Archive for April, 2017

Prediction: False negatives on test, can’t get antibiotic for STI, drug companies maximize profits

April 30, 2017

The other free clinic gave me a false negative on gonorrhea and chlamydia. This clinic didn’t say what they were testing for, so I don’t know if they were including a test for trichomoniasis.

I’ve decided that medical tests are yet another tool used by the cabal to destroy humanity. No joke. They design fake tests that don’t work, then convince everyone everywhere that these tests are the best, most reliable tests on earth. Then, people with actual diseases are getting false negatives, and are forced to buy all sorts of different drugs which are the wrong thing, which earns profits for the pharmaceutical companies, because nobody can diagnose what is actually wrong with them when they place all of their faith in fake tests and none of their faith in observations.

THIS IS DELIBERATE. Its goal – to make profits for the companies and to maximize human suffering and death at the same time – the depopulation program. Brainwash all doctors to believe in nothing but tests – tests are the final word – then rig all the tests to give the wrong results and false negatives for everything, no matter what the test is for. The result is profit, profit, profit, profit. Desperate people get one test after another trying to figure out what is wrong, and the test results all produce meaningless gibberish that everyone is trying to read and interpret, but unable to find any meaning in. It would be simple and straightforward to treat an infection with an antibiotic, but no, I have to do a huge runaround and maximize profits during all the chaos, while we pretend not to know that I obviously caught an STD from a member of an ethnic group who is known to be at higher risk of having STDs – it actually comes out and says so on the web pages that talk about this. I have to try one drug after another, one fake test after another, all of which will be false negative, when all I need is just one or two specific antibiotics for my specific STDs.

Am I going to have to break down and order illegal antibiotics online at my own risk?

Still waiting

April 30, 2017

My beer belly is less bad than it was. I weighed 152 pounds with all my clothes, shoes, and stuff in my pockets, here at the doctor. I think my beer belly might be shrinking because I’m eating raw vegetables. I’m eating leafy greens and raw mushrooms and stuff. I’m also drinking lots of whole milk, so I’m curious what I would weigh on a lower fat diet, because in spite of all my love for Weston Price, I have observed that eating fat causes me to get fat.


I just finished at the urgent care clinic. I didn’t get a prescription for antibiotics able to treat an STI, but they did give me a prescription for a UTI, which I do not have. Now we must wait for TEST RESULTS WHICH WILL BE FALSE NEGATIVE before I can get something for an STI. They took a swab of vaginal fluid.

I will have to find some other place to get the particular antibiotics I need for an STI if they keep refusing to give them to me based on false negative test results. I could try the other urgent care clinic too. I’m not like some kind of junkie who is using antibiotics recreationally.

Test results are ALWAYS FALSE NEGATIVE. That is an assumption that I make from square one. If anything depends on a test, then nothing will get done because the test will always say nothing is wrong.

I made it to the urgent care clinic

April 30, 2017

The people at the other clinic recommended the urgent care place. I have made it here and am now waiting for someone.

Meanwhile, my roommate Anjier called me and asked if I was at home, because she left her keys in the office at school – on the one rare occasion when I am actually not home and stuck on an errand that I have to complete. Although it’s lucky it didn’t happen while I was at work. But I feel like the bad guy for not rushing home to open the door, but this is important. I’m not moving till this is done. I can explain to her where I was. I told her I would be stuck someplace for maybe two hours. I wonder if this is a mind control incident, but if it was, it was a pretty frail attempt to divert me. She’ll be stuck wandering somewhere for a while but she will survive.

It’s hard to explain why I can’t go seeking a new love to replace Matthew. I am being bombarded with mind control every day that reminds me of him, but even without that, I still don’t like to look for boyfriends. I can’t use craigslist to search for ENFPs because the murdering morons control craigslist, and I know this because of what they did to me when I wrote an ad that mentioned how you don’t need to vaccinate pets for rabies over and over – they dropped off a rabid animal at my apartment and made Max fight with it, which gave me rabies by inhalation after I touched him, and I developed all the symptoms of rabies and had to get the vaccine. Those are the people who control craigslist. The person wrote a threatening letter saying "I’d love to come over to play with the cats and the pussy."

I found a medicaid card, and will try to go to the doctor today

April 30, 2017

Unless ‘hell or high water,’ or the apocalypse, or some strange accident happens, I will get over to the doctor’s office today, the urgent care clinic thing that the other clinic recommended, to get tested and try to get antibiotics. I had to dig through a big bag of papers, and was thinking this would take all afternoon, but instead I found the medicaid card after pulling out like four or five pieces of paper. It was right there on top.

I can only try. I do not know if these unreliable tests will be able to diagnose what is infecting me. The other clinic’s tests both came back negative for gonorrhea and chlamydia, which means either that their tests don’t work, or I have some other infection like
trichomoniasis, which they cannot test for at that other clinic, but supposedly they can at the urgent care clinic.

I’m expecting ALL tests to come back negative – I know from experience that stupid people put all their faith in these tests that don’t even work, then they stubbornly insist that nothing is wrong with you, because their test told them so, when I can clearly and obviously see and feel that SOMETHING IS WRONG, and it’s an infection, and I got it from that unpleasant person who I reluctantly had sex with against my own preferences.

It is an infection. If it has no test, it is still an infection. If the tests are unreliable, it’s still an infection. I don’t know what to expect from these doctors at the urgent care clinic. I know from experience that tests for anything at all always come back negative, no matter how sick you really are, because THE TESTS DO NOT WORK. THE TESTS DO NOT WORK. I can scream it in all caps a hundred times. The tests do not work. They keep using them and insisting that they must work because somebody somewhere said they worked, but they absolutely do not work, and I don’t expect them to work. They give millions of false negatives. Then the doctors tell you that you’re a
hypochondriac who’s imagining it all, instead of realizing that the tests are all wrong.

I have to take a bus to get there. I should find out when the bus runs so I don’t go sit out at the bus stop for half an hour.

I don’t know what to expect… I hate doctors…. I hate medicine…. I hate things that don’t work but are extremely expensive…. I hate people telling me I’m just a hypochondriac imagining my symptoms. However, I hate this infection more than those things, so I will try to go get it cured.

If I keep trying over and over to cure this, and it doesn’t work, I’m going to have to start using some toxic natural medicine, and I don’t want to do that. Believe it or not, the herbs and things are sometimes more toxic than antibiotics. I know sandalwood supposedly treats gonorrhea, but I don’t know if it cures it permanently. I know I’m sensitive to all medicinal herbs and that I will react badly to a high dosage of anything, and a high dose would be needed to cure an STD.

I will try. I hate this, but I will try.

a dream of another Matthew who wasn’t Matthew

April 30, 2017

I’m still sleeping in. I didn’t go to any church at all, though I wanted to try to go to the UU down the street. I just couldn’t get up. Whatever is giving me this horrible fatigue must be fixed. The new pants might have chemicals on them – they are starched and all stiff, so they need washed. My ‘healthy food’ that I bought recently might be toxic and goitrogenic – I have some fresh foods that might be killing my thyroid, although I don’t have kale. I have some sprouts which could be killing my thyroid or poisoning me in some other way, or the watercress could be doing it, or the fresh rosemary. Something ‘healthy’ that I’m eating is often the cause of severe fatigue – vegetables are poisonous, not defenseless, and they can totally destroy your energy levels. Kale is a super-poison. I would even argue that kale makes you fat, but I don’t have enough evidence for that.

I felt somebody interacting with me, with regard to Matthew, as I was lying in bed. They wondered if I was going to his church – obviously, not at all.

There was a time I forgot to mention, when Matthew was helping me move stuff. He went downstairs and sat outside in the little area with the stairs and the bikes, on the edge of the wall. When I got there and saw him I started automatically walking towards him with the intention of putting my arm around him, as he was at a perfect height sitting down, but he jumped up and moved away as soon as I began to approach. That was a real event.

In the dream, there was a larger Matthew, not the skinny Matthew, and we were in the woods, and he was wearing all these colorful fabrics and scarves draped all over him, and jewelry. I was on his lap, straddling him and just snuggling him that way, and we were sitting up, with our clothes on. I saw purple birds in his scarves, and flocks of purple birds flying in the skies, and I said that the purple birds were making me tired. I thought that might refer to the ‘purple martin’ thing I had, the nickname for Martin, when the Martin incident occurred many years ago. Martin was simply crazy – I have no explanation for him and no idea what type he was, but he was definitely not compatible with me. He also caused a horrible and long-lasting trauma, while I was being forced to try to contact him. I was under the influence of a lot more drug residues back then.

When I was lying in bed I had to say to myself over and over again that Matthew was gone and he would never speak to me again and I would never see him again. He’s going home and will be with Hannah again, and whatever is going on with her will be fixed, or even if it isn’t, he will find some other beautiful young girl and marry her, because no one ever rejects a skinny young male ENFP with a college degree and long hair.

I believe that milk withdrawal is contributing to my sadness, and no, I’m not joking, I’m really serious. Drinking milk is addictive. I can understand why people need to drink milk when they are in a subsistence farming situation. I would prefer to be in a subsistence hunting situation instead, where there would be meat, but no domesticated animals. That, I believe, is healthier. In the real world I will probably have domesticated animals on a farm in the future, and it will be a compromise. I can buy a couple goats and a few chickens and live off them for the rest of my life without ever having to buy food again.

However, right now, it’s possible for me to completely stop drinking milk, and eat meat, but I will have to find meat that contains vitamin D and other vitamins, instead of this useless zero-vitamin
factory-farm meat at the store. I need organ meats – brains, kidneys, not just livers – liver is the only thing you can find at the grocery store, and I tried the bone marrow once and it made me extremely sick, although I did fine when I ate the organic lamb’s bone marrow from Wegmans.

I haven’t eaten anything yet except some skittles. I got skittles because I need a substitute for coffee, and I allow myself to buy junk food and candy if it helps me avoid coffee. In the long run I don’t want fake candies either, or sugar. But I am not as anti-sugar as a lot of people are.

I know not to be fooled by the imaginary ghost attacks pretending to be Matthew – that nothing I do or say, in writing or in photos, will ever bring the real Matthew back to me ever again, and I will never see him again as long as I live. I swear, if this trauma keeps coming back every single day, I am going to have to do something to get rid of it, and I really suspect that ‘milk sadness’ is causing it. I haven’t had any milk yet this morning.

Oh – the fire spinner omen is explained now!

April 29, 2017

Remember the fire spinner I saw in the woods on a night when I was moving out my belongings? Or at least I think that’s what I was doing, or else I was just about to later on. I was in the woods, and I heard glass bottles clanking. I had a bunch of bags of garbage that I had put near one entrance to the path, and a bag of laundry also. Yes, that’s what I was doing, garbage and laundry. I left them there, and then walked down the path into the woods in the dark.

When I heard the bottles clanking, I looked behind me nervously, thinking that somebody might be messing with my stuff, with the garbage and laundry bags, if they were throwing bottles into the trash can right beside where I put it. It was odd to have someone else in the woods in the dark at that hour, but not unthinkable – sometimes people go there to smoke weed in the middle of the night, or drink.

So I was going down the path and I heard bottles clanking again, on a different path nearby. I bent down to pick up a stick on the ground, and the voices urged me to, so that I would feel safe carrying a stick. I snapped the stick to make it sharp. When I looked up from doing this, suddenly before me in the woods, on the next path over, in the dark, was a fire dancer. They seemed to have the fire on the ends of strings that they were spinning. It was moving fast enough that I don’t think it was just a stick, but spinning strings with something burning on the end. I wonder how the mind controllers got this person to rationalize his reason for going into the woods and doing this, other than maybe he felt he needed to be away from everyone so he wouldn’t get in trouble while practicing his art?

But in the woods, alone, in the dark, this was an absolutely terrifying vision. It was a terrifying, supernatural thing, and the first thing I thought of was Pennywise the clown, from the book IT by Stephen King. I stood there, frozen, just staring at it, wondering if he knew I was there, wondering if he did this deliberately to scare me. I thought he knew. I thought he was deliberately showing off for me, to terrify me, and then he was going to chase me down and kill me, and I thought he was increasing the dramatic tension beforehand by doing this huge demonstration of fire.

I just stood there frozen, watching this, and then I began to walk away, slowly, not running, up the path. I kept looking behind me, almost thinking that the spinning fire was going to suddenly float through the woods and chase after me, but it didn’t, it stayed in one place.

Then the voice said, ‘People who play with fire are not nice people.’

I already knew about that from Lemony Snicket’s books, ‘A Series of Unfortunate Events,’ which is basically a huge disclosure about pedophilia, stalking, and criminal gangs. The entire book series is pretty much literal truth, but with some things added to make it fanciful and imaginative. The volunteer fire department turns out to be the source of the criminal gangs, and I believe this is based on real life. The firefighters who used to come in as a group to eat at Gino’s Pizza, when I was in West Virginia, were TOTAL FUCKING ASSHOLES, and all the waitresses hated them. The crazy guy who wouldn’t let me stop talking to him at the rest stop when I was going to West Virginia in January was also a firefighter, and a fire-setter. The people who fight the fires also set the fires.

So I knew that already. But this gigantic, dramatic omen which was given to me by the mind controllers, this huge display of fire, and this warning that people who play with fire are not nice people, was a warning about Matthew. I didn’t know it related to Matthew at the time. I didn’t know Matthew was anyone significant, and I didn’t know I was going to be horribly traumatized by him yet. I also wonder if the firefighters are somehow involved in torturing Hannah, making her go crazy. Something is missing from the Hannah story, the girl Matthew loves.

The extreme drama of this omen was meant to reflect just how extreme the trauma was going to be when I was blocked by Matthew. The only reason I am recovering from the trauma is because I quit caffeine. If I were still using caffeine, I would be totally unable to recover from this trauma. The omen only made sense in hindsight, and could not be understood at the time when it occurred.

I do like fire spinners when I see them on youtube, and in
demonstrations in real life. I just don’t like them practicing on a nearby path when I’m alone in the woods in the dark of night.

I want to try again to go to the doctor tomorrow

April 29, 2017

I was so exhausted today, all I could do was lie around in bed. I watched a movie online (Insidious 3). I’m off work again tomorrow. If I am not so dead exhausted, maybe I will be able to get up and go to the doctor and try again to get antibiotics. It wasn’t a good time because I was on my period, but that is fading away now. They have to take a sample from the vaginal fluids. That’s what I did at the clinic. I don’t know if that’s possible while I’m on my period.

I haven’t found the paperwork for my medicaid stuff yet, but I know it’s in one particular bag where I put all the different papers I could find, together. I could also try just paying the fee up front but I don’t know how much that’s gonna cost. One of the places has the up front fee, but I don’t know if there are additional fees. The only reason I could even think of doing that is because Dad gave me the money that he’s been giving me every month. I’m getting this extra income.

Getting money from my father every month, just to help with expenses, and then possibly getting an unknown amount, in an unknown way, from Mom in the future – I should not be able to complain about anything, except this fatigue making it so hard to get out of bed. I need to go through all the belongings and get rid of whatever is moldy – it’s putting mold into the air in my room. That is one theory of why I’m so tired.

Also, I bought all these men’s pants at the thrift store, four pairs of big fat men’s pants. I started to pick up a pair of women’s pants to try them on, then saw that they had shallow pockets and I had an INSTANT NUCLEAR EXPLOSION OF ABSOLUTE HATRED FOR WOMEN’S CLOTHING, so I put them back down on the shelf and went immediately over to the men’s section. I cannot shop when I am extremely angry. I hate shopping for clothes. I was supposed to start sewing, and swimming, as soon as I started living here, but that hasn’t happened. All I do is work and sleep.

So, I have four huge pairs of men’s pants. They will shrink when I wash them. The problem is, they are made for a man’s body, and now I am very embarrassed because they have a huge baggy crotch, so, seriously, I look like I am walking around with a boner. People are going to be even more confused than usual about whether I am a man or a woman. (Just because I don’t shave my whiskers, some people are confused.) So I have four pairs of old man boner pants that have to be shrunk, but I’m too tired to go wash them.

I don’t even like using the word ‘boner’ because that’s the word Art used at work – Art is a guy with asthma who uses some kind of breathing apparatus and it has steroids in it, and I think the steroids might be the reason why he’s so crazy. Art mentioned to another coworker that one of the customers had a boner, which was obviously visible and impossible not to notice. When I use that word, I hear Art’s voice in my head now.

I just watched ‘Insidious 3’ and it has ‘the man who can’t breathe’ as the evil demon. That just became Art.

I really, really, really need to try again to go to the doctor tomorrow. I hope, I hope, I hope I can do it somehow, somehow, somehow. It needs to get done. I’ve just been so tired and can’t get up early enough to do it before work. I have so few ‘spoons’ from my chronic fatigue.

I’m sitting with Jacob outside typing on my phone

April 29, 2017

I really have much less psychological trauma when I’m off caffeine. It’s relatively easy to forget Matthew when I’m like this. I have a lot of fatigue still, and my stuff is all wet and moldy in all the bags in my room, and that might be making me more tired. The caffeine gives me this feeling that I need something, a person. I can’t say which neurotransmitter it is, but it’s completely different now. I can’t remember how it felt to be in love with Matthew and enjoying his company. It only lasted a few days before he blocked me. The caffeine pills made me write long, obsessive, inconsolable messages. He would’ve continued to be my friend if I hadn’t been using caffeine. However, I couldn’t get up out of bed to move my belongings. That was why I took the caffeine. Milk is another thing that I need to stop using. It’s addictive, and causes crying during withdrawal. I want to try a milk-free diet soon. I pay attention to which foods and drugs affect my moods so that I can have some control over my behavior, because if I didn’t control it at all, I would be on ten different drugs and living in a mental hospital right now. Anything I can do to stop feeling like I need Matthew is helpful. They gave me a dream last night. But I might run out of space in this text message, so I might continue this in part two. I’m still letting Jacob sit outside. He hasn’t been out for days. So the dream was of a guy who looked like Rob, a guy I briefly knew at McDonalds when I first began there. He was Chelsea’s boyfriend. He had big, beautiful eyes, and he looked at me through a crowd of people. I think Chelsea was ESTJ and he was INFJ. In the dream, I slept beside Rob, touching against him, the way my cat sleeps against me. The physical touch created serotonin (it should be oxytocin, but was serotonin in the dream), which was shown in a diagram. Matthew was on prozac, the dream explained, so his serotonin was abnormal and so he could not bond with people by touching them.

I think it’s my turn to be the hacker now

April 28, 2017

I did read a book many years ago, or rather skimmed it, a book called ‘Counterhacking,’ because I wanted to defend myself or at least understand what was happening. But I have so far shunned the very idea of hacking. I wouldn’t want to do it unless my own computer had its data backed up first. I don’t want to screw up the computer by installing something that turns out to be harmful – hackers are not to be trusted.

When you’re a hacker, and your purpose is to track someone you’ve fallen in love with, do you spiral down into this hell of loving someone from afar but never being able to tell them, because if you tell them, they will instantly reject you for having done this?

I have been hacked for decades now. That started in 2000 and I count it as the time when the trauma based mind control began. However, I have no knowledge from before that, and it could have been going on before then.

I always hated hackers, as soon as I started to understand what was happening. The things people did to my computer were designed to make me think it was being hacked by some particular person; however there is no way to be sure that it actually is that person, so I started to assume it was people who were lying for a reason. I made some assumptions about hackers: they are always going to be physically repulsive people who I would never be attracted to in real life, or who I already rejected in real life. I don’t have time to talk about the phenomenon of how you can’t control who you’re physically attracted to – I’m about to go to work.

Would I be able to have some kind of principles of self-restraint? Like, noninvasiveness? Noninteraction? Don’t try to ‘get their attention’ from afar, while simultaneously being inaccessible and anonymous? Don’t trick them into thinking you’re someone else, someone they love? Maybe I would figure out what the rules are as soon as I saw what was happening. What rules would I have for noninteraction? What kind of ‘reaching out’ is okay?

Somebody reached out to me and saved my life, and I don’t know who it was. Somebody put a link on a web page talking about radio frequency weapons, during a time when I was being mind controlled. Maybe it was the very same person who was also attacking me with those weapons, in which case it was not good, it was evil.

I don’t want to simultaneously do evil and do good. I will have to know always that if I am doing evil, hacking, then I will be blamed for every evil that happens, which is being done by other hackers. The people controlling my mind and hacking my computer – they are not all one single person, and yet, the very best of them, the nicest and kindest ones, are lumped together with the most evil and most horrible ones, simply because they are all ‘hackers’ or ‘mind controllers.’ I need to be prepared to be on the receiving end of that. If someone can’t see you, if someone can’t see who you are, if they don’t know who is doing what, then you might get blamed for the evil things someone else does.

still decaffeinated; got some new pants finally; using up the leftover food

April 27, 2017

I went through a stage of building up food in the fridge, when I first got here. Now I am gradually using it up. I turned up the fridge to 3, and a few things actually got icy, so there may have been a reason why she turned it to a warmer temperature, but it was too warm – it was like 42 when I tested it with a thermometer. It was warm enough that milk would spoil in a single day, basically.

Today I ate some sausage that my roommate gave me. Anjier. I must practice her name. Anjier gave me sausage because she doesn’t really like to eat pork, although she does eat fish and seafood. She got the sausage along with a package of other foods that were delivered, if I recall. I ate the sausage chopped into pieces, boiled in water, with the last kimchi on the side, and froze the other two pieces of sausage.

I have this blueberry milk thing that I make – as long as I’m drinking milk, which probably won’t be forever. I need some other source of vitamin D besides the fake vitamin D in milk. I really want to test the thing I read about, which was that all foods will produce vitamin D if you put them in the sun.

Anyway, I’m mixing frozen wild blueberries with whole organic milk and adding the ‘raw’ brown sugar, which is in big crystals. The blueberries freeze the milk into something that looks like a smoothie. I’m using this kind of thing as a substitute for the luxury of drinking coffee.

I was able to go shopping and get some new pants, FINALLY. I have been wearing the same pair of pants for weeks. I do have another brown pair, but they are contaminated with St. John’s Wort and will affect my behavior. It wouldn’t matter so much if I had not recently been destroyed by losing Matthew; however, anything that affects my behavior now will cause me to do stupid things to try to find him, or try to text him.

I have this level of energy now which comes from quitting caffeine. It is a low, moderate energy level, where I can get done just a few things per day. I am actually more productive when I am off caffeine than when I am on, but when I’m on it, I do a lot more reading and writing and fooling around on the internet. When I’m off it, I do stuff in the real world, like cooking sausage for lunch. I am sleeping more, too. That is why I was able to buy canned cat food, buy new pants, and cook lunch all in one day. Normally that would be too many tasks to do.

continuing the Matthew memoir

April 26, 2017

9:10 PM 4/26/2017

I’m uncaffeinated today. The ‘a’ key is the most recent one to be having problems on my keyboard, so if you notice typos where a word is missing the ‘a,’ that is why.

My head is starting to hurt from caffeine withdrawal. I had only one cup of decaf yesterday, watered down a few times. The day before, I had about 1+3/4 cups (decaf), watered down over a few hours. So I am jumping from a relatively low level of caffeine, down to nothing, today.

I ate the rest of the garlicky salsa – tomatoes, and garlic, and onions, and probably all nightshade vegetables, trigger extremely intense caffeine cravings. But since I’m home from work today, it’s easier to go without coffee and just sleep all day, which is what I did, so I was able to ignore any cravings.

It’s kind of hard to think back on Matthew now. I’m still getting urges to try to write to him, but I assume he’s blocking my text messages. I wrote him one or two really long messages while taking caffeine pills – even though it was only one pill – and enough trauma came pouring out that he decided he was better off blocking me forever than listening to it.

I also still look for him when I’m at work. I look to see if he is coming across the street. But I’m pretty sure he’s just avoiding MM entirely – he doesn’t really *need* to go shopping there.

He was given forced urges to come see me, and to help me. I’m blaming the mind controllers for all that happened, although those mind controllers are always blaming me for being unable to control what I say. They’re like, ‘Well, you deserve to suffer, because you can’t stop yourself from saying things people don’t like to hear when you’re under the influence of mind-altering drugs.’ Let’s give you someone to fall in love with, then yank him away instantly after only a brief few days of bonding with him! You deserve it! Where are those forced urges NOW, mind controllers??? I’m doing fine now without caffeine, but he’s not getting any more forced urges to talk to me.

I left off the story on the night we were having a very long conversation. I might be mixing together a few different incidents – I don’t recall when he gave me the chocolate cereal, whether it was the long-talk night or some other night.

I was having a lot of trouble just standing up long enough to get through my shift, and was drinking espressos and ginseng-filled energy drinks. Ginseng causes me to behave very differently, and I tend to attract guys when I’m using it, who are suddenly bewildered when I stop using it and I stop flirting with them.

I think I described how we prayed together, over the counter at MM, me behind the counter and him on the customer side. We held hands, and holding hands while praying with him was a wonderful, sweet
experience, even though I’m not Christian and cannot completely ‘get into it’ even when I try to. I cannot tune in to the Christian frequency.

Although that’s not entirely true – I had a moment, after we started texting, when I kneeled down at the edge of the bed and texted Matthew about the fact that I had an infection, which was a difficult confession to make, and while I was kneeling, texting, and confessing, I felt a flowing sensation of energy flowing down from above me and through me, like I was supposed to be doing this. So, I *am* able to tune in to the ‘confession’ frequency if I am kneeling and if I am telling it to somebody who actually has a need to know, somebody I love, but probably not just any random priest.

That was actually a very extraordinary, interesting, strange, and wonderful feeling. It is too rare that I have bonding experiences with other humans – ever since I lost Rachael, I have found not a single human being I could talk to.

But he wasn’t able to tolerate more confessions after that – he barely could tolerate that one. His reaction, in text, was kind of resistant. He just kind of stiffly said ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,’ or something like that, and I said ‘Thanks for tolerating me,’ and he said ‘It’s not like that at all, I want to help you.’

I won’t just quote verbatim all our texts. I’ll paraphrase them.

He did not bond with me as strongly as I bonded with him, and wasn’t attracted to me as strongly as I was to him.

On the night of the prayer, he still stayed around for quite a while. I don’t remember if the prayer happened before or after this conversation. Matthew had been telling me his experiences of synchronicity, although that’s not what he called them. It was the will of God. Or the voice of God, or something. He did a
demonstration. A guy came in, a random customer, and Matthew started a conversation with him, asking him about his job. He was an Uber driver. The guy also mentioned Zipcars. I’ve heard of them – I only know that some people have tried to use the Zipcar card to fuel up at MM, and they can’t. It doesn’t seem to work there.

So, after that conversation, and after the guy left, Matthew pointed out to me that that was an example of something that was meant to happen. He suggested that that’s God telling us that’s the job I should try to do – be an Uber driver, using a Zipcar. He then offered to pay me for the first zipcar that I signed up for, because he wanted to help make a difference in my life. He always said, he was trying to help me.

I actually took this seriously and haven’t forgotten it. I intend to try looking into it. I’ve got to get a couple other things settled first.

I don’t know all the details of exactly what he did, but he told me that he had thought himself to be a terrible criminal who had done terrible things that were actually much worse than whatever he really did. He once helped create a fake image of a naked child, which a pedophile was going to look at, because he used to use Photoshop. He tried to describe how he made the image, where something was in front of the child so that it was covering it up (I think it was a girl, but I forget) and it gave an illusion of being naked when it wasn’t. He found out afterwards that this was being used by pedophiles and blamed himself for it, and was extremely upset around children afterwards.

I hesitated to tell about this, but I doubt Matthew or anyone who knows him will ever read my blog. Matthew is blocking me forever and will never see me again, I assume.

He said he locked himself in his room for two years and was almost suicidal. I asked him, then, when did he start taking Prozac, because I knew that inevitably Prozac was involved – I already knew he was taking it. He was sixteen when they gave him Prozac. In a text, I told him that terrible things happened if you quit suddenly or changed your dosages, and he said he already knew about it and had experienced that. But that was my interpretation for why he ‘went crazy’ like that, becoming suicidal. However, it’s not the entire explanation.

His girlfriend (the one who isn’t a girlfriend, who calls him just a friend, but also refuses to let go of him, making me very curious to hear HER side of the story), Hannah, calls him a pedophile when she is extremely hurt and wants to hurt him very badly.

He told me that one time, Hannah told him she wanted to go eat at a diner, but the local diner wasn’t really what she wanted. She wanted to go to some other diner which was in a faraway town. So they got in the car and started driving, and when they had been on the road a long time, she told him, ‘I actually would have been fine eating at the local diner. I just wanted to see if I could make you take me to this one,’ or something to that effect. He thought this incident was a crazy, funny memory – she’s crazy in a fun way.

I myself am not crazy in a fun way, not anymore. I’m crazy in an extremely negative, traumatized, dark, scary way.

He told me about the photoshop incident while helping me move some stuff out of my tent. That wasn’t on the prayer night.

I forget how we ended the prayer night. I only know that we exchanged text messages and began talking to each other that way, which was the beginning of an extremely brief, wonderful, blessed moment of my life, a tiny flash of light in the darkness, which quickly went out after only a few moments. I have gone so long without love, without true love, without someone who I felt able to talk to, and simultaneously physically attracted to.

I told him I was a nudist, and so a fake image of a naked child should not be a big deal. But I understand that it is. I told him that when he was helping me at the tent.

The prayer night ended badly for me at work – I was unable to finish all the stuff I had to do on time. I had to make all these breakfast sandwiches, but I didn’t for two reasons – I was so tired I could barely stand up, and, I was talking to Matthew, who stayed at the counter for a very long time in the night, and the entire universe ceased to exist because he was there with me.

It is so, so wrong that I do not get to experience this love more often.

Customers started coming in, and they were the construction workers, grumpy that the sandwiches were not entirely done at the time when they came in. I was almost done, but not quite. They didn’t have time to wait.

After that, I was taken off the overnight shift for quite a few days, and I suspect one of them might have complained about me. I should’ve been happy not to be on overnights, but actually it made me anxious – I’m failing at my job and am at risk of being fired. That’s how I feel.

So it was the next night that I hugged him. I saw him coming across the street just as I was walking out of work and crossing towards him. I was on ginseng. I ran over (checking for cars) and hugged him in the middle of the street, then stood there for a few seconds talking to him. He said, ‘Let’s move over here,’ or something, and I said, ‘Yeah, I don’t want us to get killed.’ We moved over to the little curb thing which is still in the middle of part of the street, but you’re able to stand there. Then I hugged him several more times, three or four more times during the conversation.

My enthusiastic, excited, happy hugs were not joyfully returned, they were tolerated. He allowed me to do it, but did not excitedly reciprocate. He had a moment of reserve where he seemed to step back, not literally stepping back, but somehow pulling away or hesitating. This was partly because he did not want to be disloyal to Hannah, but even if Hannah didn’t exist, he might still not have felt a desire to hug me.

I forget what we talked about on that night. I should look at the text message which failed to send when I ran out of texts – I had been trying to write a blog about it.

We decided at some point that he would help me move a few things out of the tent, and also that he would take me to church. It was just before Easter, so it was going to be the Easter church, which I hadn’t realized.

He told me he had found a place to park his car where it was cheaper, on the other side of town, so he had to walk a long way to get his car out whenever he used it. I don’t know where he lives.

It doesn’t matter – he’s leaving very, very soon, and will never speak to me again.

I’m also not going to meet anyone else like him for a very long time, and if I do, they won’t reciprocate my feelings.

Then I went on home. I forget when this was, but at some point he texted me asking me if I was walking home, and I said yes, or rather, I had ridden my bike home, to the tent. We had this intimacy and comfort. He can text me and ask where I am and if I got home. It was a brief, sweet moment in time.

It was on one of my two days off in a row. I somehow was lucky and got two days off, and had been going to go to WV to Mom’s memorial. However, I felt sick and stayed here. Matthew had said he was sick, too, I forgot about that. I told him I had decided not to go; he had texted me back ‘I’m sorry you couldn’t go. I’m sure she was a great woman,’ or something like that.

How did he pick me up? I told him I lived next to Weis Market, so we decided he would pick me up from Weis. I went over to Weis, and got some coffee, because I was still drinking coffee back then, and I said I was extremely tired, and I didn’t want to be a zombie. I got myself this coffee at Weis and maybe one or two little snacks. I sat out front. He finally texted me and told me he was there, in the parking lot, but I couldn’t see him.

I got up from where I was sitting, and walked around in front of Weis, looking for him, feeling self-conscious, thinking he could see me but I couldn’t see him. Then suddenly I saw him and was thrilled. I went over to his car and got in.

I wasn’t hugging him repeatedly now. That had only been the one time. After that, I had informed him that I had an infection, which made me feel extremely restrained around him, because I had told him something disgusting and shameful, which might even make him afraid he would catch it, even though we weren’t exchanging bodily fluids. He had prayed for me about it, but I know it must have still been something he was aware of.

I told him where to go, and so, we got out at Walnut Springs Park. We walked down the path. I had made a new entrance at an easier to reach place, so that I could carry lots of heavy bags out easily, and put them on a cart. I didn’t have the cart with me today.

We walked down there and I showed him where I had set a little stick to show me the entrance to my path. We went through the ‘door,’ and I apologized because the branches and stickers were smacking him after I walked through them, but he said, ‘That’s okay, you can’t control what the stickers are doing.’ It was clear after that, because I had deliberately made a ‘door’ out of stickers that you had to push through, then cleared everything out behind it, so it was hidden. Few people would push through the doorway to find the cleared-out path.

Isn’t he studying mechanical engineering or something like that? I forget exactly what he said his major was.

I brought him to the tent, apologizing that there would be poop and stuff around the area. I showed it to him and said that I had shown it to a couple former coworkers too – I like showing my tent to people, because I feel like people can’t possibly believe that I really am camping, even in the wintertime, unless I actually show them the tent. ‘I believed you,’ he said, but even so, I was still glad to show it to him.

So we got a few bags out, and he offered to carry them all himself. There were only a few things left. I had gotten ten huge bags out by myself on one of my days off, and taken them on the cart, which was why I was so tired.

He carried three large garbage bags himself, while I carried nothing, feeling like, I don’t know what, someone walking with a slave or something. I kept offering to carry one but he wouldn’t let me. He went through all the stickers with these bags, and brought them all the way down the long path.

Some people came walking down the path while we were walking out with him carrying these three bags. I mumbled, ‘This is why I don’t like doing this in the daytime.’ He said, ‘Don’t worry about it. We’re just pickin’ up garbage.’ As the girls walked by he said to them, ‘How ya doin?’ or something, and they answered fine, and went on.

I seriously hope he didn’t pull out his shoulder or something by carrying those bags, and that he won’t have some lifelong tendon injury because of me.

We had sat in the car at one point – when was it? Was this when we came back for a second run? and talked about the bible.

I think that was the second run. First, we took them to the apartment, and he met my roommate – only once, then she never saw him again and never will. They introduced themselves and he had to learn her name, which I can’t even remember as I’m sitting here trying to remember. What the heck is her dang-blasted name? Kernier or something. Something that ends with -ier or -air or something. Dang it.

Anjier. I had to look it up in my email.

So they shook hands. I told him to just set the bags down and I would get to them later, and we went back out.

We went back to the parking lot by the camp, and he was talking all about the bible, and looking it up on his phone and reading things to me. He read the parable of the seeds, where the seeds won’t grow if they are thrown in the wrong place, which is similar to how people respond to hearing the word of god (or disclosure, for that matter, or any idea that is different from what they believe or threatening to their belief systems). He was reading this, but I had this feeling of fatigue or tiredness, whether it came from myself or him I don’t know. I was listening to him, trying to understand, but no matter what, I just can’t get into the bible. I have heard most of these things before in bits and pieces and don’t find them useful.

I would listen to anything, just to be with him. He will always be frustrated because I’m not absorbing the bible and I’m not absorbing the word of God, and he doesn’t want me to merely be enjoying his company – that feels like a betrayal to him, like not being taken seriously. He needs someone who believes it along with him, not someone who is silently disagreeing with him.

I actually understand how this feels, because I have belief systems too, just not Christianity. I could talk about why I eat organic food, or about the Weston Price diet, or I could talk about how everyone is able to be mind-controlled if they aren’t inside a shield, which means, basically, everyone on the entire planet is able to be mind-controlled at all times. I can talk about those things, but they won’t matter to someone if they don’t already agree with them.

At some point, we got up, as it was getting dark, and we’re not supposed to stay in that parking lot at nighttime. So we went back to the tent, supposedly to look for more bags to carry out. But I really didn’t feel like getting any more stuff, and I explained that I couldn’t take out the sleeping bags just yet because Jacob was still in the tent and he needed to sleep on the blankets, and I would ‘cut to the bone’ if I took anything else out of the tent right now.

So we sat there in the growing darkness, and talked more, and that was when he told me about the photoshop incident. We didn’t touch each other. Finally he left, and while I offered to show him the way out, he went by himself, using his phone as a flashlight. His flash on the phone wasn’t able to stay on, and he tried to pray with me that it would stay on, but it didn’t – I know from experience that there is a connection between mind control and computer hacking, so actually, I don’t make fun of him for praying that something on the computer or phone will fix itself, because I’ve experienced hackers and mind reading and I know I’ve seen my computer getting hacked at the same time that some mental phenomenon is going on. It does happen, so I didn’t make fun of this at all. I went right along with it, but alas, they did not wish to give a demonstration to us at that time, so the phone light continued to keep going off, and he had to turn it back on again.

I said, ‘Maybe it just wasn’t important enough. It’s not really an emergency.’ I was able to see the path well enough and so could he, and no lives were at risk.

So he left, without touching me, without taking my hand, without hugging me, just having helped me move stuff out of my tent. I let him go.

We touched less and less over the next few days, and I still felt ‘contagious,’ which was the primary reason why I didn’t want to touch him – I figured he was repulsed by me. I had only hugged him that first day, and once a day after that – I had been sad and moody, and had texted him and told him I was just in a bad mood for no reason, and he had shown up at MM, but hadn’t seen me. I had been back in the kitchen area taking temperatures. I saw him as he was leaving the store, and I actually RAN OUT THE FRONT DOOR chasing him, yelling, ‘Matthew! Matthew!’

So I ran across our parking lot yelling ‘Matthew,’ and he somehow didn’t hear me, or ignored me, until he got to the corner, where he stopped and turned. I ran up to him and hugged him, and that was the last hug I ever gave him. I was just moody. I was probably in ginseng withdrawal or something, actually. I forget what he said. He told me he hadn’t seen me in there. I said I was just doing stupid paperwork, and it wasn’t anything important (my brain is screaming ‘NOTHING ELSE MATTERS BUT YOU’). I had literally run out the front door, in the middle of my shift at work, to go catch him. This was unthinkable behavior, totally out of character for me.

There was more after this. It was a day when I took a caffeine pill. I was suddenly alert enough to have a long conversation with him in text. I texted him all afternoon, asking him questions about what was happening with Hannah, and he was glad to tell me.

Then later, he showed up at MM after I got finished, and we sat down at this table near the MAC machine. He got a container of ice cream, and I went and got a plastic spoon for him. I did not get myself a plastic spoon, and I did not scoop out any ice cream, because I have reason to believe my saliva is contagious. Oh, if I had not been contagious, I would have done that very thing, if he had let me.

He ate his ice cream and talked. We sat at the table, and I could feel the electricity radiating from his legs, which tickled my legs. I moved my legs carefully out of the way so that they would not accidentally touch his. I kept them far away from his legs the whole time.

He had on a loose sweater, and was leaning back against his chair with one arm thrown back, so that the back of the chair was poking up through his sweater like a giant pointed boob. Did I laugh? Did I even smirk? Nope. I did not make even the slightest peep about this. I did not laugh, I did not smirk, I did not tell him that his sweater was making a giant boob because the pointed part of the chair back was poking through it in that position. I just tolerated that this kind of thing is going to constantly happen with him because of his personality type, which has a lack of awareness of physical things.

We talked for a while about Hannah.

How did I leave?

He found me on facebook. Maybe that was earlier. Maybe he had already found me. It was that day.

I looked at a few of her pictures by then. I said that her eyes were very far apart. He laughed and said yeah, they were, but he loved everything about her. I had only said that because I said I was having trouble figuring out which one she was, in the pictures, because it was always her with several other people.

I tried to understand why she was doing what she was doing. I sincerely want to know, even now. What is she doing to him, and why is she doing it?

He’s a firefighter. I never mentioned that. Do you think of an ENFP as a firefighter? I never would, but I learned something new. He had said, at his first fire, he was too scared to go in at first, because his equipment wasn’t on properly and he couldn’t get it to go on, and the other firefighter had been really angry at him afterwards for delaying, but I think he said he finally went in. I said, I had heard that firefighters sometimes complained that they were being pressured to go in to fires without any protection at all or without the proper equipment, and he said it wasn’t really like that, they were in fact required to wear this stuff.

I thought of that – I had forgotten – because he told me that Hannah had tried to crash a party for the firefighters. He was rejecting Hannah because she said she only wanted to be a friend, not a girlfriend, and he felt that was disrespectful to him, and I said it was arrogant, and I myself had had guy friends who I used to be arrogant towards when I was young. After he told her that he didn’t want to be her friend at all anymore, she started showing up at places trying to see him, and she tried to crash the firefighters banquet by going along with some other friend, but when the other friend found out, they didn’t let her.

This whole story seems suspicious to me – why is Hannah doing what she’s doing? Why would she bother stalking him to the banquet if she wasn’t attracted to him, in love with him, something? What is he doing to her, from her point of view? I am missing her entire half of the story – how does she describe what’s happening?

It actually all seems to resemble what he’s doing to me – blocking me, refusing to answer, all that. He hasn’t actually completely defriended me on facebook – he’s there, just a bookmark that does nothing – I cannot interact with him in any way on facebook.

I don’t remember how we left, that night. He finished his ice cream, which I could not share with him. I really wanted to. I really wished I could just let my knee hit his knee. How did I go home? Where did he go? We didn’t go together. I’m just trying to remember how we separated. Did I continue to sit there? I think that’s how it went. I stayed sitting, and he got up and left. I sat there for a little longer, just looking at Hannah’s page.

But that would be the same night that I went walking home, pushing my bike, crying my guts out, for hours. I cried until I almost vomited. I had to stop crying because I have a vomit phobia and I don’t vomit unless I absolutely have to. I walked my bike home slowly, talking to the voices the whole time. Why would I be on such a terrible, solitary mission? Why would Anaya not be able to help me? Why would I have such a burden, to do this mission by myself, for so long, without any help? This is what we talked about. I told the voices about how long I had been suffering and how horribly isolated I had been.

My emotions are drastically affected by the caffeine pills, and that was *part* of why I cried so much, but it was that, combined with 17 years of real trauma.

I had told him the caffeine pill was affecting me. It made me start to write him some very long messages, and I told him how I felt about him. I felt that I had to take another caffeine pill the next day to get Jacob out of the tent and over to the apartment, because everything was just impossible for me to do by myself, and continued to write him some very long messages, and he quickly blocked me that day. That day it was over. I have never seen him again.

It won’t ever make any difference to him that I’m quitting caffeine. He’s never going to see that I stop sending huge messages in that particular tone when I’m not on caffeine pills. I wanted to quit anyway, and have to quit for myself, and was going to.

Hannah – I still don’t know.

not enough time to write again. Jesse comes home; organic plants; salsa triggers coffee cravings

April 25, 2017

I was thinking of writing before work but I started listening to music instead. Jesse is flying home today. I don’t know exactly what time he will be here. I can’t have sex with him and probably shouldn’t kiss him on the mouth either, but I haven’t told him that. I already know it’s not going to go very well, but I’ve been detached from Jesse for so long that it won’t hurt too much. He’ll be here for a while seeing his family, but he wants to go someplace else. He’s not in the army anymore. We won’t be together very much.

I have no idea what to expect with my money inherited from Mom. So I kind of can’t make plans mentally for what I am going to do. I know the money needs to be protected, and it needs to be allocated. My family believes that buying organic food is a waste of money, so I am wasting money merely by eating; but I believe all food should be organic by law.

I have two avocado trees growing at the Youngs’ house. One was planted from a regular avocado seed, and the other from the seed of an organic avocado. Both are growing in the same soil. The one from the regular avocado seed had all these insect bites on the leaves, and it was taller. The one from the organic seed had no insect bites at all on the leaves, and it was shorter. Merely growing from THE SEED of an organic plant changes how it will grow forever. The seed itself is malformed somehow and destined to become a weaker plant if it comes from a conventional seed. I thought buying organic seeds was kind of pointless until I saw this. It was an unintentional test. It’s basically the same thing as Weston Price.

Organic plants don’t need pesticide if they are grown from organic seeds. But they will need pesticide if they are grown from
conventional seeds. (This is a hypothesis – it needs tested more.) All plants grown conventionally are weaker and sicker, but they may be taller, at the expense of good health and strength. It’s fake tallness triggered by one of those three minerals, nitrogen, potassium, and phosphorus, minerals chosen for the *appearance* that they create in the plants of bigness and greenness, a shallow appearance without any substance behind it.

It’s frustrating not having time to write. I’m not off caffeine yet. I have been drinking decaf at work, which puts me at risk of going back. Anything with tomatoes or garlic in it triggers an unbearable craving – I have to get rid of the salsa, sadly, even though I love the salsa. I really won’t be safe if I try to finish that container of it. It is extremely dangerous. I know from experience how powerful of a craving it triggers, and I forgot, and had some yesterday.

I’m exaggerating how bad the bike is

April 24, 2017

For a while, it felt like there was something rusted inside the steering column, and when I tried to turn it left and right, sometimes it was reluctant to turn, so it would only keep going straight. Now, however, it’s been better for a while, as though the rust got scraped off. It turns left and right now. It still needs to be looked at, but it feels almost like normal. I just pay attention to it to make sure it isn’t getting sticky again.

Today I started my period, or, at least, I started spotting, so I took ibuprofen. Ibuprofen does things to me, but without it, I would have to call off sick every time I started my period, which can only be done in an intentional community that values people’s health more than their strict obedience to their schedule. This time, however, I got generic ibuprofen from a store somewhere, Weis or some other grocery store, I forget where, so it won’t be as toxic as the name brand, and hopefully it won’t give me bloodshot eyes.

I had, like, four M&Ms today, and that’s all the caffeine I had so far. I will probably do a cup of decaf again.

Part one of the Matthew memories

April 24, 2017

12:10 AM 4/24/2017

I’m slightly nervous, and can’t quite get totally immersed in what I’m writing, because I’m sitting outside letting Jacob run around. He’s not very familiar with this place. I have taken him outside for the last two nights in a row, because I feel terrible for him being stuck inside all day when I’m gone, and he’s actually locked in my room, not in the entire apartment, because my roommate is not entirely comfortable with cats, and she asked me to. So I definitely want him to have a little bit of time outside. Nighttime is a good time to do it. There’s less activity. He’s scared of people and cars. He’s been in the woods for so long, and he can watch the birds, and catch mice, and wander around wherever he wants to out there. This is a terrible change for him, although he must feel more secure – maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he knows that strangers could come walking in the door at any moment to take him away, and he can’t hide from them.

I do have my assignment to write about Matthew, but will I be able to do that with half my mind on Jacob? We are sitting in this inner circle in the middle of the buildings, a little area surrounded by the building, but with some exit tunnel things that go out to the parking lots. Jacob could go through those and have a hard time finding his way back in. It’s very easy to get lost around here.

Maybe I’ll just go look for him and then come back here and sit down.

Oh, he’s right nearby. He came running when I unzipped my backpack to find the flashlight. If he just gets familiar with this inner circle plaza area then he’ll probably be fine.

So… Matthew. In caffeine reduction, I am able to stop doing the thing that caused him to block me. That was, sending long messages. But it’s more than that that I was doing. It’s so hard to talk about. I’m just going to count him as permanently gone for now. It’s up to him to decide if he ever wants to use me for any purpose whatsoever – he knows who I am, I am still on his list, technically (on facebook, that is), in the most minimal way. I am the furthermost available spare friend for the apocalypse, when all other friends have failed.

So. I looked at a piece of paper and saw that I had written that I was hired in February. I can’t believe it’s been that long. This is almost the end of April, so I’ve been working there for almost three months, and so, I will have seen Matthew throughout most of that time, but had no connection with him.

I mostly saw him when I worked overnights. I notice all the long-haired guys, especially if they are regulars who come there often. I do occasionally see long-haired guys who don’t come in very often. Matthew became a familar face, and that was all. He was friendly, but we didn’t have any major conversations with each other.

Ironically, even though I am complaining that drugs destroyed my relationship with him, it was probably drugs that started the relationship. Some things changed when I started drinking the energy drinks that had ginseng in them. Ginseng causes me to behave very differently, and I become friendlier. I’m pretty sure I was on ginseng energy drinks that night that Matthew talked to me for a long time.

So, he would come in on overnights and buy random things. I don’t remember what he bought, except the one time when he bought the cereal candy stuff. In fact – was he the guy who exchanged one thing for another thing, saying that the price per weight probably ended up being the same, but it *felt like* it was less because the overall price was less? I’m not sure if that was him or not. This person bought a bigger bag of something, which was more expensive, and exchanged it for a smaller bag of a similar thing, whose price was overall lower, but might have had a higher cost per weight, but it seemed better because the overall price was lower. I think that might have been these chocolate covered cereal things, but I’m not sure.

On the cereal night, he came up to the register and was being friendly, although I forget exactly what he said. He offered me some of the cereal after he bought it and opened the bag. And then, even though other customers came to the counter, he still stayed there talking to me, and giving me more pieces of chocolate covered cereal. So he sort of moved out of the way while other customers were coming up, but didn’t leave.

I knew he played music. I must have seen him carrying his guitar a few times. I thought he told me he played Christian music too, but it wasn’t just that, it was other types of music too.

One night he was sort of moody, and my coworker – was it Nader? – asked him several times how he was doing. So he said, he had just been in a battle of the bands, and he had lost. There had been all these technical difficulties, which was really embarrassing.

I said to him that I would love to listen to him play music sometime. This seemed to get his attention more focused on me. I might have been using ginseng that night, I’m not sure. It was like taking a step towards a deeper relationship. He began talking to me more often after that, more directly and more focused, instead of just being friendly and detached. I said, I’d love to listen to him playing music, but I probably wouldn’t be able to, because I never ended up doing anything, I just went to work and then went home every night, and I made it sound like my life was very dull and boring and lonely. ‘Family?’ he asked at one point, and I explained that I had parents in West Virginia, and a few relatives scattered around the area, but I wasn’t actually with anyone. So, he knew that I wasn’t with anyone, and after that, he became more friendly – knowing he wasn’t going to annoy some husband of mine by talking to me.

What else?

I’m trying to remember the conversations that we had *before* the one big conversation that we had that one night. I thought I remembered another one, but I have forgotten it. I was going over them in my mind over the last couple days. There was at least one more significant conversation that we had about something once.

Well, I will just go to the big conversation then.

I had been on the ‘rolling schedule’ and they had sprayed pesticide. I was having horrible fatigue, and still lived in the tent. I was so exhausted I could barely remain standing for my whole shift on the night shift. All I was doing was merely showing up for work, and ringing people up on the cash register. There’s a whole bunch of other stuff I was supposed to do that I wasn’t doing, and I felt totally worthless, like I was going to get fired.

The whole time I had noticed him, I had typed him as INTJ, so I knew there was no possibility of a close relationship. He would be off in his little world, and I would be off in my little world, and if we tried a relationship, it wouldn’t work out. (Well, that turned out to be true, but not because of socionics.)

On this night, he came in in the middle of the night, and stayed around for quite a while, a very long time. I was dragging very badly. I’m pretty sure I had one or a few energy drinks or espressos. So I would be more talkative.

I hardly got anything done at all that night, but after a while, talking to Matthew become more important than anything else on earth, including my job. Nothing mattered but him. It didn’t matter that I was failing at my job tonight. It only mattered that he was there and I was talking to him, and that meant everything would be okay. I could lose my job, but it didn’t matter. Matthew would do something to fix it.

How could he know that it was okay to take my time? How could he know that it would be all right if I didn’t get all my assigned tasks done? How could he know that it would be all right if I was late at doing something I was scheduled to do by a certain hour, specifically, all the breakfast sandwiches that I hated cooking? I was in fact late with breakfast that day, and a couple early morning customers noticed. After that, I was taken off overnights for a while, and I’m pretty sure that was why. But at that time, it didn’t matter. The entire world revolved around Matthew and the fact that he was bonding with me, and we together would do something about it if I lost my job.

I know socionics. I know it’s my role function, Ni, intuition of time, that tells me ‘I’m late,’ and it’s the same element, Ni, that is Matthew’s ignore function, that tells him, ‘who cares.’ I’m late – who cares?

I started off by telling him I was very tired. I don’t remember what I said. Maybe I told him I was sensitive to pesticides. Maybe – yes – I told him I was camping. I told him I was camping, in essence, ‘homeless,’ and his eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He felt terrible for me because I was having so many problems.

We talked about religion, but I don’t recall exactly what. He had experienced synchronicities. I know exactly what they are, but I interpret them differently. To him, it is the voice of God, the will of God, calling his attention to this or that thing, urging him to do this, making several connected events happen at one time. To him, that was God. To me, it is ‘puppeteers’ using ‘electronic mind control’ to ‘force’ people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise have done, which violates free will. He doesn’t experience it as a violation. He doesn’t experience it as being controlled in a negative way. But he did say that there were difficulties in distinguishing what to do – you couldn’t just obey every single urge you had. Some were right, others were wrong.

One time he was sitting by the road, and a guy was walking past him, pushing his car. Matthew asked if he could help and asked what was wrong. The car was just dead and wouldn’t start for some reason. Matthew asked if they could both just try praying about it, if the other guy believed in God – he said he did. So, they prayed about it. Matthew turned the key in the ignition and it didn’t turn on. Actually, that was before they prayed. He realized he was trying to do the miracle himself and get the credit for it, and so *that* was when he asked the other guy to pray to God, to give God proper credit for it. After they prayed, when he turned the key, the car turned on and was running fine.

When I see experiences like this, I interpret them as being mind control, computer hackers, radio weapons or sonic weapons or whatever else is being used, to control equipment from afar, and it’s especially easy to do with new cars which are all internet-connected and controlled from afar anyway. But Matthew doesn’t know this and I listen to him telling me stories like this with one part of myself having a different explanation, and another part of myself just loving him for being who he is and doing what he does. It just doesn’t matter that he interprets it differently, for now. He can’t know everything all at once. Nobody is born knowing everything.

What else? That night. I told him about my chronic fatigue. He asked me if there were any problems that we could pray about, including all my problems in general, and he said God has a perfect plan for me. At some point, in this conversation or maybe in a future one, he asked what I wanted, and I said I wanted to marry someone and have kids and have a farm, and I wanted to find like-minded people to be with me. He said God wanted me to have all of those things. He had said something himself, something bitter-sounding, about how unimportant or useless it was to think about having kids and marrying people – but that’s because of what’s going on with the girl he loves, Hannah. He loves her, but she has been saying she only wants to be his friend.

We prayed for me, about my fatigue, about my home and my family and my future. I held his hands. I did this over the counter at the convenience store in the middle of the night. One or two people came in while we did this, but walked on past us. I was delighted to hold his hands. I felt the tips of his fingers between my fingers. I can’t remember exactly what position I was holding them in.

That night we exchanged phone numbers, and that was when we started texting, and talking to each other more often.

I’m going to bed. This is only partway done.

Comparative religion

April 23, 2017

I decided to entertain… What the hell was I saying? I got interrupted. Entertain myself by reading about comparative religion, people’s attempts to see how much the various religions agree with or contradict each other. I vaguely recall reading that the ENFP tends to be interested in this. This particular article does in fact seem to be written in ENFP style.

Anaya doesn’t have a mythological basis, which is why I called it a practical religion – it tells you how to live. It is more than an intentional community. It behaves like a religion. It has no gods because I’ve never been visited by aliens. The gods of Anaya are an imaginary abstraction, but everyone is aware of this from the beginning. It is something to meditate on only if someone wants to. It also is a collection of teachings based on some general themes, but the teachings grow and are localized.

So I partly wanted to compare my concept of Anaya to someone else’s analysis of other religions to see if mine had any characteristics in common with them. But I can’t do that thoroughly right now. I’m at work.

I am finding Matthew clones in music bands now. I listen for music that sounds like his and people who look like him.

It’s a shame that suffering creates music, and celebrities are often the most tortured people. I’m pretty sure some songs I love were written by coke addicts and other drug users. He told me his song was about his crazy ex girlfriend, although I don’t see her as an ex. They’re just going through a phase. He’s going back home and will be with her again.

I’m drinking one long drawn out cup of decaf mixed with water until it becomes homeopathic. I’m only on my first cup, but I’m also eating M&Ms. They’ll be gone soon too so I won’t have caffeine from chocolate anymore.

I want to write down the extremely short tale of Matthew, hopefully tonight.

No Asian antigravity air fryers today

April 23, 2017

Asians have all the cool stuff. They have gold-plated tungsten coins, and they have magnet-powered motors, and now, apparently, antigravity air fryers. I can find all of these things on I actually found things claiming to be magnet motors on Alibaba, and I’d really like to investigate them. I saw fake magnet motors on youtube, and decided they were fake when I tried to recreate them, but the *principle* is not fake, and it needs to be worked on – this is a long term project, to recreate a magnet powered motor. I refuse to believe it’s not possible. I don’t like the words ‘not possible.’

The bike-borrowing incident also feels like the work of Asians. I can just *feel* that it’s something a crazy Asian would do. I love Asians but they are also fucking insane. They are able to think much faster than I do. If I’m having a conversation with an Asian, they respond before I’ve even finished saying what I’m saying.

My roommate said that the guy with the air fryer wasn’t coming over today because he had a project to do. But she went and cooked something herself. I have ‘cooking envy.’ I’m pretty sure she’s an INFJ. It feels like the type of interaction we’re having, not like an ISFJ.

I don’t like to cook elaborate things, especially not just for myself, but she does. She cooks the kind of things where you cut up tiny quantities of little herbs and spices. I don’t do that. If I get herbs and spices, most likely I am going to grab them out of the package and just eat them as is. The most elaborate thing I made was a sandwich on seeded rye bread with smoked bleu cheese from cows not treated with bovine growth hormone, with organic baby butter lettuce, and fresh dill from a package, and organic pico salsa, and, maybe at one time I made a similar sandwich with smoked sockeye salmon with no added colors and no fake smoke flavor, which is about $10 a pack for a few tiny thin sheets. And then on the side I had frozen wild blueberries and a couple of tamarinds.

COOKING ENVY. I want to have the time and energy to cook things that smell really good like she does.

However I also have cooking envy of the Inuit people, who kill a seal and then eat it raw while sitting on the floor. I am definitely the more uncivilized one of the two of us. I just wiped my salmon-covered hands on my bedsheets. I stopped wearing indoor shoes because we aren’t in a contamination scenario.

Asian shoe-changing follows strict contamination protocols – they know about ephedra, but they don’t know that they know. They have forgotten why they do this. I did exactly the same thing when ephedra was all over my floor. I would wear shoes indoors and change them at every transition, like between clean floors and dirty floors, or outdoors and indoors. Clean shoes had to be protected from touching the ephedra covered surfaces. All the Asians I have lived with wear sandals indoors, and take them off and put a different pair on, at transitions such as the transition between the carpet and the hard floor. It’s so similar to what I did with the ephedra contamination, and ephedra is an Asian herb that they would have used in the past, although not so much nowadays, as they, too, have started using ‘modern’ medicine more. Ephedra is a ‘medicine’ that has no justification for use even when you believe in using herbal medicine. There are people who still claim they are using it because it clears their sinuses. There is no amount small enough to make it safe for use. I know it all from personal experience.

So I stopped wearing the indoor sandals I wore for a few days when I started here. I did actually follow the protocol, but the floor isn’t contaminated and so I stopped, and now I just wear socks. I told the roommate that I had done something similar in the past because I had something on my floor that I was ‘allergic’ to, although I couldn’t explain in more detail. This carpet is still covered with toxic chemicals though.

I do love Asians and I admire them, but at the same time they make me aware that I am sort of slow, and dumb, and shallow, and uncivilized, and rough. I am a bull in a china shop. They are always more well-dressed than I am, at all times. But I don’t really feel like talking about Asians.

Caffeine withdrawal will make me more growth-oriented or
progress-oriented. It did before. I became able to work on learning how to program the video game. I could only do that when I was caffeine-free and using sage and rosemary, although it might have been only the rosemary – I will have to test it again. I was using both. I could use several more herbs as well, but I want to use herbs that won’t have too many side effects. The side effects of sage and rosemary are negligible. St. John’s Wort is too strong, and causes both contamination and chronic fatigue, along with sexual arousal and loss of impulse control. However, it causes interesting things like story-writing and music-writing, which are very valuable.

I will go over the memories of Matthew, this extremely brief relationship which was killed by my taking caffeine pills and releasing the 17 years of trauma. I had horrible fatigue for a while when I was in the tent and unable to take showers, but I’m doing much better now that I can shower. When I’m covered in pesticides and chemicals that causes fatigue. In principle, I don’t believe people should have to shower all the time, but it’s necessary when you’re constantly contaminated with poisons.

Somebody borrowed my bike and gave it back. You bastards!

April 23, 2017

That potentially lethal steering malfunction is MINE, not yours. I locked it up now. If I knew they’d always bring it back in time for me to use it when I need it, that’d be fine.

“Asymptomatic” = dehydrated

April 23, 2017

I’ve decided there are no asymptomatic people. When you’re using caffeine you’re so dehydrated – even with only one cup a day – that you can’t produce bodily fluids. Well, there is only one good thing about this now, which is I won’t be able to forget for one instant that I absolutely have to go to the doctor as soon as possible, because I am definitely very symptomatic. Meeting Matthew at the worst possible time – but isn’t it *always* the worst possible time to fall in love with someone, in my chaotic life of constant crisis? One of the pointless forced disclosures was, they forced me to inform him that I had an infection, although at first I did not specify what it was, and I did this in a text message. There was no need to even do that at all, because we *still* weren’t going to have sex, even if nothing had been wrong with me.

I won’t have time to write

April 23, 2017

However, I am reviewing my memories of every little thing that I can remember happening with Matthew. I cannot remember the *feeling* very easily, because the feeling was one of happiness and trust, which has been destroyed, and I cannot create imaginary emotions in my mind – I have very little control over emotions. But I am remembering events – we did this, then we did that – and I will write them down.

I was sleeping in this morning. Yesterday at work, I drank two, long-drawn-out cups of decaffeinated coffee. I added water to them as the level went down, and it became paler and paler until it was a pale yellow. Then I got a refill of decaf and drank it again, although I didn’t add water for as long of a time now. It was just very unpleasant.

This morning, I slept longer and longer, and kept waking up, and looking at the clock, only to see that very little time had passed by since the last time I woke up. I swear I looked at, like, 10:45 am two or three times, it seemed like.

The reason why I have no time is because my roommate is going to cook something with a friend at noon, and she invited me a couple days ago. They have an air fryer, which sounds kind of like the same thing as a convection oven, and I am going to see how it works. Apparently the chicken is going to float in antigravity inside there so the air is touching all of the surfaces or something. Or maybe the air vortex is so strong it lifts the chicken up off the bottom surface of the container. I don’t know. I’ll have to see. I can kind of make fun of this, knowing what I know about healthy fats and unhealthy fats, knowing that you don’t have to avoid all fat, but actually, though, if we’re eating factory farm American chicken we certainly don’t need to add any fat to it.

I should start getting ready. I ate a few M&Ms. There is still half the package left. That is a caffeine source.

I remember the joy of seeing a little red number above the green messenger smiley face

April 22, 2017

For a brief couple days before I lost Matthew, before the trauma-triggered, caffeine-pill disclosure data dump, I could send a text to him and be guaranteed to get one back in a few minutes.