Archive for September, 2010


September 30, 2010

12:32 AM 10/1/10

I went to his territory. I have a one out of two chance of being right just by guessing. I first went to North Atherton. I walked around and I didn’t feel anything. I bought a couple of small things and left. I thought he would probably be working at North Atherton because it seemed more straightforward. All you have to do is keep driving down Atherton Street. I think they are coming from the Boalsburg direction. It seemed like it was not much farther. That’s probably because State College, and North Atherton, used to be my frame of reference. That’s the first area I lived in when I moved here in 1997.

Then I went to College Avenue. I was checking the layout of the place, scouting it out, casing the joint – what’s the word I was using? I had a word. I wanted to feel what it was like to walk in there. The one at College Avenue exposes you to the produce department the moment you walk in, very much like it does at my Weis. Although, I guess I could walk in the other doors.

I didn’t think he’d be working at College Avenue, because it seems like you have to go a longer distance in a more indirect way to get there from Boalsburg. But actually, now that I think about it, all you have to do is keep going down the bypass. It’s nicer – you don’t have to go through town and all that traffic, no stoplights.

One bad thing about the College Avenue store is that I think they get less business. So they might tend to cut hours more than the North Atherton one. I worked at that one only briefly. It was mainly the North Atherton one that I used to work at. I was only at College Ave for a couple of weeks, and then I quit my job because I was doing other things – I was still working for the temp agencies on and off at that time, and I hadn’t settled down in a job yet.

So tonight I went in there and as I was walking my nostrils opened up and I started sniffing. I was sniffing fast shallow breaths in and out and hyperventilating. I used to do that when I worked with him. I pretended I was able to smell him. I can’t actually smell anything, not the way you can smell perfume. He used to wear a wonderful perfume. I don’t know what it was. It smelled like concentrated human pheromones. I saw it as a bluish-purple colored scent, in my mind. But he stopped wearing the perfume, and I still felt like I could smell him. So I walked around at the College Avenue store pretending I could smell him again. It felt like I really could smell him there. I felt this elated rush of joy. My body – I pretended I was an animal and my body had found him again.

It’s funny, like I said, I have a one in two chance of being right. I’m going to feel like a fool if all that sniffing was mistaken. I’d never trust my nose again. I guess I’ll find out.

secret messages

September 30, 2010

Here are some of the things that I had to get away from, things I was seeing on facebook. I started to see ‘hidden meanings’ directed at me. I had just emailed him telling him about how Eric, my ex-boyfriend, works at Giant. (Or at least, he did, the last time I spoke with him. We haven’t even emailed in a very long time.) I said that Eric was the first guy I had sex with. Technically, that’s not *quite* true. I tried to have sex with Terry, but we didn’t really do much, because it was uncomfortable and we stopped. So it was when I was living with Eric that I really had sex for the first time and was having sex frequently, every day.

So after I sent that email, there was a status from Curtis that said he had been out partying all night and they just got back at 6:00 AM. I had mentioned that Eric usually finishes work and leaves at 6 AM. So when I read that, it was either me myself, or the voices – I don’t know whose idea it was – the idea that he was saying he was out till 6 AM because he wanted to be like Eric, the first person I had sex with.

That was something in the text messages too – he asked me if I was a virgin. I said, ‘You don’t read my blog,’ and he said he didn’t spend much time on the internet. If he read my blog, he’d know I’m not a virgin. I’m not a virgin, but I’ve only had sex with a couple of people. Eric, mostly, and I’ve only had sex with Peter a few times, because it’s always difficult with him. So anyway, the secret message was ‘I want to be Eric,’ the first person I had sex with when I was still a semi-virgin. Those ideas get into my head, and I remember them, and I start believing them. So that was the kind of thing that I had to stop seeing on facebook.

I *am* still a virgin – I am a virgin to childbirth. That is actually very important. If you’ve never had children, then your vagina is probably not as stretched out as someone who has had children. It’s not the same as being a virgin, but still. I haven’t been writing this, but it’s true that I fantasize about having his baby. It’s something ‘they’ have been asking me – whose baby do I want to have first.

Anyway, I had to stop seeing ‘secret messages’ directed at me in his status updates.

Nominal Aphasia, Dysnomia, Anomia, Neologisms

September 30, 2010

I started reading Wikipedia and one thing led to another. When I call my Twitter tweets ‘chirps’ and ‘twirps,’ I do that on purpose because I think it’s funny, but I know perfectly well that they’re actually called tweets. But other times, I really can’t recall people’s names, and I can’t recall nouns. I have to say ‘that thing’ and then make gestures with my hands.


September 30, 2010

It wasn’t William Wordsworth I was thinking of, it was Walt Whitman. I got the “W.W.” initials confused. The voices told me that ‘transcendentalists’ was the word I was trying to remember.

Okay, you know how they say that if you put down your invisibility cloak, how do you ever find it again? Well, there is a brain syndrome kind of like that. It’s a brain syndrome where you can’t recall nouns. You can recognize nouns if somebody else says them, but you can’t pull them out of your own brain by yourself. And I can’t recall the name of the syndrome. What’s the name of that brain problem where you can’t remember the name of things?

the voices just told me. aphasia. hearing voices compensates for my aphasia. it’s called aphasia.


September 30, 2010

1:25 PM 9/30/10

Today they woke me up saying that Curtis needs $800. And he couldn’t ask for that much because it’s too much and it would be unthinkable. I don’t know how far behind he is in his child support payments, but I know that Weis was cutting our hours back in the summertime, so that was a few months ago when he lost a lot of income. They also want me to go look for him and give him some of the child support money. And this is something that I would do, for real.

But he had sent me an email. He said he doesn’t need help with money, he wants to be only friends and nothing else, and he doesn’t want to hang with me outside work. (That loophole irritates me. We’re not working together anymore, so it’s no longer applicable to say ‘outside work.’ The first thing ‘they’ think of is that I could still be allowed to meet him while he’s at his job. I know what he really means – he means ‘out in the real world’ or ‘in person.’ But ‘they’ are looking at the loophole.) But he said, he’s not ignoring me, and he *does* want to be friends with me.

That’s why I had to get out of facebook. I don’t want to be online-only ‘facebook friends.’ Also, I was checking the page several times a day, while I was at McDonald’s, to see if I got any emails from Carrie or from him, or to see what they’re doing, or to see any new photos. Every day there was some kind of drama – I was bugging Carrie too much, too many emails, always waiting for a reply from her – and actually *getting* replies, too – and I know she can’t waste all her time emailing me about something she has no control over. She can’t force Curtis to acknowledge any kind of real-world connection with me. She can talk to me *about* him, but that’s all.

I actually do feel better in a way, after getting out of facebook. I had one of those incidents, which might have been a coincidence or a puppet incident, but it was appropriate. I went to the library to shut down the facebook account because I have a browser problem at home and the page wouldn’t work (it’s on my to-do list). When I left the library and got in my car, the radio was playing ‘Tonight’s Gonna Be A Good Night.’ I’ve been starving for music for several years, and all my music comes from the radio and the SpamZak at work, so I have to like whatever songs are available. And I like that song. It was the right song to be playing when I was having a rebellion to save my life. A rebellion for my survival. I’m not going to do the facebook drama addiction anymore.

I have to not care whether he lives or dies. But they always get me. They tell me that he is at great risk. He has car accidents, he drinks and drives, he uses drugs, he doesn’t wear a seat belt, he doesn’t care about his life, he tries signing up for the army. He writes these comments on facebook about how we should live as though we might die tomorrow.

I used to feel that way in college. I liked reading the … who are they? William Wordsworth and those people. The people who used cocaine. It wasn’t the Romantics, was it? the writers in that time period. The…. Song of Myself, and – they had this manic high about the possibilities of life. I liked those writers. I felt that my life was – I did random silly things, I was extremely hyperactive, I took risks, I did wild things. I had adventures. I went swimming in the Shenandoah River at college. I went outside in the rain and got totally soaked. I suggested that my friends and I throw glass bottles to smash them on the side of the bridge because one of my friends was mad about something and we wanted a way to express it. I drew pictures, big paintings full of color, screaming with pain and energy – I have a favorite one, I still have it, it’s in storage. I took long walks, miles and miles, so that it was hard to get back home. I went driving to unfamiliar cities in my car, at random for no reason.

I had this desperate mania. It was hyperactive energy, but there was no strength, no solidness, backing it up. I couldn’t do my schoolwork. I could only pass tests if I was lucky enough to remember it, or if it was a class that I liked. I wasn’t able to focus enough to do all my work and get goals accomplished. The desperate mania was a desire to express all my energy, but there was nothing to create new money, new resources, new learning – I couldn’t sit down and achieve my goals. I couldn’t finish anything. (There were two things in my adulthood that helped with that. Actually three things. 1. Feingold Diet. 2. Coffee, caffeine. 3. St. John’s Wort. I don’t want to take SJW because it changes my personality too much, and it makes me a puppet, and it has other side effects.)

Every time they tell me how much at risk he is, I get convinced again that it would be okay to do whatever I want, to go find him at his job and give money to him, to not care about what he says to me in email. In the real world, he was always – well, he *acted like* he was glad to get notes from me, and the small money gift that I did give him – he always responded to them in the real world.

It was text messaging that started destroying our trust. We had this wonderful feeling of perfect trust when we stood next to each other and talked. I loved that feeling. Sometimes I messed it up because of my drug-induced mood swings – I always wanted to explain to him that the trust was still there, but my moods were changing, and to please put up with me in spite of it. But when I started text messaging him, and when I got the email from him on MySpace, that was what made me unable to trust him anymore. There were a few things going wrong in the text messages and it got worse over time. Sometimes he would say a little thing which was probably not intended to hurt, but it hurt very badly. He hardly ever answered, but every once in a while, we would have an actual text message conversation, and we only ever had a few.

Also, I had this inhibition. I couldn’t touch him. I wanted to touch him so badly. Sometimes he acted like he wanted me to touch him, and was disappointed when I didn’t – in fact, I saw that several times.

When they tell me that he could die, I agree with them. He almost died in a car accident. He wasn’t wearing his seat belt. The air bag stopped him from going through the windshield. He hurt his neck and his back, and I still wonder if it still hurts him – it was hurting him for a long time afterwards. It might hurt for the rest of his life. I hope not. I hope he heals. Every time it rains, when the weather changes, my skiing injuries start hurting again, and I got those from my college manic hyper time period when I decided to go down the ‘intermediate’ hill instead of the ‘beginner’ hill at my skiing lessons.

So in a way, I don’t care what he says in email. But I do. If he dies, then I will, indeed, say, ‘Yes, I wish I had ignored those damn emails and just given him money to help him out.’ That is the truth.

I don’t know how I would approach him. I know where he’s working because he decided to announce it on facebook, at the same time that I was begging him and Carrie to block me from seeing their page, and they were refusing to block me, and I told Carrie *NOT* to tell me where he was working – and what does he do, he announces it on his page while I’m still addicted to looking at his page every five seconds to see what new things he’s put on there. So I knew right away where he was working. I was trying *NOT* to find out where he was working because I knew that there would be the temptation to go there, and I knew that this would be one of those puppet things –

About being a puppet, about being forced to do things. There has to be some small bit of agreement, of consent, to make me do something. If I’m not on drugs, that is. If someone is on the right drugs, they’ll do anything you force them to do. But if you’re on very low levels of drugs, or not on any drugs at all, then the ‘suggestions’ that they give you have to be agreeable to you. And I am saying ‘yes’ to giving money to him, and also, I am *kind of* saying ‘yes’ to going to the place where he works, although he didn’t give me explicit permission to do that. I sent him an email telling him to tell me not to go there. As usual, he didn’t respond. And the ‘outside work’ loophole is still there. It’s not okay to hang with him ‘outside work.’ Okay, that means inside work is fine!

How would I approach him? I don’t know. It would be terrifying. I was thinking of it, and planning, and I know that I would need perfectly clean new clothes and shoes without any drug residues on them. If I had any residues on my clothing, then it would make my feelings too intense. The adrenaline would make my heart pound too hard. The fear would be uncontrollable. That is what the drug residues do. It’s the fear of being rejected. That he would have an unpleasant look on his face. That he would have fear, dread, a ‘burdened’ look, the ‘oh no, what now?’ look when he saw me. Some new problem I have to deal with. Something I dread. It’s Nicole with all of her usual drama. Also, I couldn’t go to him if other people were standing around him.

‘They’ suggested doing something funny like throwing a piece of fruit at him – assuming he’s in the produce department. It was one of those images, those fantasies, where it’s supposed to be funny and cute and playful, but I don’t think I could do that in reality. The produce department might not even be where he is. If he’s not in that department, he could be in the back room someplace, the unloading dock or something, for all I know, and if he’s back there, there’s no way I can go back there to see him. I have no idea what department he works in. And I didn’t think of that till now. That’s going to be frustrating, not knowing which store he’s at and which department he’s in.

I’ve known people who I was always nice to, just because I was on drugs that made me be nice to everybody. But it didn’t mean I was sexually attracted to them. That’s how I interpret his behavior towards me. And why does that matter – because the particular *ways* that I want to touch him go beyond friendship. Even just holding someone’s hand is more than friendship. Or, it can be.

I should just post this and get it out there.

At least I can’t addictively look on facebook every five seconds now. I’m trying to break the habit. Whatever is going on in his life, I can’t know about it. I keep thinking of it and getting the urge to do it. I can easily create a new fake profile and look at him whenever I want to, and I have to resist the urge to do that. He didn’t make his page private. At least I assume he didn’t – I haven’t tested. That was something I begged both of them to do.

I am a grief survivor

September 29, 2010

I’m thinking of that because I just recently read someone else’s blog about losing a loved one. I am a grief survivor too. I’m going through all the same things, such as not caring about my job and feeling meaningless and pointless like nothing matters there anymore.

I wonder how it would have been if the murderers hadn’t tried forcing me to try to actually have a relationship with him. If I had only talked to him at work, if I had never been forced to steal his cell phone number off the wall in the backroom to try texting him and getting ignored for months – actually a lot of times he didn’t ignore me, he just wrote “who is this?” every time I texted him because he never kept my number in his address book. It was a new cell phone that I used for texting because my old one couldn’t, and it wasn’t one of the two numbers that I gave him.

I should never have been forced to try going after him. Never. I knew from the beginning exactly what would happen. But I am wondering, would I still hurt as badly, would I still be grieving as badly, if I hadn’t tried, and then if he left like this without warning, and if I wasn’t looking at him on facebook – would it still hurt as badly? If the murderers weren’t forcing me to obsess about him, would I still be missing him as badly?

I know that I would feel the loss at work. Every day that I show up and he’s not there, it’s an empty, hopeless day. All of the faces I see aren’t him, and I have to pretend to be nice to those faces, even though I don’t care about them. They want me to laugh and smile, and all I can think is, “you aren’t him.”

My Twirps

September 29, 2010

I think I will probably chirp my dates so that people know where I am at all times, for safety. … Aww, I just noticed that for my image, it shows that I’m only an egg! I haven’t even hatched yet. That is so true.

I am Silent Soul because my true self is quiet, underneath all the electronic attacks, under all the voices and whispers, the thoughts, the rehearsed conversations, the songs stuck in my head, the belief systems – under all of that, I am a silent watcher who feels my feelings quietly without words. That’s also why I called myself Inner_Silence on PlentyOfFish.

I’m going to write more rules, or change the way they’re worded, over time and with experience. There will be things that never occurred to me, or problems that I see happening over time, that need to be fixed with rules.

I’m ready to start dating

September 29, 2010

All hope is gone. It’s time for me to start dating. It will be easier if I’m not looking at him. I don’t want to see them when they announce that they’re getting married. I don’t want to see any of it. I have to stop caring whether he lives or dies.

i want

September 28, 2010

9:52 PM 9/28/10

I want to know people who see me as so special and so irreplaceable, so unique, that they notice when I am gone. They say that I made a difference, that I was somebody important. That the world will never be the same without me. Whatever Curtis is, he’s not that. He doesn’t care about not seeing me – it doesn’t matter to him if he sees me or not. It doesn’t matter to him what I do or where I go. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me, but he doesn’t see my value as a human being. He thinks that I’m somebody he can just ignore, and that being friends with me is nothing. That’s why I am not looking at them anymore – I’m seeing him as a dangerous liar instead of a good person. Like he wants to cause pain and suffering for the people who love him. I think that’s how Kayla sees him, too, but she isn’t able to leave him, because she has his son, and they will always be connected because of that, and he’s paying her child support. I don’t want to see him that way. I want to see him as a good person. But he keeps ignoring me and I can’t see someone as a good person if they ignore me and disrespect my wishes when I ask them to block me from seeing their page. They didn’t seem to believe me when I said I would be writing emails to people like Kayla and causing problems. They didn’t take me seriously. I am trying to stop that from happening.


September 28, 2010

8:54 PM 9/28/10

I didn’t go to the bookstore today. Peter needed me to take him on a bunch of errands, and while we were out I started my period and by the time I got home I was cramping so badly I had to take ibuprofen and go to sleep. I don’t usually miss my routine trip to Barnes & Noble. It was intended to give people a chance to find me if they had no other way to contact me. The only other time I missed it was when there was a snowstorm.

I’m watching Inkheart. I rented it at Lyken’s. Brendan Frazer, or however you spell his name, seems to act like a type Nine.

This lady said books ‘love anyone who opens them.’ I understand that. The book never rejects you. It doesn’t tell you that you’re not good enough to read it. It doesn’t tell you that the characters would never like you and would never be your friends in real life.

This ‘type Nine’ adventure fantasy reminds me of the other movie I saw a while back, Stardust. It’s a ‘not really scary’ fantasy movie. The ‘bad guys’ are sort of wimpy and silly. They’re almost lovable.


I deleted my facebook account so that I wouldn’t be talking to Kayla and Curtis and Carrie anymore. None of them would block me. Carrie said that Kayla got upset after I emailed her. She thinks that I am actually giving Curtis money, but actually, that isn’t happening. I gave C&C my other email address. I just won’t see them on facebook. It’s best if I don’t know what’s going on in his life so that I won’t get upset and try to get involved.

I don’t really want to use Facebook anyway. I’m not using it for *real* social networking.

I don’t know of any social networking sites where it’s easy to search for people based on their interests. Like ‘anarchism’ or whatever. All the social networking sites are full of clutter, like myspace, where people fill their pages with so much junk that the page won’t load. (When I very briefly saw Curtis’s page, I liked it, he had a beautiful background with trees silhouetted against the sunset sky and a crow – from what I remember. He had soft pornographic pictures and videos – I never saw the whole thing because I’m on dialup and I always had to stop it from loading.)

I like plentyoffish because it’s a basic html site with no clutter, but it isn’t really a ‘social networking site’ and you still can’t easily search for people’s interests. You can, kind of, but it’s hard to do. And people aren’t encouraged to write their interests much.

I had to stop looking at Curtis’s pictures when he won’t see me in real life.

I’m not really ‘using’ facebook anyway. ‘Using’ the site would mean, actually social networking and using it to inform people about important things that I’m doing. I can’t even use it to look for local libertarians. Instead, I get puppet words for my status updates.

went to the library and deleted my facebook account

September 27, 2010

I had to go to the library to do it, because my home computer browser has some problems and needs to be reinstalled, and I haven’t had the time or energy to do it (especially since I’m not using St. John’s Wort anymore, and sjw always made it easier to do projects).  I couldn’t get it to work on my browser at home.

I had another friend who deleted his facebook account, so I already knew that it wasn’t easy to do.  I reread his email.  Whenever you try to shut down your facebook account, it ‘deactivates’ it, but everything still exists, and it just sits there, and you can log back in anytime you want.  I didn’t want that – I wanted it permanently shut down.  I will still be tempted to start up a new fake account to look at Curtis and Carrie’s page, because they aren’t respecting my wishes and making their pages private.  I will have to delete the app from my iPod.  It was McDonald’s Curtis who installed that app for me.  I’m not sure I know how to delete an app.  It makes me angry that they don’t care about my request for them to block me or make their pages private.  I told them that this was a serious problem for me, and they’re not taking me seriously.  I have to be unable to see what’s going on in his life.

waking up

September 27, 2010

7:48 AM 9/27/10

They woke me up thinking of Curtis. There are a few things they were saying. 1. Josiah. 2. the puppet words. I forget what other things. I’m not awake yet. 3. how many people have I actually had sex with.

About Josiah: he was one of the people who I never, ever, ever touched. It was unthinkable to touch him, unthinkable to give him my phone number or try to start up a relationship of any kind except as co-workers. I loved him from afar.

Puppet words: You’ve never read my writing when I was free. I am a puppet. The murderers put words in my mouth, they tell lies, they say things that are intended to hurt people and cause terrible damage with very little effort. I am constantly, 24 hours a day, being forced and controlled, and every word that I say or write is controlled by them. If any of my words have ever hurt you, it was probably because of the murderers. You have never known the real me, and you never will, until the day that I am protected by some kind of shield. Then, and only then, can anybody know the real me.

Sex: I’ve had sex with Eric and Peter. The end. When I was a teenager, I tried having sex with my boyfriend Terry a couple of times, but we didn’t really know how to do it, and it was uncomfortable and we had to stop. I didn’t know about things like ‘lubrication’ back then. That information would have helped a lot. That was when I was a virgin and we would have had to practice for a while until it wasn’t painful, and we didn’t have a safe place to be together since we both still lived with our families. So I didn’t *really* have sex with Terry. We sort of tried, and we quit.

I have been an antisocial hermit who has loved people from afar and never told them, for years and years and years. That is why it is always unusual when the voices force me to actually *try* to develop a real-world relationship with someone I love. I always love them and I know that it is impossible and they will never return my love or have any kind of relationship with me at all.


To survive, I am going to have to shut down my facebook account. I didn’t really want to use facebook anyway in the first place. Back when I got on facebook, it was because I wanted to see Martin’s facebook page. Martin was the first young guy that the murderers forced me to try to have a relationship with. Curtis was the second. Both were obviously a disaster: nothing but pain and suffering and hundreds of emails being ignored. (The real-world workplace relationship with Curtis was wonderful. But it is impossible to have anything beyond a co-worker relationship. Now we are ex-co-workers.)

Imagine people who aren’t puppets. These people have real dignity and self-respect. They tell the truth. When they speak, they say things in a simple, direct way that is easy to understand, because their speech isn’t full of garbage interfering with the truth.

So as I said I will probably shut down facebook as a way to protect myself against reacting to everything going on in his life. When I look at him with Carrie, with his friends, I am sure that I’m not wanted at all. I don’t exist. I will never be part of his life *at all*. But I will get upset every time they have a fight, every time Curtis talks about death, every time he loses a job, every time he runs out of money, every time he signs up for the army, every time he and Carrie break up and get back together. The murderers will always keep trying to make me believe that he has *any* use for me at all. I am nothing to him.

They’re refusing to block me and refusing to make their pages private. There is only one way to make it impossible for me to see a facebook page, and that is, for me to *not have* a facebook account. And since I am not a hacker myself, I won’t be able to break into people’s computers and see everything on them. So if I can’t see facebook, I can’t see anything at all.

What did he say to me in email: Very little. But he did actually answer, a little bit. He said three things: 1. he only wants to be friends, 2. he doesn’t want to hang out with me ‘outside work,’ and that was a confusing way to say it, because we’re not working together anymore, but back when we were working together I was asking him to see me ‘away from work’, in other words, out in the world, or at home, or meet him somewhere, and 3. he doesn’t need any help with money. But he insisted that he *wanted* to be my friend. That is meaningless to me: wanting to be a facebook friend is nothing at all. If someone is a friend, but they never speak to each other, and they don’t do anything together, then they’re not friends. They’re online friends maybe, but that’s not the kind of friend I want.

When I kept insisting that he must block me from being able to see his facebook page, he told me that I was nuts. When he said that, I felt this rush of feeling – I would have said “I love you too.” But I didn’t say that. I said, yes, you’re right, I’m nuts, I’ve been trying to tell you that.

(Right now the murderers started playing Lady Gaga singing “I don’t wanna be friends…. I don’t wanna be friends” from Bad Romance. They often compare me to Lady Gaga. She is very short, and I think they said 5’2″ is her real height without those shoes she wears – that’s the same as my height. She’s similar to me in some ways: short, small, has a nice body with an ugly face. I always describe myself that way when I am meeting guys online or in chatrooms, I say ‘nice body, ugly face.’ I have a crooked eye, and a big, long face, which is one of the reasons why I love the Weston Price book and how he studied what causes facial deformities. It’s like the solution to ugliness. We can prevent ugliness from happening if we follow these rules. Anyway people always think Lady Gaga is a man dressed in drag, because of the horrible makeup and the horrible wigs she wears. The murderers, the voices, are always telling me that people think I’m a man because I let my whiskers grow. That angers me – their ignorance – that millions of men don’t know that female mustaches even exist. I hate, *hate* this culture we live in.)

(That wasn’t the song they were playing when they woke me up. They woke me up with ‘hope it gives you hell.’ At least I like that song. Sometimes they play songs I hate and they won’t stop playing them. I consider myself lucky if they wake me up by playing a song that I like. There is no such thing as a song getting stuck in your head. If a song is *ever* playing in your head, it is an electronic attack.)

I am going to try to go back to sleep.

Hanging in there

September 26, 2010

Taking a break and sitting down after mcd. When I look at c’s pictures I feel this heavy weight on me, my whole body saying “no, I can’t do this, I’m not needed, I’m not welcome here.” they (voices/murderers/whoever) want me to give money to him. And I would do it if I could, but I am closed out of their life, and he won’t answer direct questions. I can’t get them to block me, or rather haven’t yet.

every moment

September 26, 2010

2:34 PM 9/26/10

Today I’m at home blogging about work instead of working. I’ll be going to McDonald’s, but I couldn’t bring myself to go to Weis this morning. I might lose my job there. On Saturday, when I went in and Sam asked me if I wanted to go home, and I said yes, I told her, ‘This is making a long story really, really short, but someone I care about was threatening to hurt himself.’ I explained this as part of what’s been going on the last couple weeks.

It’s been harder and harder for me to go to work there. First, without Curtis there, I have nothing to look forward to. Then, we’ve lost lots of people in the deli, and one of our managers was moved to another store, and we got a new manager. This new manager is as bad as a manager I worked with at the Nittany Mall McDonald’s. She is a sweet, nice person – I can see her as a human being – but as a manager, she’s a lunatic.

I am afraid to cross her path. I am afraid to be seen by her. Anytime she even *SEES* me, she immediately tells me to quit doing whatever I’m doing, and do some other random, trivial thing instead. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. It doesn’t matter if I’m doing something that she herself told me to do five minutes ago. Nothing matters. If she sees me, she tells me to do something random and insane. And the thing is, I like her. I really do. But I can’t work with her as my manager. She is as bad as Linda who I worked with at McD. Linda did the same thing. Drop what you’re doing, and come over here and do this instead. You can’t even work on the same project for five minutes before she changes what you’re doing to something else.

An example. We had piles and piles and piles of cardboard. SOMEBODY has to take it out. Also, the trash wasn’t being taken out either. It was all piling up in the back room of the deli. Somebody had to take it out, but nobody was doing it. I had a few minutes left before I had to leave. I wanted to do the type of project where it wouldn’t matter if I had to leave before it was finished. Garbage was the perfect project to do. I could do *some* of it, and every little bit would help. So I started taking out the cardboard.

But I wasn’t careful enough to avoid being seen. I started pulling the cart full of cardboard out the door and she walked in and saw me. ‘No, don’t take the cardboard out now! We can get somebody else to do that. I want you to make hoagies.’ I had like 20 minutes left, no time to get into a big hoagie-making project. ‘How many?’ I said. ‘I want you to make four hoagies.’ I went over to the hoagie table and saw that somebody had already starting making four hoagies, and left them abandoned there. I asked Nancy if she did them. ‘No, they’re not mine,’ Nancy said. I looked at them and said, ‘We don’t have any peppered ham.’ But then I realized, we did have peppered ham, but not Capicola. Okay, so I need to go slice Capicola ham, in the twenty minutes before I leave, so I can finish four hoagies. The manager was opening the cooler doors and looking to see if we had any other hoagie meats sliced. We didn’t. There was a tiny bit left in each container, not enough. If I went up to the front and started slicing meats in the twenty minutes before leaving, she would tell me, ‘Nicole, help this customer,’ because I would be up at the front of the deli (the busiest place) slicing meats, where the customers could see me. So I would end up slicing meats for the customers, because I was up there, instead of slicing meats for hoagies. That is the type of insanity that I am doing, every day. I can’t do ANYTHING without being dragged away to do something else. … So I quietly went back to my cardboard cart and finished pulling it out the door and back to the baler.

Today when I got up, I had that exhausted feeling again. If Curtis was at work, I would have been like, “oh well, I’m exhausted, but I have something to look forward to.” So I might have tried to go in. I cherished every moment that I spent with him. But I couldn’t look forward to seeing him. And I knew there would be the insanity of being dragged from one random task to another. And maybe I really did have a cold, too, because there was a cold sore inside my lip, and I really did feel exhausted and painful.

There was this despair of not caring that much whether I lost my job or not. I would lose some familiar faces. I don’t like to be separated from familiar faces in my social environment. I’ve tried so hard not to lose my jobs anymore. McDonald’s is the job I love the most, and I’ve been working for them since 2005, with a period of about a year when I was fired, and then I went back, but went to a different store. That’s the job that feels most like ‘me.’ It fits me the best. (It used to be much, much better back in the days when the stores were owned by a private franchise owner. Also, it just so happens that I am now working at the crappiest store in town – all the other stores are much better. But I still love this job in spite of all that.)

But I don’t really enjoy the work I do at Weis. It’s not the right type of work for a chaos-loving SP Artisan personality type. (It’s the wrong kind of chaos.) Not only that, but there are a lot of things that just don’t work right. It’s hard to explain. We never have anything we need. We never have our supplies. We never have the tools we need. Every time I want to make anything, I never know whether I’ll have meats sliced or not, and I never know if I’ll have all the ingredients I need to make salads, or anything. Broken equipment sits there for MONTHS and doesn’t get fixed. And the store does crazy things like, for instance, they got rid of this big cooler in the front of the deli – it was a bunch of refrigerated shelves where the deli meats used to sit – and they told us that they got rid of it because it was ‘an eyesore’ to the customers – but in reality, ‘the voices’ told me they probably sold it for cash because the business is mostly bankrupt, and I think that’s probably the truth. Since that refrigerated shelf was taken away, we’ve had to run to the back every time we need to get a new piece of meat to slice. It makes it hard to serve the customers when you’re always running to the back room for things. And we have no room in that back room cooler anymore because all the meats are back there now, so it’s a mess. And the new manager rearranged everything, but the rearrangement was pointless and made everything harder to find, not easier.

A lot of the ‘familiar faces’ are gone from there anyway. There are people who I recognize, and sometimes, I don’t even remember their names, because I never talk to them. But I know their faces. Some of them are long-timers who’ve been there for many years, people who were there when I started in 2007. (I can’t believe that’s when I started there. Three years.) But even some of those people are gone. And the other people have a high rate of turnover – they’re ALWAYS changing faces. People come in and stay for a couple of weeks, then leave. (Or people like Curtis stay for a year and a few months and then get ripped away from me – I’ve been describing the way I feel lately as ‘having my heart ripped out of my chest.’)

I’m going to *TRY* to talk to the store manager and negotiate something because of all my calling off sick incidents lately. I’ve told them I’m having problems and I told them I don’t want to quit my job completely, I just want to drastically cut back my hours. This was supposed to be the first week of having fewer hours, but I couldn’t make it, it didn’t come soon enough. I couldn’t wait three weeks or however long it was. I started cutting my own hours before it was official, because I just couldn’t make it.

(Someone I love was threatening to hurt himself. I told that to Sam, and that was the truth. I told her, that was making a long story really, really short, but it was the truth. It’s not the whole story – I didn’t tell her that I loved someone who worked in another department, and you know who this person was, and now that he’s gone, I don’t care about going to work. And you might not understand how I love him, or how much I love him, or what I would do for him, or what I would give to him, and you might not understand why I think that ‘signing up for the army’ is the same as ‘making a suicide threat,’ and you might not take it seriously if I told you that this threat made me not care about anything but that, so that I could hardly even care about showing up for work.)


So, this is more about Curtis. I was with him for over a year, a little less than a year and a half. I’m not sure exactly when he started, but it was early in the summer of 2009. Maybe May or June of 2009? So, he left in late August or early September 2010 – I don’t have the exact date of the last time I saw him. I suppose I could piece it together if I looked at the dates on my frantic emails to his girlfriend. That was a little over a year, a year and a few months. During that time he was all that I looked forward to. I was thinking to myself that he made my life worth living for over a year. That would be worth, like, thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars, if I put a dollar value on it. I can’t pay it back all at once. Deeply indebted and grateful. I enjoyed almost every moment that I spent near him, even though there were a few painful moments. Every moment that he was nearby, when I could look up and see him, when I could see that he was there across the room, even if I couldn’t go talk to him or be close to him. Every moment of every conversation we had. Every time I touched him or he touched me. Every time I looked in his eyes. I don’t want that to end. I can’t stop loving him.

Dear Script Kiddie

September 26, 2010

Dear Script Kiddie, or, Dear Accidental Glitch, or, To Whom It May Concern:

Put them back. There is some important stuff in there that I don’t want to lose.

The “block me” battle

September 25, 2010

I wondered about blocking Curtis so it’s harder for me to see him, but that could only work if it’s hard to find the “block” setting on the mobile site. And I can still go to the full site anyway on my iPod even if it were only on the full site. They’re not blocking me yet. I will have to deal with this later when I have time off work. Curtis told me that I was nuts, and that was his answer when I kept telling him he had to block me from seeing his page. I told him yes, I’m nuts. Actually, that’s the whole point. I’m nuts! They’re still not getting it. Carrie says Kayla is freaking out and not letting him see Caden. He must still be thinking he deserves this, or something…. I have to punch ot, it’s 11:00.

what happened with curtis the last few days

September 25, 2010

1:26 PM 9/25/10

(By the way, I’m at home on a Saturday, because when I walked into Weis, this morning, 25 minutes late without giving them a phone call, Sam saw me and she asked me right away if I wanted to go home. I was walking around with my shoulders hunched and my head down looking like I was going to be crying all morning long.)

So, something happened with Curtis. Curtis has been threatening to go into the army. First it was the Marines, but he said they wouldn’t take him because of his tattoos. So then he was trying to get into the army.

Of course, since he started saying that, I have been a ‘basket case,’ or a double or triple basket case. I have been panicking and frantic for days, sending him emails, trying to change his mind, not knowing whether he receives my emails or not. I’ve been offering money to him, and sent another email to his ex-girlfriend Kayla offering money to her too. I take ‘going to the army’ as a suicide threat, so I was frantic to stop him before it happened.

In addition to that, I’m still having some drug residue outbreaks, and I’ve been working 72 hours a week and I can’t clean anything up. So I go around all day with tachycardia, and things like that – I felt it, and I actually went over to the blood pressure tester thing, at the pharmacy at Weis, and verified that my heart rate was 105 while I was at work. So I can’t control the things that I do, the things that I say, and the things that I feel – I have even less control than usual.

All day yesterday I was freaking out, sending him emails, and he probably hasn’t even read the emails yet, because he doesn’t check his email very often, and he doesn’t get on the internet every day. I’m guessing he hasn’t read a single one of all the emails I sent him yesterday, merely because he doesn’t get online very often. I was desperately beggging him not to join the army.

I found out about this because of his facebook page. Carrie made him make a friend request, just to be nice to me. I know it wasn’t his idea. He did it to please Carrie, because Carrie is the center of the universe. He didn’t do it to be nice to Nicole. Nicole doesn’t matter, and being nice to Nicole doesn’t matter, and there’s nothing to gain by being nice to Nicole, because Nicole doesn’t exist, and her knowledge and her beliefs and her money and everything else about her is worthless and useless and not worth bothering with and there’s nothing to gain by being friends with her. The end. So Carrie told him to do it, and he did it for Carrie, NOT for me.

Anyway, I’ve continued reading his page, which I was doing all along anyway, before the friend request. (The ‘friend request’ is also known as ‘the empty gesture.’) He started talking about joining the army, and I’ve been frantic ever since. And Carrie said he only has to do a few things before the army will take him, but she didn’t say what.

He has a mainstream belief system. And I am *not* an important source of approval to him. He doesn’t care what I think, he doesn’t value what I think, he doesn’t care whether I approve of him or not. So I can write him a hundred emails telling him that the army is suicide and he must never, ever go there, and it makes no difference, because my beliefs don’t matter to him. Only Carrie, and his family, and his *other* friends, all of those mainstream people – only *their* opinions matter to him. And they all say the army is wonderful. And the government is our friend.

At the end of the day yesterday, after getting slammed at McDonald’s all evening long, after ‘getting our asses handed to us’ for hours and hours, I finally had a five minute period without any orders and I was able to go online and check facebook. Carrie sent me a message saying, good news, Curtis got a job, and I won’t tell you where it is unless you want me to tell you.

I sent a reply immediately saying *DON’T* tell me where he’s working. I MUST NOT see him in person, because I will have an extremely strong reaction to seeing him. The voices were being sympathetic about this, to me, later on, saying that it’s ‘my program’ that makes me suppress feelings, block feelings. The more intense the feelings are, the more I block them, because I’m programmed that way. If I saw him in person, I would want to grab him and tear him to pieces and beat the shit out of him and not let go of him. I would want to scream and cry and shout at him. I would want to kiss him, hug him, make love with him (and ‘make love’ isn’t the word that I would use), talk to him, spend hours and hours with him. I would have a strong, violent reaction if I saw him. So I told her *not* to tell me where he’s working now. It’s best if I don’t go see him where he works. I could go see him someplace, but probably not at his workplace.

And I know myself – I would block the urges to do all those things, and you wouldn’t see much on the surface. I would talk to him in a normal way, but I might start crying – crying is likely to happen. I can’t control crying.

So after days and days of thinking he’s committing suicide and going into the army and going to hell and destroying his whole life, all of a sudden she tells me he got a job. I assume she means a normal job, and not the army. I told her I thought the army was suicide.

I responded by telling her ‘block me.’ And I sent the message to Curtis, too – ‘block me.’ And to Kayla – ‘block me.’ I don’t want to see this anymore. Block me, block my other fake nicknames, make your pages private. Facebook is only place where I can see anything at all that’s going on in his life. He doesn’t have a lot of other web pages, and he doesn’t write blogs, none that I know of anyway. If he did, I don’t know where they are. Facebook is the only thing I see. So they can block facebook and I will be completely blocked out of his life. I’d give Carrie my email address, but emailing isn’t the same as facebook – we can use ordinary email and I don’t have to see her facebook page. I will work on this on Monday or Tuesday when I’m off, convincing Carrie to block me from facebook. It’s not the same as cutting me off completely. She acts like an enneagram Nine. She wants to be nice to everybody, even the crazy, delusional, mentally unstable, threatening stalker who wants to fuck her husband.

I can’t make him change his mind. If he threatened ‘suicide’ (the army) in the past, he’ll do it again in the future. He’s already done it twice. His belief system will always be different from mine, because all of his friends, family, and fiance are mainstreamers.

Not only that, but I will always be reminded: Carrie is the center of the universe. He doesn’t answer emails. He won’t call me. He doesn’t send snail mail to the address I gave him. He never acknowledged anything I wrote in the paper notes that I gave to him by hand, in person.

Even THE VOICES were showing me that Carrie is the center of the universe, when he first started dating her. They said, ‘Her? Her? Her?’ and showed him turning his head to look for her. It was one of those bizarre image/voice hallucinations that they give me. Is that her? Is that her? Is that her? Looking and looking in the crowd to find Carrie. Carrie is all that matters. No one else matters.

He doesn’t even think my *friendship* matters. He has no time for me at all.

So I am telling them to block me. It will hurt forever – I know this because I saw Josiah and Anna in the drive-thru at McD a few weeks ago, and I almost burst into tears at the sight of Josiah. I loved Joe. I loved him a lot. I haven’t seen him in years. I trained him at McDonald’s. I’m the one who taught him everything he knows. Well, I’m not the ONLY one who trained him, but I’m one of the people who did. I’m telling Curtis and Carrie to block me, and I know it will always hurt me when I see Curtis in the future, and that will last forever. I will never forget him completely. I will think about other things, I will meet other people, but I will never completely forget him.

I am asking them to block me from seeing him now, because it hurts too much to see the things he’s doing and saying, and because the voices are lying to me about him, insisting that he really does read the things I write, that he really does care what I think, that he saw or overheard the ‘spot of tea’ conversation – I KNOW he *DID NOT*, but the voices keep insisting and insisting and insisting he did, and I can’t make them shut the fuck up about it. *HE* *DID* ****NOT**** overhear that conversation. HE IS A PUPPET. They are FORCING him to talk about a ‘spot of tea’ on his facebook page. IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH *ME*. He is being forced. The end. I don’t want to see this false belief ever again. I am sick and tired of this false belief. CURTIS *DID NOT* OVERHEAR THAT CONVERSATION. And I *know* there will be *more* incidents in the future of them forcing Curtis to talk about things that I’ve been doing or saying, when in fact he knows nothing about it at all, and he’s only a puppet. That is another reason I have to block him. I tried, and I tried, and I tried, to tell him about me and my voices, about the delusional ideas they give me, about the lies that they tell me. He never thought it was *important* enough to try to straighten out all the lies they told me. The voices will always try to convince me that I’m important to him, that he cares about me, that he sees what I’m doing, that he’s paying attention to me, that he knows I exist, that he cares. That is why I have to block him, because that is not true. Carrie is the center of the universe. I, Nicole, am NOTHING. I am an ex-acquaintance. I am an ex-familiar-face. I’m somebody he used to work with. I’m NOT EVEN A *FRIEND*. I am NOTHING.

Oh, and another thing happened. I wrote about Ragnar Danneskjold giving the bar of gold to Hank Rearden. I was thinking of that quote for weeks because I was trying to ‘stalk’ Curtis so that I could give money to him. I stalked him in a dark alley to give him a bar of gold. That’s what I was thinking of. So I finally looked up that quote and wrote it on facebook.

That night, after I posted that, somebody was outside of my window making noises. They made owl hoots and some other kind of bird noises. It was somebody out on the street. I don’t know if they were looking for *me*, or looking for somebody else who lives in this apartment building. It could have been anybody who lives in this apartment building. They were standing in the street making owl hoot noises to get somebody to answer them from the window. I was asleep and I woke up. My window was open a little bit, so I could hear the noises. I didn’t go outside. But I opened the window and whispered loudly, ‘WHO IS THAT?’ I got no answer, and I might not have whispered loudly enough, or they might have walked away by then. But I didn’t go outside, because I’m not going out in the middle of the night to get kidnapped by a serial killer.

After I laid back down to go to sleep, I was attacked with electronic attacks and voices for a long time afterwards.

That’s all for now, I think.

things i can’t get from curtis

September 25, 2010

these are things i need from curtis that he won’t give me. i tried, and tried, and tried, to get some of these things, like reality checks. asking questions, never getting any answers to them. writing notes on paper so i wouldn’t worry about hackers intercepting the letters. STILL never getting an answer. reality checks, so that i don’t develop crazy, wrong, delusional ideas that get out of control and grow bigger and damage the relationship. hurts and injuries that build up over time HAVE to be talked about and fixed, or the beliefs continue to grow (look your 35 ok, it creeps me out, i’m single and i plan on staying that way for a while like a year or 2) – that led to me always believing, forever, that i disgust him, that i can’t look at him, that he doesn’t want to look at me, that i’m ugly, and so on.

1. reality checks – i have to ask questions about the crazy ideas to find out if they’re true. are you, or are you not, reading my facebook page? do you read the things i write? when you said X, was it about something I said? the voices always play tricks and tell lies. they control people like puppets. they make it seem like curtis knows what i’m writing, knows what i was saying in a conversation at mcdonalds. the latest lie that they are telling, the false belief they are trying to create, is that curtis knows that eddie and i were joking about ‘having a spot of tea’ in a british accent when we were at mcdonald’s. in reality, curtis has no idea that i was doing that. he wasn’t spying on me, he wasn’t hacking the text messages of other mcdonald’s employees who might have been talking about me, he didn’t hear something from somebody about me joking around with eddie about a spot of tea. curtis DOESN’T KNOW that i was doing that. but the voices want to make me believe that he KNOWS that i was doing that.

they are telling me that it actually means marijuana, which i didn’t know – with me, it was an innocent joke. now i know. but they want to make me believe that CURTIS knows i was joking with eddie about that, as though he was spying on me during that conversation, or heard it from somebody, or hacked somebody’s text messages if they commented about me. the voices are insisting that he himself saw or heard me having that conversation. and i know that is a lie. curtis is a puppet. he is being forced by an external controller to keep saying ‘spot of tea’ until i figure out what it means. i found out what it meant because he said ‘smoke a spot of tea’ in a later comment. but THEY want me to believe that HE KNOWS i was saying that with eddie. so i require constant reality checks in my relationships, because of the voices, the murderers, the evil delusional ideas that they force you to believe. they force me to believe curtis is a hacker, when actually, he can barely read, can’t spell, doesn’t spend any time on the internet, and has to be dragged kicking and screaming to read ANYTHING – and they want me to believe he reads everything i write and sees everything i do on my computer.

so i desperately wrote notes to curtis – paper notes – trying to make him understand how *important* it is to give me reality checks. i hear voices! i’m crazy! the voices lie to me! they make me believe crazy things! they make me *do* crazy things! i have to ask you questions to find out if the crazy ideas are right or wrong! but he never understood the life-or-death importance of doing this with me. it *HAS* to be done. it is absolutely essential for having a relationship with me. it is the bread and butter of the relationship. it is the center of the relationship. reality checks. i have to always ask, ‘is this real, or not? is this true, or not?’ i have to ask questions and get answers to them.

2. acknowledge things i wrote in the paper notes. i’ve written him things in the notes and he never answered them, never spoke of them. they were on paper. he received them. the notes didn’t get hacked or intercepted. he just never answered anything, never spoke of anything, never felt that it was *important* and that it absolutely *had* to be answered and talked about.

3. we need the same belief system: the military is wrong, bad, deadly – don’t ever, ever go there, no matter how bad things are in your life. threatening to go into the army is a suicide threat. curtis threatened to go to the army in the past. it wasn’t just this time. there was another time when he talked about it in the past. so he has mentioned it twice now. the belief system is still there. all his friends and family believe it. his sources of approval believe it. the sources of his approval are all mainstream. carrie believes it. they think the army is good, safe, honorable, healthy, a good solution for somebody with personal problems, a good way to straighten out your life and get back on track. i’d rather see him become a born-again christian, to be perfectly honest, instead of going to the army. i think it’s less harmful and less dangerous to become a born-again christian to get your life back on track, than it is to use the army to get your life back on track. if he walks around telling people that jesus christ died for our sins, and you have to believe that jesus christ is your savior so you can get into heaven, i’d rather see him doing that, instead of telling stories about the army.

4. remembering what i’ve forgotten – that isn’t about curtis, that’s just another idea about why we fall in love. you might have been hurt, but somebody makes you remember that you were hurt long ago, and that you believed something that wasn’t true, because you got hurt. because of that person, you remember it. and you question the belief, and change your mind about it, and prove it’s wrong. but you forgot that you ever believed that thing, until somebody else reminded you of it. they could see it, but you couldn’t. that is part of love. when somebody else *sees* you and looks at you, and *wants* to look at you, and *enjoys* looking at you, and is curious about you. they *want* to understand you. they *like* trying to understand you. you’re that wonderful, you’re that special, you’re that important to them.

Not long now

September 22, 2010

I’m getting the feeling when I read his and carrie’s facebook pages that I don’t care anymore, at least that’s how I feel tonight. I see his face and I don’t start crying. I have a bunch of photos of him. I can usually look at them and start crying. Tonight I saw his pictures on his facebook page and I felt a numbness. It’s still a sad numbness. Distant. Carrie made him befriend me on facebook as a gesture, I’m sure – it wasn’t his own idea. He is doing it to be nice to her, not me. She’s dealing with her sister who feels rejected because she’s giving Curtis more priority than the sister. She is tired of being nice to me and everyone, an enneagram nine peacemaker for sure. I am certain she’s a nine. Curtis is probably a three. She’s handed me over to him so she can focus on her sister. I am a total stranger with delusions of myself actually mattering to Curtis., of actually playing an important role in his life, of being useful to him. They are forcing him to say things to make it sound like he reads my facebook page when in fact he doesn’t. He doesn’t want me to participate. He doesn’t see any use in being nice to me, except if it pleases Carrie. Carrie made him befriend me as a gesture, but it’s an empty gesture. Friends in the real world is what I’ve been asking for. Maybe then I will block him instead.. He won’t care. Ha ha. Enneagram threes disintegrate to nine under stress. That means he gives up and stops trying and says everything is hopeless, and he will do nothing at all, even when hope still exists and he has a real chance of success if he does something differently than what he’s doing. He gave up all hope. He won’t listen to me offering him money. And an email claiming to be from him, saying “no one is hacking my email,” still can’t prove to me that no one is hacking his email… But with he way I feel tonight, numb, I might not even care if his email is hacked. I gave him lots of chances to write back. He got paper notes. He got my physical address. He can do those things if his emails can’t get through. I wasn’t able to work in drive thru tonight and didn’t even have a chance to see Kayla or email her. I was so busy I couldn’t even pick up my iPod once tonight. I had thought of emailing Kayla and talking a little more to her.

Curtis is hopeless right now, but if I give the money to Kayla, it will stir things up, not necessarily in a good way. His mood says, “just leave me alone and let me die, there is no hope.” it would stir things up, but it would probably be a stressful conflict instead of a productive one. And Carrie is the only person in the world who exists for him right now. I don’t exist – as much as the puppeteers will put words in his mouth to make it seem like he reads my page when he doesn’t. Leave me alone and let me die, he says, not in so many words but in his actions. He can’t even see me or know I exist. He doesn’t see me as a source of hope. He doesn’t trust me to really keep giving money for a long time. My parents helped me but I still always wanted to rely on myself to earn money. It was self reliance that gave me hope. The money kept me alive and kept me from having extremely stressful experiences like being evicted and having no place to live, and that kind of thing. Realistically, I could reduce the stress between him and Kayla, but not do much more than that. They just want me to keep him out of the military. He doesn’t listen to anything I say, he doesn’t read it, he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know I exist.

If I can let him die and not care that he dies, then I will be able to ignore him and do nothing as he enlists in the military. His one hope is actually a lie, a trap, a trick, the most evil false hope that ever existed. If I don’t see him in person then it will be easier to forget that he has a real physical body that will die. I’m already forgetting his physical body, how it felt to be close to him.


September 22, 2010

This is the last week that I’ll be working this hard. Wow, typing on my iPod touch is so much faster Than typing on my phone with buttons to push. I’ve gotten really good at it. I thought I’d never be good at thumb typing.

So I got an email from Curtis finally and he said he didn’t need my help and he could pay his child support himself. The voices told me to try to pay Kayla anyway. I don’t know if I’ll see her. This is one of those things where I am doing what ‘they’ tell me because it agrees with my own intuition. I wrote back to him and said, I’m not helping you, I’m paying you to be my friend. I said I wanted to see him once a week. I didn’t check my mail yet for a reply, but then he made a friend request on facebook. Carrie had said , I hope you get everything you want for your birthday. It sounded ominous, and then I saw the friend request. I think she had convinced him to do it. I’m not sure if it was an acceptance of my paying to be his friend. This is where I’m following voices/intuition and going and doing it anyway. I’m not sure I’ll have the gall to do it if I see Kayla, because it’s always a surprise and I won’t have time to prepare. They don’t know me. Last time I saw her she turned her face away as she sat in the passenger seat as though she was hiding her feelings.

If I don’t have the gall, this will be very difficult for me. I can’t give anything directly to him. It has to be given to Kayla.