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Stasis Trap

CONTENT WARNING: Hate speech.


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Father, Who Raised Me and Now Doesn’t Know What to Do

He raised me

And all he can say now is, “Get a job”?

Guess how he raised me.

He uttered a single word.

And I don’t know what that word is.

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Let’s Burn Some Tinder

That’s how you get the sandwurm to eat you

You hit your vape at meaningful and predictable moments

In your brother’s dreams

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You Should Have Showed It

I killed myself.

I am not around any longer.

If you liked me you should have showed it.

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I’m on vacation and my family is enemies again. The view from the room is alright but my mother doesn’t like it because you can see a garage from it. I didn’t get sunburnt yet. I can’t stand my brothers’ or mom’s voice. It hurts to hear them talk. A lot of negative force/energy being thrown at me, too. Sort of like, energy, pure energy, or psychic force.

Work has been alright so far. No horrific psychotic episodes at the company yet. If that happens, I don’t know, I guess I just have to call sick and go home. Is that a plan?

I could itemize all the problems my family has. Why they’re bad people. But for some reason I feel no need to do that.

I wish I had something to talk about. I’m on vacation and I have nothing to talk about. I wish my medication worked better.

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Economics and the family (two topics, not related)

Barriers to entry are probably the worst economic force. Really hinders creative growth.

I would be such a good economics professor / economist.

First off: Why does a company’s stock price reflect its value or performance? So far no one on the internet or in my family has been able to answer this simple question. It’s broadly assumed a fact, so I’m worried it’s an unstable foundation of modern economics. Very dangerous.

Second off: I actually don’t have any other ideas right now. Come back later.

Btw family harassing me all day. I don’t understand where they get the energy, motivation, and how they do it.

My family is comprised of really really bad people, in case you were wondering. At least I’m saving money living with them! And it’s “safer”.

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This place is sort of the unofficial log of my schizophrenia. I am diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder but I’m not depressed anymore so I think the diagnosis should be changed to bona fide schizophrenia but they didn’t do that because psychiatry is an ineffectuate shitshow. I can’t stay in my room too long because of the ants. What I mean is, there aren’t actual ants here, but I am antsy. I am restless. I can’t just sit or stand and enjoy being alive. I am not happy to be alive. There is nothing to be happy about, and I am not happy about nothing. My mood is not too good. The voices show hints of starting in the afternoon and progress pretty seriously, regularly, in the evening. So that’s like around four to five or probably sooner is more accurate, as I am wont to dumb things down and make everything seem rosy when it’s not. No one knows who I am, and they say they understand my condition but they don’t. My dad doesn’t even think I have one. He’s opted for the conspiracy theory one, where the government intelligent agencies are using advanced technology to disrupt my cognitive patterns. His too. He has schizophrenia, paranoid, but his is undiagnosed and he doesn’t want to believe it’s a medical condition. He’s never done drugs so he has no idea how powerful the human mind is. I have so I have a hint, but even if I hadn’t I think I would still be convinced it’s a medical condition. But I’m not. When I’m schizophrenic, I believe voices are real, and I’ve given up trying to explain how they happen. I.e. what their mechanism is. So my condition is calling and I can’t write anymore right now. My instincts are fucked, I get called by them to get up and walk down the stairs, go outside, vape a few minutes, go back inside, sit at the computer, realize I have nothing to do here, vape a little, go back outside downstairs, repeat the whole process ad nauseum. I can’t read. I envy, really really, people who love reading. It’s such a rewarding peaceful thing. My mind is not at peace. I have to go back to work in a month and I hope I will probably be able to, but I don’t anticipate my condition leaving any time soon. I think this may be permanent. I think I just don’t have a life anymore.