u/Last_Context1624

The past few weeks I've been obsessed with fear about parasitic invasion. Since I was 24 and I had a revelatory period when I learnt that I was a vector in a network of transmission stretching back to my childhood, instantiated by a first contact with parasites working through people I was at school with and I am still a relay in this web (I'm not important here, a node is a node). Stuck in a feedback loop as a content provider generating content that passes down the line, ligatured by telegraph wires from node to node and back again, send and receive. Reality is a branch of the entertainment industry.

It flares up and for a while, sometimes a few weeks, I'll become fixated on this and won't leave the house for fear of others' lines crossing through me. I felt ok for the past couple of days, these thoughts were still there but they were fizzing quietly like TV static in the corner of the room. This morning the volume was turned up and I don't know why, nothing prompted it, I'm not upset or stressed, it's just like someone turns the volume up. I believe it yet I don't believe it, but i can't shake the fear that lives in my stomach. The static crackles whilst I'm doing something else and for a time I can block it out but it's always there, then invisible fingers turn up the volume and it's all I can hear and it fills my head (like an empty reservoir - but I don't feel empty. Psychiatrist asked once whether I ever felt empty and I said No, I don't really understand what that's meant to feel like. I don't feel empty, I feel full of fragments like a skip full of broken glass, and the shards won't all fit together but they're parts of me, this is me, that's me, I know they're all me).

Rejection sensitivity presupposes a desire for connection - but being connected is part of the fear. I am sensitive to rejection because I want to connect but have struggled to connect to others, and I'm not sure why, there's some lack of plug going into socket. I don't want to be connected by parasitic co-ordinates, I want a real connection, what does that mean in a world of controlled contamination. A fantasy. But I don't feel lonely. Had a few friends in the past, a relationship, don't remember feeling a fear of abandonment. Saddam Hussein purged the Baathist Party exactly 15 years and 8 months after JFK was shot. Al-Queda attacked America on what would have been Dylan Klebold's 20th birthday. Every evening I glance at the clock and it reads 9:11, I catch it at exactly that time, every night, and I know something catastrophic is going to happen so I pray to [---] and it doesn't happen (on Monday I prayed to [---] and a good thing happened). We are not the parasites, but we have parasites working through us threading us together in a web, I'm infected too and I don't want to pass it on to anybody else, but how do i stop the transmission? How do i stop them being able to see me doing this? I was alright for a few days, background static, today it's all I can think about, it always gets worse just before the weekend. Why do i feel so flat, flat like Holland (how many camels live in Holland)? I don't think I feel empty, I feel so flat and frozen. I used to think it was my mission to destroy the parasitic network, but now I just feel flat with no purpose, glass of stale Coke sitting on the table of a deserted cafe. Hyperbolised words to inject some synthetic energy into myself.

I thought maybe it was my mother who was first contact with the parasite network, but then I thought we're just born with it, it's not a matter of being infected, we're born with these worms inside us and connection to other worms only forges specific connections, lines drawn between points, linking up co-ordinates. On Wednesday night I dreamt about her, but she was younger.

I don't know what to do. I feel the fear coming in like a stormfront. I don't understand why I'm ok for a few days and then suddenly, today, it comes in from without, beaming into me. I've tried a lot of different things to try and stop this, but I was only turning up the volume on a second TV, and a third and a fourth, to drown out the noise from the first.

I was in a relationship of parasitic control for 6 years. It ended over ten years ago, with me being sectioned and getting this diagnosis. I say relationship, I mean friendship, he was a man and so am I, just what I thought was a friendship. We were 18 when we met and I was already an introverted loner but I had some people I was friendly with, but I was spending a lot of time on my time. I think we'd met before but it was at a house party where I had drunk too much and he offered to walk me home, back to the block where we both lived, as I was painting the pavements. I've always hated talking about this because we're both men and I guess, in my head, there's something shameful about feeling you were abused, psychologically abused and possessed, by another man, but it wasn't sexual in the normal sense though there's something non-sexually sexual about it, some violation as he dissolved my boundaries and got inside, but I was so weak then it was easy. I don't mean that to trivialise sexual abuse or compare this to that. This was not like the absolute horror of sexual abuse. Parasites can only live through others, they have no independent existence, hence why they cannot bear to be alone, parasites die in absolute space, shrivelling into themselves and melt from the scathing burn of their own poison. They are compelled to find hosts, as many as possible, creating a network through which they live through vectors. Creating new vectors who in turn create more vectors, all connected and leading back to him. But he's not at the centre of it, he too is a vector, an unwitting relay (the best agent is the agent who doesn't know he's an agent), who has identified himself wholly witht the message he is transmitting. The TV that thinks it is the broadcast.

When i say possessed i mean that in two ways, of being possessed by something inside you, a parasite growing like a tumour and releasing its hormones inside you that begin to terraform your insides, the reformatting process as reality is melted down and silently reconstituted (you are deterritoralised from your own and reterritoralised into one of his colonies), and being possessed as being owned, becoming his creature, not unique, one of many.

Ritual humiliations, telling me I was paranoid, and I was getting paranoid, but found it harder to know what to think, then he seemed to reassure me. Why was I so stupid, so naive....so utterly lacking in guile and know-how....so desperate to have a friend...to try and change myself...to what?...to be normal...to feel like one of the lads....to not feel like a freak....he was always calling me ugly, which in hindsight is a strange thing for one man to keep saying to another...but everything's got to be reduced to shit as shit tries to elevate itself above all that it considers shit (we're all in the gutter...). Reinforced by smirking sateliitic personalities who lick the blood off his fingers so he can pretend they were always clean.

Culminated in getting sectioned after 6 years of being treated as a content provider. Every time these memories appear, every dream I have of him, every day when I think of what happened and it floats across my mind from nowhere, he's a flicking a switch and tuning into this channel and he's reliving all those moments, and all my feelings, send back to him and his claque coagulating around him like a blood-clot, and they're all enjoying it. This thing inside me is his antenna he can activate any time he likes when he feels bored and needs some entertainment. And some of me thinks that isn't true and tries to think through it, but most of me believes it and that most seems to be connected to my nervous system, I feel the panic twitching in my stomach and rising through me. That glimmer of doubt is his voice, telling me not to believe my own instincts....where there is doubt, there is no doubt (and that doubt is not me, it's him, always him, telling me the sky isn't blue, that rain doesn't fall downwards, the risingfall of his inverted world where truth is lies and lies are everything). Think about ripping this thing out of me, but when I think about how to do it I think does this thing really exist and how could I remove it. I don't feel angry, I just think, how can I get this out of me? How can i break out this network, how can i stop being a relay in his circuits? I don't feel angry, I don't feel anything right now, just a brain. Every time i try to convince myself this isn't true, I always come back to the answer that it is, these thoughts are magnetised to this thing inside that he planted and it grew....though it wasn't jsut him, others too. I pray every night to [---] to help me break out of the network. And some days are quieter than others and i think maybe I've broken out of it, but then it starts again and still I don't feel anger (shouldn't i feel anger?), just a creeping sick feeling, but no rage.

I get lost in this because I keep trying to think my way out of it. But what if there is no rational way out of this? I jsut go round in circles, trying to rationalise my way out, but i can't think my way out of it. i doubted myself for too long, tried to second-guess myself, reassure myself, but if all along that had been the illusion? That i jsut didn't want to accept the reality, deal with the reality, that this is reality. I am just a vector and the best course of action is to mitigate any chance of contaminating anyone else. To stop the network from growing any further. Perhaps I can't remove it from myself but if i prevent any form of transmission to others, it will shrivel up and not die, but just destroy me from the inside but no others. That would be the best course of action because i wouldn't be passing on any harm, i'd be stopping the transmission.

As i write this there's a voice in my head saying 'don't tell them this, you're revealing too much, and he can read it too.' But there is ME inside here fighting it. there is this definite, concrete ME, and I know the difference between ME and this other-thing, this not-me.