A terrible stream of consciousness
The past week (or has it been several by now?) has been taxing.
I’ve been having weird thoughts. Something went missing.. he must have stolen it. It couldn’t be anything else.
Perhaps he’s a shill. A paid actor. In the realm of possibilities I seem to reach for the more absurd. I remember seeing a reel once that many must of taken as a joke.
“When you fall in love with the guy who you think is a undercover agent sent to spy on you”
Something of that nature. I didn’t really find it funny. I got a weird sensation. People talk about being exposed when they see a relatable meme “don’t call me out like that haha” but it’s usually for some universally shared trait like .. I don’t know.. hating sand in your shoes? Fear of spiders? Running to the bathroom at night after watching a horror movie and thinking some monster is concealed behind the shower curtain?
I’m not sure anyone is so bold to admit they have a fear of being targeted in a way that suggests not being of “sound mind”. The Truman Show was an amazing movie, but, it’s just that - a movie. Fiction. A way to be entertained without considering that for many this is a type of “reality”.
Everyone jumped on the conspiracy wagon when those files came out. Suddenly, wearing that tinfoil hat looked awfully appealing. They were right all along and yet, the seeds had been planted by those who had perpetuated the crimes. A long time ago. “Let’s tell them the truth and then let’s make them look crazy”.
Isn’t that the crux of it all?
You know the truth but you don’t know why, so your mind starts filling in the gaps. You’re given just enough of an idea to feel unsettled but not enough information to deal with it tactfully. Then, you’re called crazy. The real kicker is when you start saying it before anyone else can.
“I’m crazy”
One day you think to yourself “maybe I’m not, but I feel crazy”
And that’s the distinction not often made. Feeling crazy is like feeling that there is too much internalized to cope with. Too many strings of information. Too many conflicting ideas. Too many possibilities.
I occupy this limbo. I’m aware enough to realize that some of my thoughts make no sense and yet a part of me listens to those stories, the needling little voice that constructs realities in my mind - realities in which, I am always at the centre of hostile forces. I don’t see the inconsistencies through my own lens, it is always through that of “society”. What would these so called normal people think, what has been branded as sane behaviour and thinking. What has been approved by the universal consciousness as “real” or “possible”. I suppose if one is willing enough they can occupy that place, too. But it was never about being normal or not, it was always about conforming.
I watched a video once. V sauce. Is my red your red? I suppose it always comes back to that, for me.
My legal advisor got sent a boat load of notes from the place I live. A transitional housing network. They sent the wrong thing but that’s beside the point. I found myself faced with 4 years of notes taken by these people. About me. Every interaction with a staff member I ever had, documented.
Then there was the missing vape. I thought he stole it. Then he found it on the sidewalk right after I got on the bus and was heading home. I returned back to retrieve it from him. But why was it so beat up? If I had only dropped it, the impact would not have been strong enough. So I threw it down as if it had fallen from my hand or pocket. Only a scuff, not a gash that implied being thrown with force.
And what if he decides to work here? A former client now a staff. What of those notes detailing my breakdown about him? What of my privacy?
I never cared much about some strange entity like the algorithm knowing my secrets and personal details.. but those within my circle? I can’t fathom that.
How strange. Is this paranoid thinking a product of environment? Of nature? Did everything lead me back here? To all these shifting realities and no one within reach to say “you’re okay. It’s okay”. Only worried looks, estranged responses.
I looked at the people I knew and they became strangers.
I sought love and found only that alien feeling yet again. I can’t hug you because it will only remind me that in every other moment I won’t be hugging anyone. It only reminds me that there will never be enough closeness to fill the cavern of my loneliness. The loneliness that resides within me, untouched by anything external.
I learned from V sauce that atoms never truly touch. And that is not just a fun fact for me. That’s what I have felt for my entire life but could not describe scientifically or profoundly.
I guess this is my post. I’m not sure why I’m here but I feel adrift again. Untethered. Unnatural. Uncanny.
Tomorrow the station will be changed and it will be business as usual but there is always the crackle beneath the din, threatening to grow louder as I ignore it.
I’m scared but then I crack a joke and smile. It will be fine as long as I continue performing normalcy. It will be fine if I get a job. It will be fine if I keep taking this medication that helps me function but also sends me into some manic spiral. It will be fine if I ignore my doubts and repress my thoughts and feelings. It will be fine if I say I love you but deep down I am deathly afraid because in my world no one loves “me”. There is no “me” and wherever she is, if she does exist, she does not love. She’s never loved. Just scraped the barrel looking for something she was told is love. Even if it stared her in the face, she would just see the indentation of a ghost. She would see the shapeshifting beast that constantly eludes her, made her question everything.
Where is he hiding now? He must be omnipresent. There is no one I can trust. Not even “myself”.