Everyone fears the cut of the blade. It doesn't matter after that. I know the spirit survives as there is so much evidence of the survival of the personality in the afterlife. Dan Aykroyd

 

Cursing is invoking the assistance of a spirit to help you inflict suffering. Swearing on the other hand, is invoking, only the witness of a spirit to an statement you wish to make. John Ruskin

 

In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

Reality

I have been diagnosed with chronic schizophrenia with social anxious dependence disorder. Life with permanent cannabis induced psychosis can be extremely challenging for me.

One of my early psychotic symptoms was actually induced by an old manga cartoon. I would smoke my marijuana and watch it over, and over in my psychotic state 

I couldn't interact with anyone. Words had 'double meanings', or alternate meanings. I would run out of the house and hide down the road whenever my mother and her partner would come around out of panic.

The language complex had a rebound effect on my mother's partner at the time, he would understand "come" or "come here", as "cum", as in "cum here."

As a misophonia sufferer, other's noise sends shockwaves of anxious panic through my entire body, but I feel it mostly in my throat, like my throat is sinking because of the feeling of dread. 

This is one of many accompanying psychotic conditions.

I saw a girl and looked her in the eyes. Her appearance was like cracks in a muddy dried up desert. This is hell on earth.

Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today. James Dean

 

To exact revenge for yourself or your friends is not only a right, it's an absolute duty. Stieg Larsson

 

My constant companion

I live in a self fulfilling prophecy where karma works against me. Every interaction I have is a bad experience. I'm completely isolated because of my allergy to everyone that exists

I fail at everything I attempt. Life is a "cunt"

I use the word "cunt" but there's no word in known language that fits it. It is as evil as evil can get. This is hell on earth.

I'm in a constant state of dread because of the fear and hate I have for what I have to live with. I am invalidated by everyone. I'm in a constant state of disempowerment.

I can't kill myself because the psychosis is too extreme. The only possible escape is death. Even then, I believe the powers to be will still torture me, and when it stops it is gathering it's strength so it can wipe me out in my process of dying, the kind of hell no creation would ever deserve, but that is what's in store for me.

“Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say ‘My heart is broken.’” ― C.S. Lewis

 

A revolution can be neither made nor stopped. The only thing that can be done is for one of several of its children to give it a direction by dint of victories.

 Napoleon Bonaparte

Melancholia

There’s a certain kind of sadness that doesn’t shout. It doesn’t scream or cry out for help. It’s the kind of sadness that sits beside you like an old, familiar friend, whispering nothing at all. The pit of despair, where no one can hear you scream.

The untouched coffee.
The unwashed hair.
That sinking feeling caught in the pit of your chest and throat.

It’s waking up and immediately yearning to go back to sleep, not out of tiredness, but because consciousness feels like a burden. It’s the aching quiet of being alone

Melancholia doesn’t come with reasons that make sense. It drifts in on a cloudy morning, settles like dust on your things. It makes everything feel boring. Like the colors have dulled. Like your memories are wrapped in fog. Even joy feels like it’s echoing from a place too far away to reach.

You won’t stay here forever. The sky does clear. It always will

"In that dark place, there's no such thing as optimism."

I do not like the human race. I don't like their heads, I don't like their faces, I don't like their feet, I don't like their conversations, I don't like their hairdos, I don't like their automobiles. Read more at

 Charles Bukowski