to go back to college (anything could happen with SSI), I wouldn't want to. But that would really be the only chance to get a decent job in order to support myself.

I honestly think that I'm becoming more disabled in that I don't always say the right words or omit words when I write, or forget things or get disorganized in my thoughts, or otherwise have an odd surge of negative emotion and have impulses to do stupid stuff, but that could all be in my head. I can still function, obviously.

In any case, I'm writing again now. The writer's block was lifted. I'm writing about the dynamics of "Light" versus "Dark" and how it pertains to human nature. It is interesting, but it will probably be very short.
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It has been a while.

I've had some ups and downs, with more downs than ups in the past week or so. But I know how to manage, and I realize that just because I have a thought or a feeling, doesn't mean that it is automatically justified.

I honestly think that I'm a little down because I still sort of fear a possible death right after I turn 31. Well, perhaps "fear" isn't the right word; I have no problem with death but I wonder what would come after it, if I have "prepared" myself for it, if you will.

I'm also down because I haven't written anything in a while, although I am reading again. Reading helps me take the focus off of myself and try to be constructive with my thoughts. I have vague ideas about what I want to write, but I can't be bothered to do it right now; I still need to acquire more knowledge. Writing gave me a purpose in life, and without that purpose, I'm lost. And you know what happens when you are lost...

I'm studying the concept of gnosis right now. The Gnostic religions are sort of bullshit, but I find the concept itself pretty interesting. I want to learn more about it before I simply shrug it off.

Outside of that, I'm not really doing anything else. I want to gain more insight and power, but I need to examine my own flaws and limitations first.
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It has been kind of an odd week or so.

I did DXM with Damiana last Saturday, because it was a full moon. I was able to see abstract images telling me how my future was going to be like (a brick forming and then slid into a wall, and then a white string being woven into thousands of others, being sent forward towards the night sky). I think that this tells me that I will be a part of some movement or school of thought, which is the most likely thing that will happen. Odin and Satan came to see me; Odin wanted my help, and Satan told me that he could give me power. I then sat down and asked Odin, Satan, Samael and God what they thought about me wanting knowledge, but not power. None of them seemed pleased, although they had different takes on why they didn't approve.

There were many other things that happened, such as summoning an angel and feeling energy rushing into me from an outside source, but they are recorded elsewhere (reddit).

During the earlier portion of the week, I felt anxiety coming back. I wondered if my trip has caused such emotional disturbance, but that may not be it. Sometimes I feel like crying, but I never do. I'm very foggy in my mind right now, and for the past few days I've been making more mistakes while driving, as well as not talking quite properly and writing very well.

I get the feeling that something will happen soon. I just don't know when, or what. Fortunately, my judgment and intelligence are not very impaired; it is simply how I express myself, and interact in the world.

In any case, SSI called on Monday and told me to spend the extra money that I have by November. So I bought a used PS3 with two games and some t-shirts, as well as some other things. I may get a new laptop, but I'm still thinking about that.

I had a dream two nights ago where I was in the car with my mother, and she was making mistake after mistake, and we ended up in an accident. She went to the hospital and it turned out that she had early onset Alzheimer's...it was a rapid decline and she quickly died. I was thinking to myself in the dream, "It would have been better if she died of cancer two years ago."

But that isn't the end of it. Mother was given a prescription of Memantine, which can be used recreationally as a dissociative, and when she died I lifted it. Well, the staff caught me and they thought that I was being suicidal. I got sent to the psych ward in Lewiston, and my sister was with me in a lobby, going on about how Dad is in a relationship now so soon after Mother's death and how pathetic he is. I agreed with her. As it turned out, the Rosauer's in Lewiston said that I had to work there and was on call, so I got the permission of the psych ward staff to leave during the evenings to work there and then come back, like the psych ward was a hotel.

It was a long dream, and an odd one that revealed a lot.

I wonder why I'm having issues right now? Probably too many changes, and not knowing how to deal with them. But nonetheless, this is far from being the worst part of my life. I just hope that it doesn't get worse, though.
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It has been a while.

I've been meaning to write in this journal, but there has been a combination of too much going on, and too little.

I've decided that I'm going to move to Portland, OR in a year. There is a significant occult scene there, and I'd like to at least become familiar with it. Not only that, but I will have been here for five years by that time, and that is long enough for me. I mean, I love Moscow, but this place has little to offer really even now, outside of my friends. And I will miss my friends, but I've got to expand my horizons, you know? I'll just stagnate if I stay here, it is time to move on and grow up again.

I lost the calmness from that one DXM trip, but the mental heuristics and lessons learned stayed with me, and I'm doing a bit better still. Not completely, but I don't experience horrible mood swings and I've stopped hating people as certain groups or races; I just look down on most people in general. I'm not completely a misanthrope; I just wonder how "good" most people really are.

I'm still doing DXM occasionally, and have been learning a lot from it. It seems that as time goes on, the more my experiences with it evolve. Even my weakest trips this year rival almost all that I experienced back in 2011, or even a few from last year. DXM seems to change on me a bit, even when I'm taking the same medication.

I've been reading parts of the Old Testament, and needless to say, it is a bit fucked up. I don't agree with almost anything in there and I'm wondering just how good Judaism is, how good Christianity is, and perhaps how good God is. I'm wondering how much of a farce it all is (for instance, there is no archeological evidence that the Jews were ever in ancient Egypt, and Babylon never fell to the Jews as the Jews predicted they would). Since the New Testament is at least partially based on the Old, I'm wondering if I should continue on with the whole thing. But I should probably read more into it.

I didn't go to church last Sunday; partially because of the Old Testament thing, but mostly because of the Elliot Rodger ordeal. I'm not like that guy, I know, but I am also an older virgin who has had bouts of anger towards women (but not men) and it kind of struck a nerve in my sensitive heart. I just don't want to be like that narcissistic prick.

In other news, I've been writing again. It is a non-fictional work titled A Perception of Existence and Reality, where I talk about what makes up the fabric of the universe, except in a simple, theoretical fashion. I've reached about 9,000 words in nine days, and the goal is around 20,000 - 25,000, so I'm getting close. I don't know if I will publish it, or just put it on Academia.edu.

Well, that is it.
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So, what has happened?

I stopped writing poetry, but I'm still reading voraciously. I make notes in my notebook, so that I will use them later for further writings.

I actually wrote a paper for the class that I am auditing, that is centered on defining the self. It is a surprisingly hard thing to do, and I really only barely did it. I told the professor that I didn't think that what makes a person unique defines what the self is, and he found that to be interesting. But we'll see how it goes.

I plan on writing more books, and I am going to start writing one on mysticism and philosophy (my own original take, of course) by the time the semester ends. I think that it is critical to do so, since I'm in my 30s now, and I get the feeling that this may be the only time I will be able to, since I might die soon. I doubt it, but it could very well be possible. I'm not going to take any classes in either the summer or the fall, so I'll have plenty of time to do it, and no excuses. I need to do something with my life, anyways. And writing is really the one talent that I truly have.

My mental illness is still around. Not quite as bad, but definitely still ebbing and flowing in the recesses of my mind. But I'm starting to get over it, and I feel that I'm letting go of my obsessive thoughts and feelings, finally. It wasn't that I was stuck on one or two things in the past so much as though a whole lot of small things (and not so small) gradually built up in my youth, providing fuel for the growing fires of apathy, rage, and grief. It isn't healthy for me to do that. I'm 30, and I still have most of my adult life ahead of me. Let my past go; it isn't relevant anymore.

Of course, to truly escape things, I would literally have to move (probably to somewhere I haven't lived before), but I'll take that when it has to happen (not for another year, at least).
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A bit has happened, but it is kind of hard to summarize; partially because things just fade into my subconscious by this point, but mostly because my thoughts and feelings change by the day, so as such there is little to no consistency.

I have realized that my personal past can do nothing but to harm me, and dwelling on it simply causes me to be insensibly angry. Anger does not serve well in either furthering my emotional state for the better, or to move on in life, so as such I should really try as hard as I can to forget about the past and to not be angry so much. All that anger does, is to stunt my psychological growth.

And if you think about it, anger is really a sign of a deep vulnerability that you have; a bright light signaling your insecurities and lack of confidence. I really do have problems with security and confidence. While I am working on it, and I am gaining more confidence, there is a long road ahead of me that I have just barely started on.

As for the hate I had toward women? Did me absolutely no good. They hated me because I had hate towards them, and made it known and directly guided (more or less) online. Who wouldn't hate you if you did that to them? Only the kindest of souls, the saints of women, would be kind to me after that. Granted, most women are not that good, but neither are men. I am certainly not, even though I like to think of myself as such.

So, what do I do, now that I am enlightened by this insight? I will more than likely relapse into the anger and hate, because they are mental heuristics, and even I am not immune to being intellectually lazy when I am emotionally compromised. But I now know, that I am solely at fault, and I will do my best to make sure that I will be better towards others, and more importantly, towards myself.

Through acquisition of knowledge, I will become more adept at handling my faults. Let me continue on.
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I saw my therapist today, and she told me one very important thing: that emotions do not dictate reality, or who or what you really are.

On the onset, that is obvious. Most people would just say "Duh..." to that. But in all seriousness, most people really don't think about what that actually means. And for good reason, because emotions by and large dictate our personal, public image, demeanor, as well as what we like to think about and what we decide to value and choose to do.

But just because you have an emotional reason for why you feel the way you do, or act the way you do, doesn't at all mean that is how it actually is. How many people have wonderful lives, and yet feel like shit for absolutely no reason whatsoever? Quite a few. And then there are those who have horrible lives and yet for some reason or another aren't quite as miserable as you would think. Not too many of them, but they do exist.

Just because I feel like something, doesn't mean that I am that something. I really should have known better by this point, but all throughout my life, emotions of both myself and others guided my development towards a warped end. An emotion, however, does not always correspond to how your life really is. I have a good life where I can do whatever I want, and yet I'm haunted by so many different things. Intellectually I know that emotions and passions lead you nowhere, but I didn't know how to take control of my mind, partially due to my mental illness and mostly because my life was pretty much never any different.

This all started a little while ago when I thought my dad was a creep. But then it occurred to me that he wasn't; he was just emotionally disturbed. When I focused on myself, I realized that I was the one who felt like a creep. And yes, some people would consider me as such. But quite a few wouldn't, and just because I felt that way, doesn't mean that I am.

Just...I don't know. I've learned so much during this past week or so that my mind hurts. Not to mention that I've been totally off-base since there has been more light in the day; I must have the opposite of Seasonal Affective Disorder. But I'll find a way to survive the lows.
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I'm still around. Just nothing has really changed, outside of my thoughts.

I went to church today, and I mentioned to my pastor how I have a lot of ugly, destructive thoughts towards people. He basically said that I had that anger because I wanted to have it, which I didn't accept at first, but when I said that most people would just do me harm and leave me to rot, he said that Jesus had to suffer the same, and yet he still forgave them. That made me think a bit about my emotional state.

Most of the people I've been extremely angry at are people that I've had altercations with online; I don't even know what these people look like, let alone have ever met them. And yet I was around them for an extended amount of time, people who I probably wouldn't even notice in real life, and I let their toxic words seep into my soul. I let people who I never knew well, never met them in real life and would never either truly be their friend or enemy, hurt me in ways almost no one in real life ever had. People I didn't know, didn't care about, didn't get along with, and nonetheless I let them all warp me.

Why hate them? Why be hurt by them? The answer is simple: you don't. For all they were, was just a stream of words on a monitor. Never hearing their voices, seldom seeing their faces...they were just phantoms. And due to my weakness, I let them haunt me.

I'm a full grown man, now. I won't let that happen again. No one on the internet knows me fully or truly, and I'll never let any vulnerability show again. And seriously, my heart needs to harden, or else I'll just become a monster.
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I'm in the middle of an episode right now.

I don't know why. I was doing okay until I came home after class and then WHAM. This has happened so often that it has scrambled the emotional part of my brain, so as such I have no fucking idea why I'm like this, or why it is the way it is.

Well, that isn't true. Dad told me yesterday that he has a girlfriend now. That could be fucking with me. I acted neutral about it, but the truth is that it is going to change the family dynamics quite a bit. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind him moving away and having a life completely separate from me (in fact, I would prefer that); but I wouldn't like any of the drama that will come with it. And I know that there will be.

If it gets bad, I'll just keep my distance. I have enough respect for myself to do that. But it will fuck me up, either way. It hasn't even been two years since Mom died. Deep down inside, I really don't accept any of it. So now I do know why I'm having an episode.

I guess I'm not as emotionally retarded or as damaged as I thought. I mean, I eventually do figure things out, and I'm aware that I'm not normal. My earlier portion of my life warped me into an unlovable mess.

In other news, I got a book on Tibetan Meditation today, from the university library. I will definitely read it, but not today. I'm too emotionally frazzled.
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We got internet back! That means that I get to access it whenever I want to, pretty much.

I don't know how to feel about that. On one hand, it will make things less boring at the apartment, but on the other, not having it prompted me to actually go outside, and read, make games, and write. Of course I will continue to do those things, however I probably won't for a while due to the distraction that the internet will provide. While I am glad that it is back, I sort of appreciated the times I had without it.

I was really angry this morning, and had a headache. I was getting into my delusions, but when I saw the therapist today, I was able to talk about them, and told her that I felt horrible. It all stemmed from the fact that I desire to be appreciated and loved, and I've been rejected by both my family and society in general. There is no way to fix that, but since I know what is causing those ugly thoughts and feelings, it will be easier to deal with.

I mentioned the Zoroastrian belief of the afterlife to her, about how if you have lived a life with pure thoughts, you meet an angel on a bridge, but if you have ugly thoughts, you meet a hag that throws you off of the bridge, down into hell. She said that everyone would meet the hag, so that makes me feel better.

So I'm better now. I really don't think that I will be in a bad place for a while, or at least I hope not.
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I have written 18,000 words so far, in just a week and a half. It is now at the beginning of the middle, where Saranna is about to be shipped off to a prison for men. A lot will happen to her during her sentence, and surprisingly it won't go straight into sexual abuse. It wouldn't be a good novel if it did.

My mind seems a little hazy, recently. I haven't become less intelligent (or at least I hope not), but it is harder for me to spell words and put my thoughts together. Maybe I am just fatigued, or perhaps I have become aware of faults that I have always had, but didn't know about until recently.

From writing my book, I have become aware of many things about the technique of writing professionally. I have also learned about some of the mistakes I have made in the past. This doesn't mean that I am a bad writer; I am simply far from perfect. I mean, how can I be when I haven't even published my first book yet?

I had a beer last night, but I didn't have another one. Something about drinking beer just didn't feel right; sometimes I enjoy it, and other times it just feels strange. I haven't gotten drunk in about two months, now, and I've noticed that my general demeanor and level of maturity has improved. I told my psychiatrist yesterday that I used to get drunk almost every night, and there were times when I would throw up every night for weeks. She mentioned that doing so probably killed some brain cells, but I countered her by saying that it probably didn't lower my IQ, but rather made me emotionally labile and stunted for a while. She more or less agreed.

Not much else...university has started back up, which is probably a good thing.
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I met with one of my friends today. I hadn't seen her in a while so it was nice to talk to her, even though I was in a negative funk. I just told her how I've realized that most of the people who I thought as being my friends really weren't as great of them as I thought. Some of them have just faded away from my life, for little to no reason.

It just makes me wonder, do I attach to people too much? Do I trust them more than I should? Do I tell them a lot more than I should?

To be absolutely serious, there is really only one person in my life who knows about all the horrible stuff in my head, and still likes me (she is the friend I talked to today). I haven't told the others because I know that it would scare them away.

So in reality, I really only have one friend. But I suppose it all depends on how you would define 'friend'. Some people have a very broad, shallow definition of it; others hold it in high esteem, and only give it to a handful of people, if they do at all. I am of the former; I have no problems making "friends" or even keeping them for a while, but almost all of the friendships I have had have been very superficial and shallow. I often wonder if I am really capable of having a deep relationship with someone; honestly, I feel as if that part of me has atrophied due to being originally over-sensitive, and later on calloused and paranoid.

I really just see others as those who would be more than willing to cause me harm, or at least wouldn't care. This isn't really due to some juvenile pessimism towards humanity; that is just how they are. History has proven this.

The fact that I realize that I have a problem with really knowing who is a friend, who can be trusted, as well as that I may be forever-alone due to being a quasi-sociopath means that I am making a certain amount of progress. All I need is a solution of some sort. The problem is that I have no idea what that would be.

Maybe there is no solution, or that it is too late for one. What if this is just my way, my destiny? I don't believe in fate, however I have come to realize that I probably have the odd mindset that I have for a reason. I'm curious as to what that reason is. I still have potential to make something out of myself.
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Last night I called up my brother, and during the middle of it I said a lot of violent things. He acted very disturbed by it, and told me to repeat what I said to my therapist today, which I did. The thing was, though, was that I only remembered part of it and unlike the last time I said something scary, I actually had embarrassment and shame for what I did. I think that what haunted my brother was that I said the violent things in a very cold, calm, matter-of-fact way.

I remember when I got fairly disturbed when I came back home from graduate school in 2010. I was more or less the same way; by the end of it I was just very calm and composed, whereas my family was blowing up at me. At least during most of it; I was kind of a mess then.

I think that I have such issues because I grew up in a toxic family that had plenty of issues themselves, but denied them so they put it all on me because it was safe to do that due to my complacent, sissified nature. Well, that fucked me up.

My therapist was very understanding; she said that she had seen me say things much worse than that and she could tell that I had remorse and was sincerely concerned about myself. She just thinks that my emotions boiled over momentarily due to my focus on intellectual stuff for such a long time. So as such, there isn't really anything to be worried about.

I just feel sort of sluggish right now. And aggravated, as well. I've been sleeping better, which is good for me. I should probably take a break or something, but I still want to do things.

August 2017

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