Stream of Consciousness Journal 1

So it’s the first night back from the hospital after my complete psychotic meltdown online and in person. It’s kinda hard to have one without the other. Schizophrenia is a bitch. My friend jux said that this is the hangover period, but that in two months or so I would be where I need to be. I tend to agree with him, despite being in a weird place right now. By weird place, I mean I’m back at my dad’s. It’s hard not being emotionally perturbed when all your childhood memories exist in this house. I can feel my mind get pulled back through the ether and I constantly feel like I’m in a timeless state where the past and present are one. That’s PTSD for you. It’s hard. It’s really hard, and I’ve needed to admit that for a while. My strategy for dealing with anything hurtful in the past was to just barrel through it, regardless of the pain it caused me. Imagine someone charging through a field of brambles, the thorns tearing into their skin with each step. I’m scarred. Literally and figuratively. Those, too, also go together quite often. I’m just trying now. That’s all I can do. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming....

It’s weird coming back to this after a period away. All the pieces are still there, but they’re foreign in a way. I don’t know what direction this will go. Usually, I can “feel” my way through a whole idea before I begin typing. It’s a heuristic thing. I can see the points where the frost will first solidify and expand. I often write in a snowflake style, letting my thoughts evolve over time. I use the term “chiseling” a lot to describe writing, and in a similar fashion I admire sculptors the most among the types of artists out there. It’s so pristine how they get every little detail so perfect. This is how I first approached writing. In college, I obsessed over getting everything perfect. Every word needed to be absolute in it’s meaning and intent. Now () I prefer to shoot from the hip. It flows so much smoother. It’s creamier too. I can fit details in naturally, and I suppose I’ve gotten proficient at seeing the nuances I can create as I go. Sculptors must also have such a talent with their marble.

Tinnitus just started. Actually, it started at the (), but hey who actually cares. It’s not like anyone actually believes that the CIA is beaming a high frequency sound into my ear to keep me awake and to fill my head with ideas with HAARP, or however they’re doing it. I’m not an engineer, but its not difficult to understand how it’s possible to do this in 2018. It’s clearly external. I know what normal tinnitus sounds like. This is not like that. I can “locate” it in space, if that makes sense. When something makes a noise, we have a sense of where it occurs. I can tell it’s happening right outside my ear. Also, they modulate the frequency, which is noticeable if I’m paying attention. Of course, the question is raised: “But GregRory (I’ve decided this is going to be my name from now on; it emphasizes the duality within me), why would the CIA be targeting you?” Potential. I keep building mine. If you don’t believe that I’m going to be famous, that’s cool. I’m going to keep doing me. While I was in the hospital, I used a lot of the down time to practice my raps. I only remember two of them, and only partially at that. Yay new task that needs to be done every day, along with learning Norwegian and Hebrew, writing a bajillion words, juggling, learning a new thing, etc. If you can’t see what I’m building, just wait. It’s going to be amazing.

Delusions of grandeur, check. Whatevs. Dazzle camo is in full swing. If you’re still reading this, I love you, and my job is to wake up the population. Not all of it, just the ones who would take the time to read this. Those that aren’t fully consumed by the Body. I consider myself a salesman who peddles two things: love and truth. Love is the only thing that heals and truth is the only thing that clarifies. Combined, one can bring someone up out of the Matrix and into their full potential. America is the third most populated country in the world. If we gained a billion people overnight, we’d still be the third most populated country in the world. Clearly, those who are running this ship are making sure the herd’s potential is fully tapped. I used to think there was a NEET epidemic. Nope. We network and heal those who can’t heal themselves.

Speaking of which, I didn’t catch the cat. That’s code. She was beautiful. But she was selectively mute. Definitely farther on the spectrum than I am. I can only wonder what wonders danced in her head. I could tell how much light was in her. But she wouldn’t crack. Hopefully the seeds I tossed sprouted. If you're reading this, hi. She had a beautiful smile. I just wished she smiled more. Oh well. I was resistant when they first started to fish me out of my seclusion.

Seclusion. That’s where I am now. Tomorrow, I want to get out and juggle around Westcott. Just meet someone, anyone. I felt so good in the hospital because I felt like I had a group of friends. I hope some of them text me. They said they would. Balls in their court. If they don’t, their loss. When I make coffee, I use this piece of paper that separates those that I want from those that I don’t. Next week it’s supposed to rain, so I gotta do this now. Now is the only time there is. Carpe Diem.

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