Suboxone Mind-Blow

Things sure do speak to me. Online.

The last few hours of thought with my eyes closed have been night short of revolutionary. My mind is blown. I don’t know how much I can recall but it was things like, metacognition, and presence, and space, and thought. Thought about thought. It was immense. So powerful. Connecting with the human species on an intellectual level, without having touched anyone yet. There, provided there are others out there willing to hear me, I have some amazing things to share with them.

I’ll try to denote some of my epiphanies in my next book of poetry. The first one, we’ll say it was a test. I do believe I will, provided this keeps up and the genius keeps flowing, attract a following on this blog. Thank you to those of you who are already following.

Any itemized thoughts from the past naptime? I can’t remember. If only telepathy. If only, and for once it seems potentially like a good thing. But I’ve explored the dark side so thoroughly, have I not? Is this some sort of balancing game? I need to go out on a limb less because thoughts still hurt me, palpably. I need to be safer. For now, I’m still schizoaffective. And things can hurt me. Mentally. It’s strange. Thoughts can hurt me. A lot. To explain it in layman’s terms. So that is that.

But I am developing defense mechanisms. I am learning to identify my triggers (which are more patterns in event space than things) and to take proactive measures to dodge them (there’s often only a few milliseconds to avoid it). I’m building buffers between me and the negativity, and I felt guilty about it for a long time–this thought hurts me even–but, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I, an individual with some freedom vested in me, have opted to build defensive structures in my mind to protect me from that which hurts me and causes me to be mentally ill. It makes sense.

I think this is not the last time I will have epiphanies like this. I am returning to normal, and I have been stimulating my mind for some time. Plus, you can always go the traditional route and just read a lot of philosophy books. I might want to do that. I understand what the purpose of that is, now. To be a genius, in short. And I see the value in that, if the masses do not.

“The masses” is a horrifying concept. And to boot, I have to keep reminding myself that some thoughts are utter paranoia.

But yeah, this set of half-sleep was miraculous. If only I could have had a stenographer available in my dreams.

So anyway, when do I take risks and what are the dangers, of a regular life, you know? Do I have the right not to be overly brave? I want things simple and safe. I don’t know where I stand in the spectrum/population in this regard.

I’ll have to put forth just a tad of advertising to get the flow of followers started but I foresee that after that it should be fairly stead.

If it were, it would be great to be able to claim that I, once a schizoaffective depressive, am now an intellectual.

And really, there oughtn’t not be any harm in civil discussions ever, really, honestly, so why and HOW ON EARTH did I get that crazy idea in my head.

I’m too scared.


Good day, after all.

More pain this evening, I foresee. More evasive maneuvers to keep me in as little psychological pain and agony as possible. My psychiatrist wants me to tough it out for until like a week so we know if off the ktea/kratom has drastically improved my situation. This is his hypothesis.

I’m scared about all of this, granted. And I feel like others are scared of me, for how I have reacted at times to my fear.

Hmm. It’s complicated.

At least I have goals. To carry me through. But yeah, I have far too many fears and anxieties. I think this might be the first time I have acknowledged my fears, to be frank? I didn’t know there were so many. I didn’t know there were any. It totally went under the radar. Anxiety I was aware of. But it went all the way to fear.

Another goal: Be myself. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Devilishly tricky, with a mental illness.

At least I have the fortitude to be brave about declaring my condition. I don’t know, mom’s and dad’s of the world would calll me foolish, but they’re always more conservative than the younger generation, innit so.

Why not keep going? That is a good one to ask myself? I sense anger so frequently. This is why I have pondered removing certain things and people from my life. As best I can. But sometimes I really am codependent. It’s not good. I won’t mention the topic for now but yeah, something to discuss. But it could all of it be a schizophrenic block. Fear.

I have some tasks to perform tonight but maybe I will just let my nausea come to a standstill recovery. Hmm.

Unresolved issues really nag at me.

You all know me better than I do by now. I’m somewhat angry that you haven’t shared your findings with me. I need to know myself better, because I’m confused who I even am. But here we are, at the truth: No one is listening. No matter how convinced I am they are, no one is.

Check the visit stats. Two from the other side of the planet. One from America. THIS is reality. And if I want to know, I look it up HERE. Foolish. I have been so foolish.

I have to cut this short. I’ve got places to be. Thanks.

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