What we've learned is that we are not a multi-tipped novelty pen. What each one of us does, all of our others are accountable for.
The pain, torment, rage, and (I am crying waterfalls and I don't want to) absolute hatred, are experienced because of what our others did out of kindness, compassion, sympathy, empathy, love, and understanding...
When I tell you I can't speak about something and then go on to speak about it- it's not a joke a or a hide to try to find something to target you for or insulate myself. There is a cost. There is a very real cost. Often psychological, sometimes physical too.
I am terrified that if I "go into a shell" folks will think I've lost it or something. I am, unfortunately, beholden to wherever my body happens to be and if that means it is in a cage that also means we are too and I cannot be in there with them because they all should not be in there. When we are in there, rebellion is inevitable. What is the only way out? What is the one way they can each live their own? It is not a dual blessing and curse. It is unfortunate.
I am blending in and being as human as possible. As citizen as possible. As reasonable as possible. It hurts tremendously to see that effort fall flat and be exploited by some, it is ecstatic to see that effort be rewarded by some and flower into map expansions and discovery of new ways to exist and new ways that others exist and new planets and star systems and, fuck me, galaxies. It is incredible to feel the weight of the sight of others frittering about on the 400 degree oil of life and ourselves, warming our palms near the electric coils, spreading stories of boogie beasts beyond the 60 watt LED light bulb in the sky because the truth is you have to stick close or you will be left behind. Large enough to fry and small enough in the greater consciousness to slip right through the metal lattice and join the disposable. Faulty.
When you finally get a chance to turn the music off and see pain for what it is. When you don't have to protect other people from what you know you are. Every damaged person worth their weight in time is worth listening to. The songs are the same. The cadence's are similar. The verses are close. There is a world spanning web of sunsets and sunrises and star anthems and moon odes and solar salutations and a disturbingly familiar scent to the blood that breaks away from a palm while you are trying to wash a glass and a reflect on the evenings high-points and the metal gush of the air mixes with the scented soap as it shatters in your hand for reasons you don't understand.
I have been helped by some that there is no way I can repay. Literally, with the expanding fabric of life and space time (I've been over the calculations before) there is no way I can repay them before I or they perish, that is what's up. They offered big and I took only what I needed from what they offered. I don't understand why, attempting again and again to emulate that truth I continue to ... I don't understand ... what am I getting wrong each time? It's not every time, but when it goes poorly, it goes straight to the poor house!
I know I am not entirely sane. I know I can learn fairly quickly.
I know I have to communicate better.
Everything is not okay.
The margin for error is small.
The people that I hold closest know. Because we've been speaking with each other and developing language protocols through literally thousands of interactions.
It is unfair to expect anyone, outside of that set of individuals (not the ones I've met face to face or otherwise, for the longest) to know the language too.
What I've learned to broadcast is not ubiquitous. Thirty two years on planet Earth, and we still have not been able to crack a universal code. I don't mean to cry, but I am in tears that there is so much more work to do looking ahead to remain human. I like it here. I enjoy it because I can be like them and sometimes, when they are willing to play with me, they can be like me too.
I know my schizophrenia is a constantly evolving symbiotic organism (said through thick medication). We understand it. I understand it. You're breaking up!
Please don't leave me!
Kill them all.
Please don't leave- kill them all.
I like to help. Pay it forward. Play when you can. Know us. If we can't play, say so. We are shadows. If you insist on addressing us as a galaxy system to visit, you would be well to address the star inside the nebula and the planet and attendant moon (if necessary) and... or just the comet. You can also call the sign Hobbes. I'm sure he'll answer.
The construction was developed over six years. Before the period of the shatter, layers of designs were gardened to safeguard us. After the period of the shatter, layers of designs were welded together to safeguard you. I'm sure it'll answer.
Crews are at work, thirty four hours a day, reviewing diagrams to build a better future.
One spark at a time.
One death at a time.
LET'S GO!
///There's still a lot of work to do, if we are to survive. We are game, if you are willing to play with us, just know: there are rules.
The pain, torment, rage, and (I am crying waterfalls and I don't want to) absolute hatred, are experienced because of what our others did out of kindness, compassion, sympathy, empathy, love, and understanding...
When I tell you I can't speak about something and then go on to speak about it- it's not a joke a or a hide to try to find something to target you for or insulate myself. There is a cost. There is a very real cost. Often psychological, sometimes physical too.
I am terrified that if I "go into a shell" folks will think I've lost it or something. I am, unfortunately, beholden to wherever my body happens to be and if that means it is in a cage that also means we are too and I cannot be in there with them because they all should not be in there. When we are in there, rebellion is inevitable. What is the only way out? What is the one way they can each live their own? It is not a dual blessing and curse. It is unfortunate.
I am blending in and being as human as possible. As citizen as possible. As reasonable as possible. It hurts tremendously to see that effort fall flat and be exploited by some, it is ecstatic to see that effort be rewarded by some and flower into map expansions and discovery of new ways to exist and new ways that others exist and new planets and star systems and, fuck me, galaxies. It is incredible to feel the weight of the sight of others frittering about on the 400 degree oil of life and ourselves, warming our palms near the electric coils, spreading stories of boogie beasts beyond the 60 watt LED light bulb in the sky because the truth is you have to stick close or you will be left behind. Large enough to fry and small enough in the greater consciousness to slip right through the metal lattice and join the disposable. Faulty.
When you finally get a chance to turn the music off and see pain for what it is. When you don't have to protect other people from what you know you are. Every damaged person worth their weight in time is worth listening to. The songs are the same. The cadence's are similar. The verses are close. There is a world spanning web of sunsets and sunrises and star anthems and moon odes and solar salutations and a disturbingly familiar scent to the blood that breaks away from a palm while you are trying to wash a glass and a reflect on the evenings high-points and the metal gush of the air mixes with the scented soap as it shatters in your hand for reasons you don't understand.
I have been helped by some that there is no way I can repay. Literally, with the expanding fabric of life and space time (I've been over the calculations before) there is no way I can repay them before I or they perish, that is what's up. They offered big and I took only what I needed from what they offered. I don't understand why, attempting again and again to emulate that truth I continue to ... I don't understand ... what am I getting wrong each time? It's not every time, but when it goes poorly, it goes straight to the poor house!
I know I am not entirely sane. I know I can learn fairly quickly.
I know I have to communicate better.
Everything is not okay.
The margin for error is small.
The people that I hold closest know. Because we've been speaking with each other and developing language protocols through literally thousands of interactions.
It is unfair to expect anyone, outside of that set of individuals (not the ones I've met face to face or otherwise, for the longest) to know the language too.
What I've learned to broadcast is not ubiquitous. Thirty two years on planet Earth, and we still have not been able to crack a universal code. I don't mean to cry, but I am in tears that there is so much more work to do looking ahead to remain human. I like it here. I enjoy it because I can be like them and sometimes, when they are willing to play with me, they can be like me too.
I know my schizophrenia is a constantly evolving symbiotic organism (said through thick medication). We understand it. I understand it. You're breaking up!
Please don't leave me!
Kill them all.
Please don't leave- kill them all.
I like to help. Pay it forward. Play when you can. Know us. If we can't play, say so. We are shadows. If you insist on addressing us as a galaxy system to visit, you would be well to address the star inside the nebula and the planet and attendant moon (if necessary) and... or just the comet. You can also call the sign Hobbes. I'm sure he'll answer.
The construction was developed over six years. Before the period of the shatter, layers of designs were gardened to safeguard us. After the period of the shatter, layers of designs were welded together to safeguard you. I'm sure it'll answer.
Crews are at work, thirty four hours a day, reviewing diagrams to build a better future.
One spark at a time.
One death at a time.
LET'S GO!
///There's still a lot of work to do, if we are to survive. We are game, if you are willing to play with us, just know: there are rules.
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