The mind and the body aren’t separate and Cartesian Dualism ruined psychiatry for the last however many years. People who are prone to emotionality in any direction will experience bouts of rage, terror, pain and anger like they never have when their body begins to rid itself of old cells.
Science claims that psychosomatic trauma can’t happen, or rather, it denies its impact on greater scales. Some psychoanalysts say conditions like eczema are caused by emotional trauma that is unresolved. I’ve considered it, and at a time believed that the eczema around my mouth meant that I was developing rashes because there was a secret I kept in my childhood.
I haven’t been able to figure out what that is.
Sv3rige asked Isaiah today, “what is your greatest fear” and Isaiah answered, “being alone” which is what I suspected sv3rige had just yesterday – a fear of being alone.
It’s incredibly hurtful at times being in this relationship, because I feel invalidated. I don’t have a fear of being alone, but I hate being left out or made unimportant. I don’t think in terms of fear, but in terms of want. I think about things I want and how to get them. I don’t think about things I don’t want or can’t stand… until I do.
In the last 24 hours I’ve eaten almost 40 eggs, more or less, and my mood has significantly changed. I’ve been in a bad mood all day, even angry, because I know something else is being cleared.
This is hard, you know. This is hard confronting and facing my emotions, and being in a relationship again, and even being in a relationship with literally my ideal person, and I still have demons I have to fight. But like I said, the mental and physical realms aren’t separate, so the demons I fight emotionally are somehow linked to my condition. All I want is to get better.
I have a very strong intolerance of heat and I almost always prefer cold. Sv3rige is the opposite. I’m compromising here, because I know how much he enjoys the sun, but I literally can’t stand being in the heat for too long, it makes my blood boil. So I’ve been angry today, and I picked up a wooden stick pretending it was a katana so I could slit someone’s throat and decapitate them. My thoughts are dark, they always have been. That’s probably why I hate the light so much.
I don’t know exactly what caused it, but the spread make it seem fungal. Sv3rige guessed that it was candida, and it did sort of feel like a candida die-off, but it also felt like I was detoxing antihistamines.
So I got to Florida and immediately I started sunbathing, my body wanted it. The southern Florida sun is incredibly strong, especially for me, a Washingtonian. My skin became unrecognizably dark, and I was insecure. I didn’t recognize my face in the mirror and my dark circles got worse.
I could only have sex in the dark. I felt like an insecure teenager again. Then it happened… the hives. I hate hives. They’re incredibly itchy and for me, disfiguring. My skin, head-to-toe, was covered in itchy, sweaty hives. With the increasing humidity, my sweat wouldn’t evaporate, so all that toxic stuff sat on and irritated my skin. I scratched in my sleep and of course it got worse.
It took me finally leaving Naples for the hives to stop. My eyes were swollen, my skin dark and dirty and my confidence lower than any point in my life ever. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. He told me I was autistic. I told him I was insecure about my skin.
If you’ve never had autoimmune disease, especially one that is so heavily appearance-based, you can’t understand how desperate you become. Desperate for a cure, desperate to look and feel normal, desperate to be beautiful.
I don’t have the strength to look at myself in the mirror. The hives have left discolored purple patches all over my body. I want nothing more but to go back to cold and darkness. It must be the fungus talking.
You see, fungi hate sunlight and heat so when I got here out of the cold, they waged war on my skin. They fought for their life here, and they died. What’s on my skin now is nothing but battle scars.
I pray that I heal from this. Or maybe I have to accept that my skin will be like this forever. I’ll never be the same, regardless.
I’m trying to heal myself. I am healing myself. There are days where I feel exhausted by it all I guess. And days where I want to become homicidal. Sometimes I feel like I’m looking for an ideal that doesn’t exist, and that I’ve put my faith in humanity where there is none. I feel like existence is hell and torture, no matter how much good I try to do. But then me even believing that I’m owed something for doing “good”, what does that even mean? Clearly no one owes me anything, and this string of relationships is proving that.
I don’t have low self-esteem, I love myself. I always have. But I end up with these people who treat me like shit because they’re unhappy with themselves and their lives, and then what am I supposed to do about it? Forgive them, detach from the situation, all of that.
I’ve never wanted anything more than to be healthy, and I’ve worked my ass off figuring out how to make that happen, but now people hate on me and call me names, make me feel bad for existing and being here when all I want to do is just be myself and be here.
I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be born this way or to be deformed. I didn’t ask to be attracted to the people i’m attracted to. I didn’t ask for any of this, so why do I have it? I’m supposedly the creator of my reality, but why would I create this fucking pain? Why do I still create pain?
Why can’t they just… why do I never feel chosen? Why do I end up in these situations where people aren’t loyal or dedicated to me? People who don’t love me or care about me, or any of that shit? I don’t get it. I don’t want that, so why do I have it?
But I wouldn’t even know what to do if he were to choose me, or what that would even mean. If he were to leave it all behind for me, as I would do for him. For him to be my best friend. I just want a best friend, someone who tells me everything, who prioritizes me over everyone else. I want that. I swear I have always wanted that. But I’m so stuck and can’t express myself. I don’t trust anyone. Not their intentions, not their intuition and when I try to get close to people I just end up hurt for some reason. I don’t get what I am doing wrong? What am I doing wrong?
This last year I’ve been more to myself than ever before, learning by myself, healing by myself and all that shit. And it really sucks man. I mean it just blows. It feels like people are hurting me more now than ever and I don’t get why? Am I hurting people? Am I doing something to hurt others? What am I doing and how can I stop this? I want off this fucking prison. I feel trapped again.
Yesterday felt like shit. Having to hide, feeling ugly and all of that. It really feels like it never ends, it all just feels so bad here. And all I want to do is get better and get my motivation and life back. I don’t feel like I’m living at all. It’s not fair. I guess I’ll just go to sleep. I hate feeling like I want to die. I hate feeling suicidal, but I guess deep down I always was. I always will be.
Okay, you guys keep bugging me to apply for this position, but I must warn you: I like to break the rules.
I just finished perusing the latest article on ias.edu about Professor Williams and her “Unanticipated Journey through the Physical world” and while I skimmed her history, which wasn’t very different from many other mathematicians – despite her gender and all that – what I found more interesting was what she was writing on the whiteboard.
“Alright, I know I shouldn’t minimize what she’s doing, but it’s just permutation groups of finite order. That’s like introductory abstract algebra. Wait, she’s probably using a Group Scheme or something…” I thought, because if there’s one thing I know about Algebraic Geometers, is that they’re really good at making simple concepts confusing. But then I saw the Grassmannian.
Anyway, that’s how anyone establishes or learns new information, they compare it to a database of stored information and make as many similarities as they can and then interpolate and extrapolate until new information is synthesized. Just staring at that picture, that’s all I had to go off of, but knowing how important symmetry groups are to mathematical biology and mathematical physics, I hold my breath for the later significance at one of her seminars.
Right. My application.
Okay, I like to break laws.
Not only grammatical laws.
Not simply criminal laws.
I’m talking about thermodynamic laws, particularly the second. Something, something, entropy, something, something Maxwell’s Demon, something something something something, something.
The reason why I don’t study mathematics professionally anymore, is because no one was paying me to do it, and I needed money. Sure, I did spend two years living in the Mathematics department at University of Washington, but there was one more rule I needed to break: my family’s poverty.
So, I moved to Princeton and opened my own medical practice at 112 Mercer Street and thus began my independent research.
In the way that Professor Williams loves patterns, I love to study when patterns fail. Statisticians call this deviancy, the judicial system calls it larceny, mathematicians call it singularity, physicists call it anomaly, neurologists call it encephalopathy, psychiatrists call it psychopathy and I call it autoimmunity.
My history of larceny is more of mental arsony, but you have to wait for the dissertation to see what I mean. Yeah, I don’t have a PhD… yet. I’ve applied to the Princeton Physics department although I would rather do a dual PhD in Physics and Mathematics, and then be a professor in the Physics and Mathematics department. (See what I mean about rule breaking?) I find that since Fine and Jadwin Hall are literally connected, it isn’t that big of a leap to request this.
I haven’t written much I know, and I don’t have time to doctor up a CV beyond what I did while I studying academically, because I don’t want to put anymore time into this unless I receive compensation. I do value and respect this position, and I’m more than qualified to work at this institution for many reasons my polymath status notwithstanding, but I also have a lot of work to do, and I dropped out of school previously because I am an interdisciplinary researcher, and mathematics can be such a jealous subject.
So would you mind breaking the rules for me?
We have been eating a plant-based diet since youth, and the rates of heart disease, diabetes, obesity, cancer, depression, and psychosis continue to increase.
Since childhood, we were told that plants were the way to cardiovascular health, that they are clean, and that you must eat 8-11 servings of them a day.
We were told that we need fiber to keep us healthy.
…that was the start of the pyramid scheme.
[Insert Plant Picture]
Notice that plants are the base of the pyramid. Grains, breads, cereals, donuts, cookies.
We have always eaten plant based.
So why are we still unhealthy? Why are people more suicidal and depressed than ever before? Why is the cancer rate now 1 in 2?
Precious resources (meat and fat) were saved for the top of the pyramid, as if they were rare jewels only to be consumed sparingly. Or that they were only reserved for the people who can afford them.
You are sick because you are plant-based, eating like a poor commoner.
You pay hundreds of dollars, millions of units of energy, to eat food that kills you.
To achieve perfect health and omniscience, to remove the shackles of dietary slavery, you must eat animals. You will never reach the top of the pyramid otherwise.
Maad TV was an autobiographical drama I created to study the mind under various substances in order to understand mental derangement. Seasons 1-3 are available on https://www.reddit.com/r/maadtv. This scene was recorded while I was under the influence of two tabs of acid and a handful of mushrooms. It is easier to see the visualizations when you are also under a similar state of intoxication, however, it is a very unstable and terrifying state and I do not recommend anyone try this at home.
Reality when tripping acid seems to be melting, and the everyone’s masks fall off. The people who are clearly Good or clearly Evil are easier to identify, and the ones who straddle the fence, tend to reveal shape-shifting behavior. I haven’t developed a proper theory of what these projections mean, and what they are saying similarly about my own neural anatomy under the influence but I believe this will be understood with better technology at a later date.
I’m targeting both psychopathy and sociopathy in this scene, and feel I was able to act out both properly.
Method acting, anyone who practices such a thing, requires a person to be so strongly connected to their own identity, lest their being morph into the character they become. I believe this happened to Heath Ledger and Anthony Hopkins, alongside Eminem and others in media, but this is only speculation.
One way to tap into these characters is to intoxicate the brain and cause a dissociation, and then swap the person’s ego-identity. This all revealed how harmful these drug substances are, and how they can be used to reprogram someone’s mind. We’ve seen such examples in movies, I believe The Winter Soldier is one of them and one could make a case for drug-induced psychotic breaks for weaponized humans. This is a very dark place, and I don’t know why it’s part of my mind at all, but if we are all connected, experiencing a self-similar type existence, then it is part of everyone else’s mind too, and that’s what makes it more scary.
I am but a reflection of you. If you find these videos uncomfortable or offensive, I suggest you meditate on what could be stirring up such discontent, and seek professional help.
There seems to be this underlying annoyance with my own impatience or my perceived inability to get exactly what I want out of this life. Supposedly this means that I’m not in the Wish Fulfilled, but let’s ignore the meta of this and really just address the emotions that I’m feeling.
I thought about it a lot, and if I am harassing him. If he feels harassed, then he’s harassed. If I texted him once a year and it was an initiation of contact he didn’t want, then that is harassment.
The annoying thing about being accused of something, is that your intention doesn’t matter. My intent is not to harass him, it’s to talk to him.
But. He’s not telling me no. And look at this line of thinking I’m having, it must be that I’m delusional at this point, and I can’t unsee it.
Because there must be something wrong with me, not only pursue men who don’t want me. And you know what that’s not even true.
I pursued and enjoyed Satya, but he continuously did shit to me so that my feelings for him went away, and I don’t know how to get them back and I don’t want them back.
Jason and I don’t talk about it truly, or what my feelings for him are. There’s never a discussion of it, or what I feel about it. And I’m supposed to just sit with it, and get over it or whatever. Block him out of my life and move on. Let go.
It feels bad at times, when I love him and all I want to do is hear his voice. He doesn’t have to see me, or fuck me or any of that, I just want to talk to him. Like a normal fucking person.
But ever since we started talking even when we were in contact, it was me as the bad guy. Like I did something wrong. I would ask him questions and he’d push me away, or just reject who I am, what I wanted to express and he would constantly stop me from expressing myself. Every time. He won’t let it come out. Or let me exorcise it, so that I may move on with my life. His constant pushing me away and forcing me suppress my actions just makes me want to retaliate. Emotionally, it’s hard to explain. I just feel like he’s making a bigger deal of it and always has. So what if I love you? Well good for fucking you, you are loved by me. Literally one of the most loving, caring, empathetic and passionate people I know. Someone who helps others even when I have nothing to give, someone who cares to inspire and reform. Someone who could fuck you the way you want, and love you beyond your dreams. You’re fucking lucky that I love you. That I want anything to do with you.
Now I have to hear my roommates having sex, and I’m somewhat sad about it. I want that. And what am I doing to get in my own way? What more work does there need to be done?
Now I’ve resorted to what? Laying in bed every night pretending that he wants to talk to me? That he wants anything to do with me? Constructing these stories in hopes that maybe one day he’ll give me a chance?
And so he says I’m harassing him. I say to him, “Do you want me to unfollow you?” and he says No.
What kind of shit is that. For my own healthy, I should. But I don’t want to. Because I enjoy him. And I will not deny myself what I want.
I act on impulse. I felt happy and good when I told him to call me, and I felt happy and good when we talked on the phone. But the come down, ha. The come down.
I’m not sad about it as I’m writing it, actually. I’m more annoyed that I am still attached to this person, that I find him so irresistible when I want to have these feelings for someone who actually wants them.
THAT is what’s frustrating about being in love with someone who doesn’t want you. It’s not desperation, it’s not low self-esteem. It’s like I’m following a trajectory that I didn’t choose, and I want off of this fucking train of thought.
At one point I was convinced he actually wanted to be in a relationship with me and that he was just… I have no idea what he was doing. At this point, I really don’t care.
I met this guy a few months ago, we hung out a few times and then my life started to get a bit unpredictable.
Here’s some backstory: I’ve been on the East Coast since March when my flight was cancelled back to the West coast. I could have picked up another flight, but decided to move on over. So, I’m over here with no friends at first, and it’s Covid so like even the prospect of making friends has been hard (I didn’t have social media at the time either, all of my accounts were empty/parked).
I start sending out messages on meetup subreddits to find people. I was looking for someone to make music with as I wanted to record an album before I went back to school in the fall.
Okay, so I meet this guy in May. We get really close really fast. I mean the first night we talk until like 8 in the morning or something. I’m not new to connections like this, and I know it doesn’t mean much of anything, but I did enjoy how comfortable I felt around him immediately.
We fool around, sex is amazing. He said some shit about being good at it and all that. Here’s where it starts getting fucked up and I should have paid attention to the narrative he was pushing on me.
One day we’re talking and he wants me to send him pics, sure. I send him like a shit ton of pics live-action (which I thought was pretty fun btw!) and then I ask him to send me ONE pic. Literally just one and he responds with “you’re obsessed.”
Okay I blew that off, but I was like “Who is this guy calling me fucking obsessed like what just for asking for a dick pic? Just say you didn’t want to take the goddamn pic man.”
I’m still looking for a place to settle down on the East coast, so I move up north just for the apartment reservation to fall out, and the subletter to kick me out with less than 48 hour notice. I had nowhere to go immediately, because I couldn’t afford a hotel until next paycheck so what do I do? I ask this guy if I could stay with him.
NOW I’m gonna be straightforward here. I did develop feelings for him and I admittedly wanted to have sex with him a lot, so he was the first person I thought of asking. He also was the only person I knew in the state at the time. Okay, he says no.
I search frantically for another place to live, sending applications through craigslist. The only response I get back within a reasonable timeframe (remember, I had to find a place fast, and I had basically no money yet) happened to be in this guy’s city. I don’t tell him, because he already thinks I’m “obsessed” with him, but I get the shit I have and go to the house I was supposed to rent.
Come to find out, it’s a scam. I call my sister and am like “Dude, I’m in this city. All of the shelters are closed. I don’t know where to go.” My sister says, “Call [that guy]
and I say “No, I can’t” and she eventually convinces me to call him.
We talk on the phone for a bit, and I was too afraid to even tell him that I was stranded at an abandoned house with nowhere to go, so we end the conversation.
That night, I sleep outside the abandoned house, and it’s like pouring fucking rain. I put all my stuff in the backyard and of course it’s ruined. Yeah, fuck. I still don’t call this guy.
The next morning I’m legit exhausted, and so I go to a CVS to charge my phone and find another place to stay. No luck yet, so I have to sleep outside again. That night, I decide, okay, fuck it I’m going to go to his house because I really am tired and just want to take a shower.
So, I’m headed over to his house (yeah it was walking distance, I swear to god I didn’t choose this shit it was just happening), and I knock on the door. He doesn’t answer, someone else does. He’s not home. This was like… in June.
I go back to my stuff and come to find out the cops took it because the neighbors were concerned about someone being on the property. (I had talked to the neighbors the night I showed up and they told me no one has lived in this house for years, so they knew I was being fucked over, yet still called the cops idk what that was about.)
Great. Now I have to stay in that damn city for the weekend until the cops come.
There’s a vigil/rally happening that weekend and I’m so fed up and angry at the police department for seizing my shit without even talking to me, that I try to do some sort of protest/freestyle at the stand. Fuck it, right? It was a BLM movement thing and I wanted to make some sort of contribution. I also have this deep-seeded desire to be famous, so like I wanted recognition.
That night I was able to get some funds to get a uber and move to another place. Finally. I stay at this airbnb for the month of June, writing songs on my bass (he fucking suggested I buy a bass so we could make music together, btw) about what was happening to me. At this time I decided to stop messaging the guy because he said he wanted to focus on himself and all that, and I respected that.
So I started putting the songs online, actually really proud of myself because I had never recorded music and put it online before and some of the songs were about our encounters (I’m talking like 4 out of the 27 I had uploaded at the time). He finds the website and then tells me to take my shit down because I mentioned revealing information about him and it was an invasion of his privacy.
I agreed with that to an extent, but I took the music down. To be fair, no one really knew about this account, but I made a donation to a linked account and he found me there. Like wtf, I didn’t even expect him to find it ever because I never sent that shit to him or anyone.
Fair enough, so here I am taking the shit down and we have sort of a discussion about it, I’m like “damn I feel bad I don’t want him to think poorly of me” and I was still also pretty happy about my music.
Anyway, a month passed and it’s time for me to move out of the airbnb back south to where I wanted to go to school. I set up an arrangement with some woman and was getting all of my stuff to meet. I go to see my room and she bails at the last minute saying “I don’t want to live with a musician because of the noise” and I’m like… wtf. WHAT.
I end up stranded AGAIN, having to find a place at the last minute, and with Covid all of this shit is shut down. I book an airbnb and the person says they’re not taking guests, but yet the transaction went through and I lost all the money I had for a room.
Sigh. So I’m sleeping outside again. AGAIN. I call this guy up because I’m like fuck this. I ask him if I could sleep on his floor or if he knew someone who could host me. I don’t know what’s going on in his mind, but like… whatever. He seems to think I want to live with him and takes me asking for help as something incredibly personal. Like no I just legit need a place to stay so I can stop sleeping outside.
I figured it’s time for me to get on social media, because not having any contacts in this state I realized was contributing to this problem. I start with his social media and just add anyone else connected. I did it because of proximity, figuring I could meet someone who could help me and still be close.
WITHIN LIKE 10 MINUTES, he messages me talking about “why are you following all of my friends on social media” and I’m like “fucking I don’t know anyone in this state!!!!!!!” 10 MINUTES. WHY IS HE GOING THROUGH MY GODDAMN FOLLOWING LIST IN THE FIRST PLACE.
You know what’s so fucked up about it? He ASKED ME to follow him when we first met, but I told him I didn’t use social media and that the accounts were inactive.
So now we have another conversation, and he’s basically like stop revolving your life around me or some shit. And I’m like ??? Fuck off how about you sleep outside in this humid ass fucking weather with no friends while the police department takes all of your shit then tell me about livelihood.
So anyway, I apologize again and I don’t talk to him. Now it just seems like he contacts me just to tell me to stay away from him, pushing the narrative of me following him or something.
Alright, so it’s now August, and we last talked in early July. I make a post telling someone to tell him to call me. I’m not sure if he has me blocked on the phone but he knows I follow him on this social media shit, so whatever.
I end up not paying attention to my phone for a bit, and come back to like… 20+ missed calls. LEGIT who the fuck DOES THAT.
I send him a voicemail telling him that I love him and that I’m sorry.
He calls me back later telling me to stop harassing him.
What the fuck.
But you just called me like a couple dozen fucking times?
Hi pot, meet the goddamn kettle.
There was a guy I hooked up with a few times, who over time is only becoming more and more irresistible to me. I deliberately backed away from him, because I didn’t want to be too invested and he said he wanted to take a break from the sex, but I can’t help but still want him.
And it’s not just wanting sex, because I could get sex from anyone. It’s wanting him. This guy in particular. So much so that I tear up thinking about it.
There was a time where I wanted to blow him so bad that I just started crying. What the fuck even is that? It’s like every molecule of me wants to interact with his.
I’m not just attracted to the stereotypical parts either. I mean I think every single inch of his body is attractive. If I somehow ended up of a picture of his left ear, or… his toe or something… I would still find it to be a turn-on, because every part of him sexually charges me.
I miss him a lot and I miss something we hadn’t even had yet. I love him at every size and every haircut, and it’s like no matter what he looks like I would find him attractive.
I almost masturbated to a picture of his face. Just his face. Which, first of all I don’t masturbate to pictures at all, but the fact that I was just focused on his face. I get hypnotized by it, I can’t even describe what it is.
But we don’t talk much. We’re friendly, but I’m not going out of my way to check up on him and I’m really scared of losing him forever so I decided to basically never reach out. In my mind I think I would do anything to see him happy and if he’s happier in life without me, then I’ll take that too. I mean this. I am simply happy that he exists as a person and his happiness is enough for me.
I used to get turned on by thinking of him fucking other people, until I got sad because I miss him and now.
I just don’t think I’ll ever really speak to him again, and I’ve never been so attracted to anyone in my life. My description isn’t even doing him justice. He’s the sexiest person I’ve ever met.