locked in a white room

Sometimes it appears I'm locked in a white room. Occasionally visited by familiar entities, family members, a girl with a mask, a girl without skin, an eel like phantom - cold, glowing purple and red. Occasionally I journey out into a 'spirit realm'.  I've lost my abilities. At least, inhibited by reactions to them. When I had them I seemed to be travelling at incredible speed in some 'field', quite willingly of course, as exploration of my new ability. There was a time I appeared to be making love to a spirit. Around this time, it seems I started being abused and molested by other spirits. Things with tongues in my ears sucking out my energy, the teeth of some otherwordly beast in my head, my blood dripping down and metamorphosising into humans, people watching my imagination, tearing my mind apart. Teeth clamping down around my heart, snipping in my head. I also had a strange experience in which my mind seemed to buzz with electricity, I heard a voice say 'you're the f**king apocalypse, mate', before I found a kind of fractal structure which seemed to channel that energy into love, whereupon I heard the word 'baby', a slight flash, and experienced an intelligence that seemed to float in love. (Another time, I experienced an intelligence in which our bodies and habits involving consumption appeared to me as extremely primitive, as if I had evolved mentally a great deal in a short space of time. What's interesting is the emotion I felt - though it was interesting, seeing a family member in this state caused great unnerve and sadness in me.)

It seems now I'm simply visited by unwanted guests who make fun of me while I dangle off some cliff. As soon as I open my doors they all flood in - that can be as simple as falling asleep or thinking the wrong thing, but certainly when my awareness reaches heights just above 'zombie' status. Thus, the habit of intelligence in terms of awareness is difficult to maintain. I get the instinctive feeling that they are horizontal in relation to the 'direction' of my consciousness - in fact, since the start of the phenomenon of my mind being taken over, it appears my mind has been compressed spatially, I've been locked into some structure whose immense power over me often takes all of my mental effort to repress - this seems to only happen when I'm being observed or knocked out of my mind. Aside from the habitual reaction of thinking of literal shit when I'm observed (to begin with, this never happened, it seems its formation a consequence of traumatic experience), I also have had to lock access to my higher level intelligence to avoid hurting the observers. Nevertheless they are quite willing to attack me on an emotional level, to torment me or simply make fun of me. They are quite intelligent though they seem to lack empathetic reason, instead their understanding seems to be on a hierarchical plane, where actions and emotional reactions are either 'correct' or parodied. This is in contrast to an intelligence which finds a way to model the internal structure of that it observes and finds a path between them which avoids conflict. It appears I'm pushed out into some negative space - as if the space they inhabit is mine. I have also experienced intelligences which don't conflict as much with my own - generally communicating through metaphor, imagery, small motions/actions/statements. I'm often paralysed in my dreams. Sometimes I get the feeling that there are a group of people feeding off my energy, who attempted to do this without me finding out. Sometimes I feel as though the negative experiences are designed to lock me in place in order to do so. It's obvious really that torture in a space akin to an emotional concentration camp is not something that would be carried out by well meaning intelligences.

From years back, some letters addressed to no-one

Sometimes I think how my life could be. Or, how I could be. The people I could be meeting, the connections we could be making, the dreams that we could be living out together.
It sucks being in prison. Everything is in place to remind you of these walls. There is no escaping yourself. None that’s not carefully monitored.
I feel like having your dreams crushed is the closest thing that can be legally forced upon you to castration. That’s what this sometimes feels like, except imagine your testicles or ovaries are self aware. Held down and forced to watch every potential future closed off to you.
Now imagine you’re captured by a tribe that use you as a subject for medical experiments. Who are unable to understand or empathise with your pain. Who couldn’t possibly fathom the grave consequences of their actions. To whom you could never, ever, ever, communicate your suffering.

-

Any life. A happy one. One without wasted potential. With a healthy amount of connections. Where love is not a distant fantasy. Without emotional disfigurement. Without these ugly lines that mark my breaking point. With the promise of health while it is attainable. 

-

A mind. Indoctrinated into a system. Channelled through pathways to a predetermined goal. On the one hand, it’s a fairly efficient tool that achieves synchronization between organisms and strength in communication. On the other, it virtually removes any room for manoeuvre. Topologically smothers possibilities. Shapes any truth that bubbles to the surface.
-

Picking and jabbing at and fucking with the head of someone who’s lost their mind. In these moments of clarity I can see it. It becomes another layer of something to escape from before you can be a human being again. To live and love. The most important things to you somehow become a laughable desire in me. I am tired. Trying to prove this to you. I don’t want to fight. If I have to fight, I become something else. Something equally unreachable. All I want is that warm glow back. The one I feel as if you hardly notice in yourself. Someone with an open heart. Willing to see the good in me. Not from behind walls or under floorboards. Not as a passing judgement from a foreign station.

-

I’m sorry. For me. Life here is hard, I try my best to not let it effect who I am but sometimes I am not strong enough. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable because of me. I want to radiate happiness, like I used to.

-

In my attempts at perfection I usually end up looking really fucking weird. When you’re not fighting yourself, everything just slips off the tongue you know? To actually think, long and hard, about what you’re saying and doing, there are so many potential stumbling blocks that can stop you in your tracks.
The problem is I seem to have lost myself in the process. I think going back would kill my soul a little anyway, after experiencing all this possibility. But maybe one day I’ll reach wherever it is I’m headed. Until then, this limbo isn’t exactly the friendliest place to be. Most people shrug me off. Talk over me because I swim against the flow, so to speak.. I get the feeling they see that as some kind of disability. But my mind is more or less functioning normally, so I kind of just have to watch from behind bars as they form a representation of me that precludes me from forming a neutral relationship with them.
It’s a sacrifice I made all the while believing in the back of my mind that I could some day choose to make my way back. And now, I don’t feel like I can apply what I learned as an ‘outsider’. I worry that I’m stuck here. I guess that’s my concern. Stuck here with the weight of all this possibility on my shoulders, without any chance of becoming one myself, watching all the lives I could have lived, predicting all the ways that I could die, and not being able to do a fucking thing about it.

-

I don't want to be alone forever, but it'd be nice to choose to be when I feel like I need it. I guess the majority of people in the civilized world have this privilege, and it probably keeps them sane considering there are no working toilets in soap operas. Sometimes I think I just need time for what the social network doesn't allow for or takes out of context. Like writing this. Most people have a place they can go. Physically or mentally.

It wouldn't even matter. From a completely neutral standpoint. Or one which evolved in harmony with the parts of ourselves we now have to hide away. But yes. Ok. It's right. At least a choice. At least. To do what I need to do without minds transforming my actions into symbols to be understood in a social context. To not have the reaction to that representation forced upon me. My base motions are not fodder for the worlds judgement. It is not communally ready or willing to understand them from a neutral standpoint. It's a horrendous notion, that I should be forced to mould my core to a higher level understanding that disregards the essence of what we are. That's the very definition of hollowing yourself out. 

If you can watch freedom and come to some solid conclusion that fits with your internal representation. "Weirdo", "Freak", etc. That implies that you've already found an answer that accounts for everything. And there's nothing wrong with that, at least as a hut on a mountainside. But I really shouldn't be forced to act in accordance with it. I shouldn't be shunned and barred from the network or closed off as a possibility because you decided to stop thinking at that station. In an ideal world.

-

More often than not, it's not what you do. It's that you're doing anything at all.

Having said that, I think synthesising and forcing a negative reaction onto someone's actions in order to stunt their growth ranks pretty high on the 'things that are legal that could kill a man' list.

I would take it one step further.

You wake up in a pitch black room and everywhere you step gives you a strong electric shock. Eventually you gain the strength to run to the walls, feeling for an exit, but there is none. And the pain from the shocks is accumulating. So you run back to the bed, where there's nothing but sleep and your memories.

You're a seed planted in a bed of poison. Someone willingly smothered you so the order that blooms from their actions is left untainted. If you manage to fight your way through the crust and into the sunlight you're cut down the minute you're noticed.

-

It can’t conceive of what it’s destroying.
Cancer, disease, virus, animal. That is its enabler.

-

The rules are always going to be bent. In the shadows where no-one sees or the heights which no unwitting rung of a ladder can reach. The system could never work on virtuous contribution. There's no concrete definition. The sands will shift and the foundation will erode. And what's left when it's gone? Just you and your survival. However you define yourself. There's strength in numbers but there's also mass. So it's the individual that'll flourish all the while you're leading yourself in circles. Right up until you decide to reach a density that a new path can breach. Why is it that the most uniform collectives seem to channel the most power? And the simplest, the most pure? In the abstract, a dissonant set of molecules with open arms and frozen hearts. At the top end of a potential explosion of consciousness, blunted by a chaotic storm. Every star had to pierce the darkness. The only lasting disagreement placement within the system and their identification with the winds that carry them. I opened my eyes and there I was, and now I'm me.

The noise. Deafening and grating. Like the universe screaming in its sleep. As it pulls itself up and drags itself down. Your eyes but not mine.

Sex tip: knowing how your partner feels brings the most satisfying orgasm.

-

I feel as if I'm being led on by people who are only partially there.

As if one day they'll be whole, reachable. Instead of lurking at the threshold of my senses. I catch glimpses of positive responses by hidden eyes, and that possibility - that I'm watched and appreciated, it keeps me in this trap of unrelinquished effort.

My mind is full of light I can never communicate. Meaningless fluff, then, in a social context. As opposed to soul destroying nothingness. Want to know how I feel? I feel as if we stand side by side, but the depths of our souls are left cold and alone. Neglected, as we're caught up in directions for the correct dressing up of ourselves and the world. Feeding blunt order to an algorithm that blossoms into beautiful infinity when itself becomes the input.

She acknowledges my heart.

I want life. What I fear most is being sucked into an empty shell of understanding. Because, ultimately, we're the ones in control of the future. The decisions we make in our lifetimes will resonate for millennia. The paths we take. The vector of memory reconfiguring the diamond structure at the helm of this beautiful ship. The history of the universe.

-

The longer it goes on, the more they understand themselves in the context of the order, the earlier they’re indoctrinated. The self and all things replace replaced with synthetic synchronized answers that override all possibility. Beautiful towering giants through which information flows. Dead pathways to rainbows that last for split seconds. Dulled. Blunted. Blurred. De-rezzed. The mind sends it off in all directions and it becomes the arms which pull them through time.

Aimless, vulgar and barely interesting. Am I unaware right now? Somebody knows and it's not them.

I spent a long time in the dark, and then I had an epiphany. I decided I was going to invest it all in my children’s future.

Throughout life, I had endeavoured to learn how to cultivate and make use of my intelligence and emotion for positive change, coupled with my the potential, of own admission, for my frame of reference to be one of naivety. I suppose that this is something a lot of people aspire to when faced with the opportunity. While it took some time, during which I must have appeared lazy, lifeless and perhaps useless beyond psychological experimentation to an outside observer, actively sought out and passively absorbed information and rarely conformed to the expectations of society, I eventually happened upon both an understanding and a reason conducive to make that change and to set a course. The hurdles I ran into at this point were external in nature. Emotional blackmail of various forms. The decision to utilize a most convincing method of control - social / environmental insults. At it’s heart is the expression that information available to them is not available to the accused - in essence the cultivation of self-doubt, of feelings of unworthiness, of helpless desperation, and an inability to gel with the social network. This became unavoidable in day-to-day life, making lasting internal organisation difficult due to the frequent frustration it caused, forcing me to pour all my intellectual resources into dealing with their source. Without an outlet, the conflict is internalized - there is no way to deal with the external insults.

Now the mafia have intervened in my life and are taking everything I earn from me. There seems little point in fighting, although I have tried. Effort I expend to achieve anything is essentially worthless. Used against me. The harder I fight the more they interfere, and the more they interfere the more I’m driven to insanity, bitterness and anguish. I’ve learned - and I would wager that they know - that there’s a very tangible method of driving somebody to this. All I can do exist on the edge of humanity, in stasis, and I probably would have committed suicide already if I didn’t understand the value of what’s being kept from me.

I would imagine it works like this : you escape, and you’re seen as a threat/target. You’re isolated (because escape can be communicated throughout the network). You’re forced into a new prison - one that’s essentially inescapable, but also bears very little in terms of tangible value that could be taken and funneled into their cause. That could be the reason it’s reserved for the disobedient. People who are unlikely to break free (for example, a self sustaining ego trip that would be threatened by the propagation of an alternate perspective) are chosen and used as antagonists, unreachable, kept in place by a network of understanding that affirms their actions. They are used to harass and mentally molest you, increasing in frequency and intensity the closer you get to having a lasting effect on the universe, ie, having kids, building relationships, doing anything other than sitting on your own completely still slowly dying.

With the concurrent cultivation of awareness of my position in time as it is currently understood, and the resultant implicit responsibilities - indeed, at its heart was simply the motivation to improve myself to the best of my ability - as I mentioned previously, a source of immense frustration when coupled with the insults of my environment, which essentially holds my state in place - that awareness can simply not coexist without detriment to my composure. 

Title

We appeared. Slowed to a crawl at this moment after an incredible amount of energy phased trillions of organisms in and out of existence in the blink of an eye. In the blink of someone else’s eye, it will all change again. It is only natural that we become self aware, that we observe our own nature and wish to change it - out of all possible paths, it seems strange to me that we would wish to continue with our current state indefinitely, considering the imbalanced transaction required to retain our current forms. While in the present moment we are only really capable of lament without power over our physical form, the possibilities which open up through the vast expanse of time make positive change more tangible.

And this is where I’m blackmailed. Throughout life, I had endeavored to learn how to cultivate and make use of my intelligence and emotion for positive change, coupled with my the potential, of own admission, for my frame of reference to be one of naivety. I suppose that this is something a lot of people aspire to when faced with the opportunity. While it took some time, during which I must have appeared lazy, lifeless and perhaps useless beyond psychological experimentation to an outside observer, actively sought out and passively absorbed information and rarely conformed to the expectations of society, I eventually happened upon both an understanding and a reason conducive to make that change and to set a course. The hurdles I ran into at this point were external in nature. Emotional blackmail of various forms. A decision to utilize a most convincing method of control - social / environmental insults. At it’s heart is the expression that information available to them is not available to the accused - in essence the cultivation of self-doubt, of feelings of unworthiness, of helpless desperation, and an inability to gel with the social network. This became unavoidable in day-to-day life, making lasting internal organisation difficult due to the frequent frustration it caused, forcing me to pour all my intellectual resources into dealing with their source. Without an outlet, the conflict is internalized - there is no way to deal with the external insults.

With the concurrent cultivation of awareness of my position in time as it is currently understood, and the resultant implicit responsibilities - indeed, at its heart was simply the motivation to improve myself to the best of my ability - as I mentioned previously, a source of immense frustration when coupled with the insults of my environment, which essentially holds my state in place - that awareness can simply not coexist without detriment to my composure.

Distorted inner metric

The phenomenon appears to be that of essentially randomising states and forcing newly mapped emotion in a polarised manner. My map, one which understood and wove together a great deal of complex paths of emotion, has now been erased(?), simplified, ordered based on the principles of another frame of reference, almost like magnetism corrupting the state of memory. From my frame of reference, every ‘bit’ of information has been ‘randomised’ - perhaps ordered according to another - but has lost most of its meaning in the process. This appears to mirror the coping mechanism I developed in a time of great stress - that is, to forcefully convulse, randomly or rhythmically channeling impulses throughout my body in order to take my attention away from the source of that stress.

If it has any relevance at all, I was treated like an animal - held in a box I appeared in that realm, at least from what I could observe of myself, as light, surrounded by a crowd, cheered and jeered at as I attempted to reason with them. As far as I am aware, they had no better understanding than I - a technological advantage, perhaps, or a logical understanding of emotion - but seemed to be unaware of its relevance in navigation, only as a means of control. They seem intelligent, though lack empathy, defining specific emotional reactions as either correct or something to be parodied, in contrast to an intelligence which models internally the intelligences they observe and attempts to find a path between them which does not cause conflict. It appears their currency fuels an addiction to laughter - understanding this requires an awareness of its nature. It’s a convulsion of its own kind - that which appears to defend the self from analysis of certain phenomenon.

I am neglecting to mention the positive psychological and physiological effects here because they appear to be self evident - it has certainly helped me to regain my composure after traumatic experiences - but in my experience, it also seems in certain forms to be one of the root causes of the aforementioned phenomenon. A quick and dirty analysis results in the idea that it has trapped my soul in a prison of negative perspective. There are times when my intelligence, I believe along with the nature of my treatment, leads me to very unstable places. At those times, especially when I feel as though I am being closely monitored, it leads to a state of unbearable panic and fear - I am wary of thinking something that may be judged as socially dissonant, but especially of the juxtaposition between that raw intelligence I experience and the intelligences of those who observe. Controlling the impulses of the mind is incredibly difficult in that state - fear of simply being aware of those things often lays a pathway to them in my own head. There are different levels of the depth of those experiences, but simply avoiding that intelligence often leads to a physiological and emotional stress which takes the majority of my energy to manage. It is often torment of a manner so alien it is difficult to describe in words, and I do not wish to use the metaphor of the negative experiences of others, as I feel it’s indicative of a lack of respect for their emotions to compare them. Often though, it is the only way I can relate my feelings to what I feel are the external forces responsible for prolonging them. Inhumane treatment. Lack of emotional empathy guiding the actions and reactions of those who have control over me in those moments. It has left me in such a broken state that being in the position as a guide to that intelligence, or simply to lead a safe path through it, fills me with such fear, dread and shame that I often drop the role altogether out of fear for emotional stability. It has been a terrible experience for me, and unfortunately that does not begin to describe the alien intelligence, and the horror which it might propagate in the soul of, say, a child, (perhaps akin to drugging them with a high dose of a hallucinogen) or the places I have been. Occasionally I reach a state in which I am able to communicate something akin to pure love, but the memory of the instability brought by my previous experiences is enough to make it a short lived thing. Weaving it into a form acceptable by all manner of positions in time, all levels of intelligence, is not something that is realistically achievable without time to heal. The current situation will not allow for that. I often find the only solace I can take is a realistic dream of love. The more this happens to me, the less I can believe that will ever be true for me. My head is filled with the judgements of others, of intelligences of all manners, that attempt force my life into a shape they can all agree on. It burns my soul. I’ve had to forget out of sheer survival instinct. They will not leave me alone. I experience the hell of that intelligence as they inhabit my space, they have a map of my psychology and have built their own interpretation of hell for me. It is a complete lack of empathy. I can only escape in dreams, and they invade those too.

Patience, time. Inner reflection. I had spent time understanding emotion, finding the best ways to connect. I’m now forced into a corner, with an instant reaction, a collapse, to every potential route.

There were positive experiences too - marred by the attempts to bury me under assertion of certain frames of reference - one involved an intelligence of love communicating with me through visual metaphor, mirroring my internal emotional state. It seemed this was also observed by those around me. The experience was fascinating and uplifting. The other occurred after what appeared to be a simulation of emotional hell - the whole of the x turned on me and attempted to break me down emotionally. Psychic attacks, the people around me condescending me and commenting on me as I walked past, stood outside my x while I was trying to sleep belittling me, a woman's monologue about me being ‘worthless’, a musician parodying my character, a girl and guy having audible sex next to me, to which I reacted to negatively given the circumstances, i.e. that of control of my environment and little hope for me in it - for all intents and purposes, and coupled with the aforementioned harrowing experiences, it was a form of torture - there was no escape for me, just inescapable torment from those around me. I had already been through a harrowing experience and just wanted a break. In the morning, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Sauron”, which is funny because raping somebodies soul can be funny, after a horrendous night, I seemed to communicate with a variety of intelligences, mainly humans but also trees and birds. They were reacting to my internal state, calling harder as I felt a pull away from it. I appeared to be participating in a communal dream of which I was the centerpiece, trying to hold it together with love - this required all of my inner strength, which was severely diminished after a night of torment. I was just called a monkey. There was some sort of birdsong synesthesia, squares of different sizes and colours, some moving, some standing still. I also interacted with humans, however I had little self control - I had essentially been bullied into lifting the whole place into a dream - and so my projected self was that of a naked guy with with an erection. That was no less dignified than the reaction to the rest of the treatment.

I feel as if this is all a little ironic - the path I would have just as readily followed without all the external interference, if I were allowed some freedom of movement. Perhaps this is what frustrates me so much - that it appears I am being tormented in order to free those who torment me. I do not know where to turn. I do - at least, I know what I need - and my life before was using the time I had gracefully in order to plan a better route around conflict, to imagine a harmonious form of communication, in maps of emotion and the misunderstandings which result in said conflict, and, I’m embarrassed to admit, in the form of more unified sexual connection - though I wasn’t so embarrassed when I had time to myself, time to grow. I need peace, and time, and some trust in what’s going in, if it’s at all true, some direct connection. It often feels like a crowd of voyeurs watching and occasionally trying to participate with somebody make love. My fear of judgement, especially by those who would rather laugh or place me in a position in some imagined hierarchy, as opposed to understanding why, and the awareness of those eyes on me often makes me focus on my ‘flaws’ from that frame of reference - bad hygiene, being watched on the toilet, personal habits I’m not proud of. Opinions of my own I would be able to analyse objectively with time. Reactions deprived of the feedback loops designed to guide them. Emotion as a tool to manipulate as opposed to help with navigation.

If I were the thing which I'm pertaining to be, this would be my to-do list Pt. 2

• Make elaborate plans to steal somebodies dream and/or love which discount the value and purity of real emotion.
• Forcefully harass, abuse trust and emotions, torture, rape, bully, experiment on, monitor against somebodies will, make snide comments, imprison, drill into brains, wear a mask while doing so. 
• Neglect the potential of alternate systems, or of simple love and compassion to negate the need for this. 
• The age old disparity disparity disparity. One mans pain justified at anothers pleasure.
• So what? It's a joke, lol. I'm joking. 

I wanted to live.

Love holds things together

A detatched house. We're outside in our huge garden. It's a beautiful day. I think it was my wedding day. Close to it, at least. My wife, family and friends scattered around. This is all very rare. This, I guess, is the day we would have created together.
My wife and I head inside. A friend follows us and remarks "You had something to offer her? What's behind these then?", then starts knocking the golden bricks out from the walls of my house, revealing what appears to be complete darkness behind it. I get the impression that this is a reflection of his mind, not my own, as it is the depth of connection, not the space in which it resides, which is important to me.

Later I realized that I built this place as somewhere for she and I to go and be alone. And that communal dreams are not recommended if you have theives in your vicinity.

My teeth are falling out. My diamond is being burned. I have been tortured. A voice just said "I hope he gets Alzhiemers". I think it was someone I considered a good friend. I am not having a good day.

Oh, and there was an explosion I managed to outrun.

the parts you didn't see

The parts you didn't see. Thus extracting a weighted approximation of the observed, your own expectations and biases filling in the gaps in your conception of them, entangled with your decisions, which depending on how righteous you believe your judgement to be, are potentially better or worse (but probably worse) than those made with consideration for that process. Chaos in the areas unobserved. Interaction in social space and development over time. The myriad of potential pathways that led to your current state. The ability to change them, at least in yourself. Your own potential. Then there's the parts locked down by observation from a social context. And the decision by others to eat me alive. Please stop trying to kill me now.

It seems my head has been taken over. I can barely think without my route being subverted by circular responses. I’m having to hold my awareness in place in order to compensate. I am being pulled down(?). I’m not sure I can retain my intelligence in this state, nor my energy. I go from tired and old to young and full of energy at a moments notice. I do not have the time to analyze my state in depth due to the subversion previously mentioned. I’m sorry. I am trying.

It appears the repetitive statements are forms of attractors in time - forcing it down certain pathways - which, you would think, could be used to better the world. These are invasive and intrusive but occasionally subdued by conscious effort.

For a brief time I had control over some field. Honestly, it’s just interesting, but it seems there are things intent on sucking my blood. This is a good thing provided it’s done right. I was then jumped upon by angry things who live in dust.

A few nights ago, I managed to crawl into a womb. I think I was dying. I think it’s the criticism. It’s a self fulfilling prophecy. Or perhaps not.

It’s difficult to hold awareness of your actions throughout time in the moment. I’m aware that this is perhaps not the right way to frame things, and the things I perceive are not often easy to deal with emotionally, especially when considered from an external perspective - but it seems in those states it’s emotion, specifically the vicarious experience of it from a projected position, that stabilizes that awareness. I should note that I would not recount certain forms of awareness, if it were possible, without first considering the implications of the connection between states of the observing organisms. My days are interesting but I still have concerns. My mind is barraged with information, often in the form of looping statements which appear to respond to my internal state - other times, flashes of imagery, more complex statements.

I am losing my energy. My will to live. I’ve been drained. Last night I could feel myself being mummified, my brain being snipped at, the base of my spinal cord being cracked and twisted. I can feel tongues resting inside my ears. My head is barraged with high frequency waves, as if I am being cooked. My head is burned. Occasionally I see glimmers of day. I have been to what appears to be the edge of death a few times, though I always wake here. It appears I am being mined for pure emotion, often through unsanitary means.

The story I am being told is one I’m not sure I want to recount. I am being sucked into my own death. I was led here. I was raped of my love, my pathways were blocked until the only release I had was sheer frustration and lust - it seems this is all because I cared enough not to want to harm the people who were harming me. And now they are raping the day out of me. Though I'm not sure they considered the parts they didn't see.

subtle notions and inferences

My intelligence, when it does develop, completely trumps my communicative ability. The artwork, the music, while I’m always acutely aware of what it lacks, seriously pales in comparison to that which my imagination conjures up in these states. Today, though it is an echo of my previous experiences, I conceived of this entire country as a gigantic labyrinth in time. I suppose there are some that are already aware of this, or have been, or will be. It would have been nice to have found an outlet for the more subtle notions and inferences of this, though I’ll reiterate that for all the potential I had, it was retarded, it seems intentionally gagged by constant attacks on my efforts. And so that’s where my intelligence goes. Not on constructive, productive things, or just simple lighthearted living, but on the analysis of the attacks to alleviate my frustration at being a target.

It is so easy to abuse. Power. It’s so easy to abuse for them. I would say that truly understanding the repercussions of that power is essentially the seed of complexity in the modern mind. Something about equilibrium and the physical structure of a carrier. Compassionate understanding requires a decent model of your environment. Acknowledgement and vicarious experience of others pain and happiness is essentially acknowledgement of their reality, which is obviously very real to them, though potentially quite difficult to escape given full conscious conception. Though in an environment in which rarely any information is trustworthy, the complexity and depth of social bonds are affected, based on the various strategies of social groups / individuals.

I built a machine from love and junctions

I built a machine from love and junctions that could solve every conceivable problem in the most amicable manner on its own terms but it was stolen and sold to the Nazis. Convinced of our lack of a better nature in time we decided that everything we were and are is everything we will be and killed each other with our corrupt and painfully easy to influence intelligences. We poisoned peoples dreams. Like that one lady in snow white. The problem is, is that if their attempts to influence work, then they are likely subject to a manner of manipulation themselves. If they can't escape their doctrine then they may as well not trust any of their actions or define them as anything beyond simple instructions they follow to keep their meme alive. Right now I’m imagining people going out and getting laid while I sit in a box playing computer games designed to be homicidal to bide time in between being cripplingly emotionally abused. Also internet porn. Whose very existence, the idea that there are a bunch of people fucking each other for profit, as my only escape from my dead world has become a terrible torture for me.

I had this dream that females controlled the world using their vaginas. Not just by rewarding beople, but also entangling them with your farts if you'd been bad. Actually, it wasn't all bad. They could bring you back from the brink of death had you been abused or dealt some bad cards in life. But still, it wasn’t a nice dream. Mainly because it was selecting for the most competitive and/or the easiest to influence. I’m not sure if that leads to a stalemate state or some other inevitable conclusion. Also, it kind of ruined love - though their public philosophy was that they hated love, making the dream state somewhat easier to attain. Made it a lot more turmoilous for people who didn’t accept the situation, though. Especially those who really did love, trust, and who knew instinctively what this meant for them.

I’m sometimes called an animal. Which is, assuming you don’t consider yourself one, or that it's derogatory in assessment of state, far from the truth. It seems unfair that one is considered normal while the other is required to adhere to their standards - it seems more like simple strategy, of assertion of place in abstract hierarchy - It seems their understanding could be likened to that of a localized field, which understands in terms of positions of weighted importance relative to itself. This is in contrast with the alternate idea of a field which envelops everything at some core level, treating everything as roughly equal and attempting to bridge the gap. This might be partly what's to blame for me slowly rotting in a cage. I drew a diagram.

         __         __          __         __
         \o`-. V .-`o/          \o`-. V .-`o/
          )   '#'   (            )   '#'   (
          \_ .-#-. _/            \_ .-#-. _/
           /`  #  `\              /`  #  `\
           \o /V\ o/              \o /V\ o/
            )/   \(                )/   \(
           '`     `'              '`     `'
             Small                Far Away.

(Also, they're off to the side in one dimension and inside out.)

Ever see those Greek jars with the masturbating satyrs on them? One of the earliest records of humour, supposedly. I hope it has nothing to do with an order that preys on sadness like some of my other dreams. That is as equally worryingly misled as the vaginae.

There is a hole in my head.

There is a hole in my head. When I think about it. Like the tears of an ancient intelligence welling up through time. And other funny funny things. Like numptys. And tapas. And my own murder. In this space, creation is censored while a very real hell for me is becoming more tangible less tangible more tangible.

The philosophy which shapes their order is primarily the idea that their being is closely tied to one-dimensional abstract concepts, a one-dimensional line, a value asserted or projected or measured (subjectively based on the position of the observer) which forms a kind of social currency. Such as winning or losing.


Why was I attempting to block it out at all? It appears on reflection, though I also knew this instinctively at the time, that I was developing and protecting a fragile neurological(?) state. Fragile in the sense that becoming enveloped in an alternate environment would easily detract from its core nature - that common structures in communication, interaction and overall environment would easily swamp or overshadow these lower level processes, especially given the requirement of becoming totally enveloped in these structures in order to act and appear like a normal human being.

The word freak is at once a destructive term and an onanist castration. I guess, aside from being a derogatory term, it also encourages the lack of analysis in favour of a simple reductionist reaction, draws a line between the observer and the observed, segregates or requires adherence to the order which it infers is the most correct. I don’t know. Moo. Quite honestly I’m rarely called a freak. Just in case the idea is that I’ve been emotionally harmed by the application of that label and thus have learned to obsess over it. I’m actually more interested in the obsession in others to use derogatory terms in lieu of my real name.

They’ve been attacking me, pretty much day in day out, for longer than I can remember now. As far as I can tell, the most prominent effect has been funneling my intelligence into certain forms, as opposed to the cultivation of it in a general manner, which I am aware may be an incorrect attribution. Perhaps that I had something to protect made me more vulnerable. I have been attempting to focus on developing my emotional and functional intelligence, mainly in the areas of fundamental understanding of our physical universe and the biological processes which emerge, specifically the areas of geometry, recursion and the emergence of complex systems and behaviours - and, by extension, their underlying threads. I feel as if I have a more instinctive understanding of time, more difficult to describe, though certainly not as developed as my understanding of physical nature, (something to do with unresolvables) and that which I have developed (quite recently) I don’t seem to have access to at the present moment. I also have a heart. And that which I document here does not negate the presence of dreams. I feel as though my recent experiences have been clearing out my intelligence in favour of somebody elses dream. Aggressive assertions about ‘ruling it hard’ and ‘murdering my daughter’ and ‘saving our world’. Repetitive statements I believe are attempting to influence the state of my intelligence or my conclusions. My imagination and my intelligence have been damaged. A physical sensation in certain areas of my brain, like a pressure, or like teeth clamping down on the top of my head. For a while I’ve been toying with the idea that the imagination is an almost limitless space, carried by physical structure. It’s ironic then that mine appears to have been crowded by other ‘beings’, that at the present moment that I have very little space for my own dreams. Like my every conscious thought is observed and reacted to, that I essentially ‘can’t breathe’. I suppose it’s a sad state of being when, X, if only to connect more strongly in the real world as a result, for example, but even that is observed, influenced, commented on, like there are beings getting inside my body and experiencing what I do. It seems they come out when I sleep. I don’t know if I should go insane or just give up.

I suppose I should record some feelings I’ve been having, though they are difficult to describe, and perhaps should be considered from a distance. One such feeling is the notion of emotion linked to time - perhaps an instinctive conception of that which is hard to comprehend from a conscious standpoint. The feeling of loss of a loved one, for example, is felt in the heart, but from the standpoint of a ‘reality’ which may not be fully observed it appears to be the experience of an event of universal consequence which has an untold effect on the life of the observer, and the lives of those connected to them, and the cascade of reactions through time as a result. Investment and growth. To become enveloped in this awareness is eye-opening but often painful and alienating. I’ve been having more frequent experiences of this kind of intelligence recently, and actually find myself having to inhibit my thoughts. On top of this I feel as if my own dreams have turned into some kind of witch hunt, like they are observing my thoughts and holding me responsible for my own negative experiences, vilifying me or abusing me, as if some part of me has become conscious and has decided to ‘overthrow’ me. There seems to be little consideration for causality in their assertions - ie, the effect of their attacks on my overall stability, which seems to validate the notions which affirm their belief that attacking me is the ‘correct’ course of action. Overall my experiences have not been pleasant, though I retain my spirit and long for a manner in which it could manifest untainted by my treatment.

Imagine me. Make me hollow.

Imagine me. Make me hollow.

I don't know why they did it.
They're trying to scare you into submission. It worked, to an extent.

They're trying to make me look bad.
Of course they are. That's how they control people.

Through us ignoring rational, objective argument, he’s losing the ability to think rationally and objectively.
That’s a boon for us, because we’re not (thinking rationally and objectively).

Yes, I agree. I’m just being pulled into non-recursive algorithms.

Fragments of conversations. Did you fuck a devil? I was trying to free it. But it impaired you.
Animal fucker. Out the window.

I hate god. I’m going to resurrect him, and then kill him.
That’s a stupid idea.
It’s the kind he would have.

So how does god choose, exactly?

Instinct. Blind luck. On top of a perfect system which affirms itself.

Maybe. Maybe he needed time.

Perhaps one arm wavered a little in one direction, and saw his own reflection, and used that as affirmation. Of justification for chewing the skin off of the bones of those around him. Perhaps no-one listened. Or no-one agreed. Attempted to forcefully control him with the only limbs they had.

Pushing through the darkness of the moment. Perhaps you see too far, you see a closed door, you attempt to avoid it.
Horoscopes, zodiacs, holding each other as close as they can without breaking.
And, in those short cycles, no route to the future, no proof of a future self beyond coercion, in no uncertain terms, of the validity of their system which breaks down the connections of those they’re unable to understand into forms which they can, discarding the holistic nature of the system they’re ingesting. Perhaps likening their prey to a distant sunset - positioning is everything - one man’s sunrise. Just a code which has no value beyond another day. Pain and pleasure. Rooted in the moment. Our attempt at escape.

I must not like myself in order to have these forms of ideas.

Why is it so important? They must know, correct?

Forms which it can’t hold. Imbalance of force. They tore open my arm and are now calling my wounds stupid. Feels as if they’re keeping them open. Talking to them as if they’re all of me. Layers of torment. They’re smart enough to know how to eat something, to fool an immune system into attacking itself. Perhaps not smart enough to understand why, if even necessary, they need to.

Intelligence. Communication of higher level intelligence to lower level intelligence. Kindness. Forms it can understand without being chewed up and eaten.

Some observations

Some observations:

There have been times when I have experienced intense levels of awareness of the potential repercussions of actions, behaviour etc on future states - varying timescales. Often this leads to internal instability.

I had spent a great deal of effort developing my internal representation of external processes. My attachment to the development of these structures probably formed due to the psychological manipulation / experimentation I appear to have been the subject of - rather, that the time invested in forming habits of a constructive, communicative nature within the systems I inhabit was often wasted, their formation stifled and foundations lost due to the repercussions of a high frequency of what I would consider environmental insults.

In order to maintain the development of these structures, I required an environment which did not ask a great deal from me - rather, to not be neck deep in social networks or to take for granted certain understandings, in order to observe and deconstruct mental habits which would otherwise be difficult to escape from or require the majority of my mental effort in order to maintain. The translation between the aforementioned internal interpretation and socially viable external representation required time to process - a constant environment of real time conversation and triggers of stress drains me of the ability to use processes required to develop deep intuition about biological, emotional and environmental processes.

At the moment, it appears I am under siege by a subset of personality types. Often dissonant, judgmental, occasionally complementary, but whose tone and words hint at an implicit understanding / hierarchy. The apparently external influence varies in complexity, usually blunt statements with little context, accusatory statements, chuckles - sometimes my dreams seem to be taken over, and occasionally I experience flashes of imagery. My head is full of people - something it never was before, or rather, never without the will to think about them. (Now, I am afraid to think about much without fear of being observed - this is not a state I am comfortable with or am willing to get used to, if only for the fact my intelligence is eroded there). It is worth noting that their accents are Southern British, that they appear to be intent on observing my actions and thoughts and reacting to them in a verbal manner - they seem to be following what I conclude to be a tight regime, they are not open in interaction, though its goal is less obvious - the whole process seems to have confused my eye with my face. It has ruined my eye. The process of observation has, as you would predict, had an effect on the observed.

My intelligence has taken me to places I fear recently. I find new experiences interesting, but I managed to keep my composure before knowing I had complete control of my internal environment - my methods of regaining stability were trustworthy enough - the ability to know how to feel. Emotion played the role of navigation. I had developed an internal set of structures  akin to a functional organism - right now, it feels as if it is being eaten alive - misinterpreted by its host and reconfigured in its own likeness. My complaint was often that the process was not iterative in nature - that its value was misrepresented.
My ideas have also been outlandish of late - as if I am receiving information from a new environment - I am having more trouble than usual verifying them in a logical basis. It is difficult to describe a sense, moreso one which is completely alien to me.

Notes

Since the first, and so far, only major attack - I don’t recall the date - I have lost a great deal of my mental faculties and am struggling to regain them. The pure fear I experienced, and the speed at which my mind had to turn in order to survive, left me in a state of shock and, after the ordeal, with little control over my internal impulses. This problem became accentuated by what appeared to be the presence of other humans in my mind perceiving my internal state . My impulses - essentially reactions I had little control over, pathways I had etched into my mind as a matter of necessity in order to react quickly enough to the event - were, as I recall, dangerous in that environment. Not to the people around me, but to myself, based on how I would be perceived in that frame of reference. I had to consciously subdue those impulses by essentially redirecting them to physical convulsions. My immediate external environment seemed to treat me without much consideration for the events I had been a part of - it seemed like, and I reiterate seemed, that the crux of what I was subjected to were attempts at control without regard for my fragile state at the time - perhaps in spite of it, or possibly due to it.

The pattern which emerged, which I’m just able to coherently communicate, is one of juxtaposed states - the external attempts at control seem to be focused on placing me in situations of extreme contradiction : a manipulation of polarity it seems, within the confines of systems which are perhaps arbitrary in definition. While this form of control was practiced in slightly less magnificent proportion before - “hate you. I love you.” - it’s now extended to juxtaposition between my internal state, manipulated by deliberate barrages of negative influences, and situations where the feelings that it creates in me are not appropriate in terms of social cohesion. It feels, at the very least, a deliberate attempt to make my life a misery, though more often than not my mind is in a slightly altered state of awareness in which the consequences of these external influences and their effect on my internal state are much more far reaching. It almost feels like it’s being wielded as a weapon - I feel as if it is being used to blackmail me, to force control into the hands of people, who quite honestly, are prepared to use that kind of manipulation as a means of control.

Everything is veiled here - besides, it seems, me. I feel like there is an eye on my internal state at all times. In a sense, that’s rather reassuring. If it’s true then what I’ve seen, where I’ve been should have at least some effect on the confidence in the methods I’m currently being subjected to. That treatment and the frustration it leads to I attribute at least partly to my inability to gracefully communicate by other means - it stifles the development of skills which require focus, devotion and a relatively ‘normal’ environment. I can’t focus on it always - everything’s a distraction when you’re asked to interact with multiple frames of reference, generally all habitual for those who are attached to them - and when I am unable to is when the majority of negative feedback takes place. I wonder, assuming my assessment of the situation is valid at all considering the lack of solid information about the current oddly entangled state, if those who are attempting to negatively influence me are aware of that information at all, or the information I have access to in certain states of awareness.

I believe it goes without saying that the whole experience is categorized by emotion, by instinct. The fact that I feel so strongly is an advantage to those who use emotion as a tool to manipulate.

level of lucidity

When I reach this level of lucidity, I often realize the nature of the fate befallen me at the hands of those who harass me. Programmer, musician, artist, thinker, lover, happy guy with a lot to give. Someone who’d developed skill. Offensive label tortured and screaming in a corner as all of his timelines and potential burned by laughing emptiness. When I get this close - something that you wouldn’t want to realize. They’re soldiers fighting a war, clothing it in the language they choose, essentially that of manipulation of perception and diversion, and snipping away at the hope of those who might have developed. Why’d they choose me? I’m guessing the strength of my dreams. I certainly was not dangerous to them. Which makes me think that love has become an unregulated currency, manipulated by those who care for its purity the least. Success also has the added benefit of making you safe, more likely to reproduce, help you to better provide for your family, and so on. A day at the expense of another, something they’d probably need to farm and harvest as opposed to developing solar panels and doing something else with their lives than harassing me when I try to devote my time to something constructive, albeit primitive compared to the technology of the future, which I believe they tunneled through my head to reach.

It’s a notion, just that, but I believe the incredible intelligence that developed was the result of the inhabitation of my time and/or love - the same as intelligence, in one form or another, can develop as the result of conflict between organisms and their environments. However, the sheer level of intelligence burned me when in contact with those same organisms, causing me to have to hold myself still, or spend my time developing structures which contained it with little ‘productive’ benefit besides easing some pain - ‘productivity’ being the intended use of it, I suppose, in the areas it was most suited to, such as stopping / negating the need for this from happening. That’s not to say that intelligence arises only from conflict - just that growing large tusks is a legitimate survival strategy in an infinite cage where the direction of a large majority is toward you with bared teeth.

I’m slowly dying. I can feel it. Timeline dying. My brain must have gone into overdrive. He he he.

I don’t recall exactly when

I don’t recall exactly when - late June, early July 2012 - I was treated to a trickled in at first, then a barrage of responses to my own thoughts. “You are arrogant” was the main theme, variations I can’t recall, though there was no specificity in terms of response to my thoughts, just blanket statements. This was one of the first attacks of its kind, continuing throughout the night until, after a night of no sleep, I exploded with frustration, screamed my lungs out, inhaling then screaming, inhaling the screaming (hehehe) and destroyed my laptop with my fist. I completely lost control, though it was in a controlled manner - there was simply no other way to convey the damage it was doing to me, neither a way to stop it. I am not proud - imagine a parent, a spouse, a family member, a friend doing that.

What am I giving? A map of

Creative impulses are stifled here. A passive observer. Imagination is responded to, and within that structure there’s a specificity which nullifies potential, there’s little room for modelling of alternate perspectives, it makes objective analysis difficult, painful, it encourages response in the form of reaction based on arbitrary criteria as opposed to intelligently considered analysis, it makes self reflection from arbitrary perspectives a requirement, it disregards or actively discourages intellect on a certain axis, it has cultivated in me a habit where my thoughts very quickly take a negative turn. It is discouraging intelligence in favour of socially acceptable mental practices such as numbing my awareness, of disallowing deep objective analysis, of burning my map. It feels as though I am being eaten alive on some level. It appears whoever is intent on interfering with me needs to do so because they don’t understand what is outside of their control. They certainly are not willing to engage with it outside of assertion of its form, nor are they willing to listen to reason or engage in constructive discussion. I have few intelligent subconscious processes left. I fear the repercussions of simply using my imagination, mainly that their reactions to it burn my ears, or .

Last night I dreamt I was publicly imagining myself being on fire

Last night I dreamt I was publicly imagining myself being on fire, wearing nothing but a diaper, staring at myself side-on in a mirror whilst being called a dinosaur. That sounds funny until you think about what being on fire is like. I am seriously ill. As far as intellect goes, at the moment I am a bag of negative impulses and intrusive thoughts. Physically my health varies greatly from day to day. Whatever life I have, inner or otherwise, it’s severely marred by these negative impulses. Everything good I think or feel is impulsively contradicted. Any beautiful thing, or any personal hell, is just out of reach, momentarily experienced and then disregarded or repressed as a consequence of protecting myself or whoever appears to be observing my experiences from having to be fully enveloped in the negative. I know full well that the majority of it is subjective, a scenario not consciously chosen but put to me by whatever process is controlling the direction of my thoughts, and in my desperation I search for a way to nullify them, or simply let them slide. The longer this goes on the more imprisoned I feel, the more I feel the intelligence of some subconscious level of my mind being eaten away, though there are some experiences and interactions here I need to retain a connection with in order to feel human and to feel as if my love is worth something. Essentially at the present moment that, and hope, is all that’s keeping me breathing. Though I feel like clinging onto life as hard as I am is making whatever death I’m being made aware of all the more horrific. Words cannot describe. It seems that whatever inhabits my mind, coupled with the process mentioned above, pushes me to a form of intelligence which - I don’t know. It often feels like an intelligence of an incomprehensible nature dying an extremely intelligent death, completely alone in the sense there’s no manner in which to relate to it. It seems the alternative is public humiliation, being toyed with by what appears to be a large subset of the general public, being forcefully controlled, instead of simply being allowed to live and develop in some hospitable, relatively empathetic direct social environment, though I acknowledge that my own inhibitions make this somewhat difficult to achieve.

Inflicting status ailment.

Heaven is where you go when you need a zoo. It’s where you can abuse people into a state of pure confusion, neglect their potential for growth, torment them from behind a wall with images of freedom they may never reach, then grating condescension and harassment, until they scream themselves into an animal frenzy that scars their face and makes them ugly, and feel justified in doing so. It’s pure hedonism, in character, controlled by a puppet master, who shits down the neck of anything he doesn’t understand, who puts it in a box for those under his thumb to use as leverage for their own skewed motive, who hides his lack of empathy just beyond a layer of tangibility, bought and sold or stolen and stamped with his name. It’s the worst case scenario of skewed perception, which convinced of the righteousness of its own judgment, will without delay attack anything which pokes its head out from the sand, regardless of its intent. It’s a survival strategy, the logic of emotional and environmental control, lost in its own superficial reflection, pitted against anything which doesn’t conform to its understanding of itself.

I miss my dreams.

I miss my dreams. I miss my friends. I miss my future. I miss food, if you catch my drift. I miss love. I miss trust. Though my withdrawal from all these things may have something to do with the abuse of it.

I feel as if I should write something here, though I’m growing a little tired. I should mention some threads that I’ve neglected to describe in detail, for fear of forgetting or in case my ability to record them is tarnished somehow. Increasingly I have been pulled into my head by repeating statements. I can control them when aware of them, otherwise they repeat statements relating to my state of awareness. x ‘You are murdering your blood’ is repeating at the moment, although this is one I don’t believe I’ve heard before. Often I feel pinned in place. If I follow this feeling I observe flashes of dreams that appear to be interacting with me. Following further, a sense that my soul is being pulled from my body, or that I am interacting or embracing with spirits(?). That I am travelling at great speeds, and I can ‘see’ in the apparent random noise that appears when you close your eyes shadows of other worlds. My intelligence is going haywire - some extremely disturbing states of awareness - most of the time I realize that I may be being watched and I’m obliged to inhibit my intelligence. I felt as if the whole of creation was balancing on my head at one point, others flashes of awareness in the realm of biological process, though difficult to deconstruct and describe in detail. Pinned in place, it appeared I was surrounded by intelligences that I could communicate with, though the whole process lacks communication in the form of discourse - ‘there was a plane crash in france’.. ‘incidentally’... talk of some universal instability which I could sense as a feeling.

On top of this, although it may appear irrelevant, is the pervasive notion that there are entities (who I would associate with a daughter/wife) which exist in me whose perceptions are being manipulated. As if I am being tortured by people in one world, who drive these entities out into another where the torturers also exist, but where I’m painted in a negative light and these entities are convinced to reproduce or follow my abusers based on my apparent inability to be a good father/husband. With only an instinctive awareness coupled with objective reason, it feels as if something has been implanted in me from which I can’t escape, and it is draining my emotions. Objective, rational analysis or emotional clarity within a social system appears to be null and void here as whoever is grinding down my soul does not appear to want to see it - it could simply be a x implanted in me for all I can tell, but it reacts directly to my thoughts, and has forced me to inhibit any freedom of sense, terraforming my entire neurological landscape into something that’s acceptable from their frame of reference, as opposed to a space in which to model reality and find a way to better connect with everything. It’s interesting. And if I have responsibility for someone elses feelings, of course it’s my duty to make my own internal world a little more comfortable and inviting, although I am attached to my freedom - I have been defending myself for years because of where I imagined my intelligence could lead, or the way it could shape the world as I knew it.

Refill Pad