poor wayfaring stranger

Yesterday was a brutally psychotic day. I maintained my composure fairly well, and went through with all my obligations. Worked all day and exercised at night. But goddamn.

A big problem I have is that I believe the voices are really the people around me, and if they are the people around me, then I fucking hate those people. They are terrible people, and none of my interactions with the voices could be characterized as “good faith” exchanges on their part. So it makes me hate people in general. This furthers my social isolation, and possibly exacerbates my psychotic symptoms.

What’s least credible about it is that they’re constantly criticizing or commenting on my thoughts and feelings and behaviors, but I never hear them criticize anyone else. A voice could brutally attack me, calling me a pussy for being a victim of police brutality for instance (a story for another time, perhaps), and they all just watch me to see how I’ll respond. And it’s not like they don’t criticize things; they criticize me constantly. Like we learned from Copernicus and Darwin, a world-view that puts you at the center is likely wrong.

I don’t have an answer to any of this. I’m just going to carry on, and try to keep my focus on my work. Nothing else has done me any good. My face is kinda built to carry sadness. So that’s a plus.

Edit: I’m transcribing some old journals over into digital files so I can back them up, and I just came across the following line:

“I’d rather be sad than an asshole.”

That’ll do, pig.