Schizoflipper

In all seriousness, I really do have problems.  I shall call them part of the cloudiness, the mass of mental sickness that is taking place in my mind.  When the cloudiness first showed up, I refused to mention it to anyone. I would maybe let on that I was possibly depressed, but let people know that I suddenly realized that the guy next to me was reading my mind? Or that my roommate had a camera in our room so she could spy on me? Or that I would hallucinate while talking to my friends so that I would hear them say awful things about me to my face?

Let me tell you how lovely these are.  I came to realize that none of them were true at all (except that camera, only one I can't prove to be wrong; and I say this in a completely comical, not-serious manner), but it still made them difficult to deal with, especially when they began to affect the conversations I would have with my friends. 

Which, seriously, guys? All that shit happened and you still were surprised to find out that Little Water here is a crazy head?

Many of the things I say sound ridiculous, like how my dad is a pothead, or how my sister gets the blood beat out of her whenever she's with her baby daddy, but they are true! What sick freak would make shit up like that?!  And who would make up hallucinating fairies going through their stuff? Or that someone took a dump on the bridge?

I'm not smart; by all means, I may even be an idiot, but if I lie, it is either obviously intentional to make someone else in the wrong, or it is a lie without my knowledge.

Yet people always act like I'm lying. I can read the body language, I notice the slight head tosses and rollings of the eyes. I can see your eyebrow twitch, and hear your voice widen. I'm one of the best physical language readers I've ever met (which is ironic because I can't even figure out what I'm screaming at myself in my own head). 

It's because of this that I don't talk about the cloudiness anymore.  I'm having problems, but when I mention them, I get dismissed. I know... I know better than this, but I *know* that I changed the speed of time. Like, it's in my head, it's what I think, but while I know it can't be true, it's a truth in my head. And it scares me. I don't know how stable it is anymore, but I do know that because of my own stupidity I'm gonna be old and dead any moment now. Minutes are now mere seconds, and my ability to complete tasks in a timely manner is shot. My mind is moving at the same old, normal speed, but my body, the world, the time, it's going on faster than ever.  And yet no one has noticed.

It's embarrassing to talk about this, but it's absolutely insulting and aggravating to confide in someone and then to be dismissed like I'm craving attention.  I don't even want to talk to my counselor about it.

But it is time for me to go.


"If it weren't for the rocks in its bed, the stream would have no song." -Carl Perkins

Pathetic Lad

Someone took a dump on the bridge that I have to cross to get to some of my classes. I want to ask, how drunk do you have to be?! But then I remember that someone took a dump on a couch at my high school right after a wrestling meet...

A hypnotist came to my school, and a friend of mine bought one of his CD's. He ripped it and gave me the hard copy. I decided to listen to it. I do not remember anything from between when the guy was putting me under and when the guy was counting down from five to wake me up. I couldn't move my arm for the rest of the day without pain shooting from my elbow to my hand and back.

To the slow ones out there, the arm pain wasn't from the hypnotist messing with me. It was because of the way I was lying on my desk. This should seem obvious, but I've already encountered two situations where I had to explain this.

I've learned that when I'm raging, I shouldn't talk to my friends. Now one of them is avoiding talking to me. I wasn't angry at that friend, but he sure got to listen to me rage about other things.

Part of the rage was due to this jerk in one of my classes. He showed up late one day, took an excessive amount of time to close the door quietly, came over to where I was sitting, bumped into me and my classmate, picked up my backpack (which was leaning against my chair), threw it behind my classmate (who was on the other side of me), got in the empty seat next to me, sat down, and put his backpack on the other side of him. I made mostly empty plans of stabbing him in the leg with my pen if he decided to do it again. Instead, he sat next to someone else and made those people miserable. I now understand why someone introduced him to the class as "This is Cook, he has no friends."

Which really happened. I promise. Except I changed the name.

Tonight I found out that my dorm is perfect for hot boxing. The air vents in our rooms take the air from our room, cool it down or heat it up, and place it back in our room. The only way you get new air is if you open your door or window.  I found this out because the smell of pot has been exploring my building this evening, and a friend of mine's father works for the campus maintenance. We concluded that either someone was getting high in front of an input vent in a hall, or was walking around while high.  My bet is on the latter due to the irregular schedule of the odor visiting my hallway.

My room is finally clean, and my homework is finally almost done, so if my work schedule is light this weekend, I might just be able to finally transform my room into a castle. This is very exciting.

Every day, I increasingly feel that my friends think I'm lying about everything I say.  I know I stretch the truth a bit sometimes, but someone really did take a dump on the bridge. That asshole really did throw my backpack. I really do know what hot boxing is. This is why I can't tell them that I sped time up, and that I can't figure out how to slow it back down again.

I'm serious about that. I can't figure it out. They're gonna be mad when they find out life is short because I got impatient once.

"I stand up next to a mountain, and I, I chop it down with the edge of my hand." -Jimi Hendrix