Endure this

Sex drive low. 

Partially because any fantasy is observered by someone/some people. Partially because I’m worried my ejaculate is inseminating my own brain. Though that is tongue in cheek and I don’t really believe that, it just might as well be the case. I feel as if the only way I’m going to survive is in a glass house, masturbating in front of a crowd of leering men. My brain is sending me signals - don’t ejaculate because this. Or this. Or this. Remember that time you got shunted out of time and felt yourself dying in N of M worlds because of the cascade of events you observed in a small action to do with playing cards? Remember that time when you felt your left hemisphere being snipped away at while you lay there helpless? Remember that time when some otherworldly beast pushed its nose into your ear and sniffed something akin to a sentence? Remember that time a beast from another world latched its long crooked teeth onto the top of your head, shook it around, while - carried by its bad smelling breath - it throatily whispered ‘calm’, leaking out your blood where upon touching the ground it formed people who seemed to be angry with you for making them wait? You should remember that while you’re having sex, or listen to the sound of a man in the next room getting off while observing you simulating members of the opposite sex having sex with you to remind yourself that you’re capable of having sex and having a distressing flashback, or you should realize when looking at pornography that there is a world of people who are all having sex with each other while you sit alone in a room and cry your soul out of your eyes in the form of tears because you were shunned in the real world and weren’t allowed to develop in that manner and that’s probably more conducive to self doubt/pity and sad dreams than good sex. Good sex is not the most important thing in the universe, it is at least only one of the most important things in the universe, but the intelligence with which I was hoping to reveal other important things has been eaten away or the routes to it have been made impassable and most people fall back on this one.

If being socially cohesive, or living in a lonely world, is a prerequisite for acceptance or denial respectively into the future, it appears that the direction of development of those who are at the mercy of whoever’s at the gates, and themselves, can easily be manipulated. Though I’m a little too exhausted to think of an example applicable to my context, I’m reminded of the hopelessness inherent for a person labelled as a ‘loner’, along with the popular attachments to that concept, such as quietly planning your murder, or someone who is not to be trusted, therefore alienating them further from your social network. Which is in some ways ironic. Though it’s only what I’ve been tuned into by my own treatment. I do not find this place comfortable. If I could leave this and go to some dreamworld I would, although if it were at the expense of someone like me, or someone else, or someone, something something. The tone of this is all wrong. Perhaps I could turn it into a film or a song or something.

Before all this, I had a decent internal representation of the state of my brain which I could only poorly represent in the external world, although now my internal representation is hazy, but think of it as this - compasses whose needles are constrained by N dimensions which are directed by carefully placed magnets pointing toward desired future. Certainly not inflexible, but in the absence of being held in place by focus or some other mechanism is probably more timing based (ie, when the sun peeks through a pinhole in the sky). Intuition describes my current state as having collapsed into a more or less two dimensional plane linked to the end of my spinal column, on top of which there are a bunch of people having a party slash orgy at my expense, showing me images of people making love and poking me with cattle prods or firing guns right next to my head to make sure I stay out of my imagination, which is admittedly a scary place when unbounded by time. Sometimes we argue. It’s like trying to push an intelligent guy through a web of vapid but emotionally charged assertion. It’s wearing me out, yo.

Also, a few weeks ago my head was burned by a vast intelligence. My state changes so rapidly it’s difficult to describe outside of snapshots of experience - a pain, like I could feel the life and death and love and fear of every organism in the world balancing on top of my head - extreme emotional connection with members of the opposite sex, or rather shared experience of longing - time flattening so that I was aware of the consequence of every one of my actions cascading through it - what feels like teeth clamping down in a space close to my heart - my digestive system talking to me or commenting on my state of awareness. Surprisingly, I attribute my stability in that environment to my ability to empathize emotionally - in other words, my heart. Although what seemingly followed was differently aligned intelligences inhabiting the space my intelligence would be, thereby pushing me out onto a plane where my intelligence conflicted with theirs - a kind of systemic consequence that perhaps was overlooked. Being that I was not able to develop my own understanding in time, as the holistic awareness of our minds were meeting in the moment, I inhibited my awareness for the sake of their dream, of which I appear to be the focus, but I’m not sure they realize that they’re actually pushing me out of my brain, that it burns the intelligence I was developing (ie intelligence coupled with emotion and of course development through time) and that it has more or less been disregarded or mined for all it is worth. It kind of goes without saying that this wasn’t what I intended or wanted. I just wanted a healthy relationship. Or love. Some vessel for my spirit that wasn’t denied at every turn. I feel as if all of this has been the consequence of action based on misinterpretation. Like I’ve been forced into a competition that I had negated the need for. Like my love / my dream of love has been stolen, redistributed, burned, and that I have been cast as some kind of villain that constantly has to prove his worth on deeper and deeper planes of intelligence.