Tagged with mental state

I touched a cat today.

I’ve officially survived another Texan Winter Apocalypse. The last one brought cobble ice, this one brought rolling blackouts and a wesk long sleep for me. for the first time in my life I felt the cold my bones.it was a pretty lack luster apocalypse on my end. I was coming down last weekend when it started, so I just kind of slid into a sleep and woke up a couple days later in the midst of snow that hadn’t gone anywhere for a few days.

Today, in typical Texan fashion, temperatures were up in the high 70s and everything melted away and it felt like spring. I’m half assed quitting cigarettes and not very good on self control (obviously). Took the excuse to get out in the good weather to go get a pack. There is nothing like a fresh pack of PallMall menthol 100s.Smoking the first one of a break of about a week and a half, I was sitting at the picnic table underneath our building when a wish of mine was granted.

Ever since Fiona passed on a couple years ago, and the Huies gave up on me, I have been lacking in contact with a feline. A large part of my soul is aligned with cats. And there is a litter of kittens that has been growing up around my place for the past couple months. The urge to pet and touch one has been burning bright in my cosmos since I first saw them. Sitting outside, smoking my cig, a grey one walked up to me and rubbed against my leg.

My heart soared. It’s still soaring. I touched a cat.

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Every morning..

This is finally a glimpse of what I’ve been slowly building towards in my addled easily distractable manner, fudging about in termux, trying to get my laptop on a decent stable distro of linux, and searching high and low through the silver waves of ethernet for pieces of self-discolsure. i’m going to spend the next couple hours in Bitsy and try to tell a somewhat personal and yet interactive story. seem’s to be the most simple of plans, but it took me a fair minute to find an appropriate container to do this.

I ran across Bitsy about a month ago, and the ethos and vibe I got from it was that the developer wants it to be used to tell personal stories through interactive “gameplay.” sounds right up my alley. some of the best stories I have ever encountered have been through video games of various sorts. Usually in a genre or format that would not be a usual suspect for deep all-encompassing story immersion: see Risk of Rain and Nier: Automata.

Bitsy is simple and uncluttered on the first “boot” into the editor. You have a welcome blurb with links, your scene editor, sprite/block/item editor, color selection and a save component. Tools are readily available from a menu along the top and you’re left to your own devices to discover what the tool can do for you. I’ve spent a fair amount of time creating my first scene and setting up the dialog that plays to tell the story. As I explore more of the application, the more intricacies were revealed and it becomes more complex each time I click a new button.

I think I named my first game, “Every morning at 6:38…” I want to in a slightly overt fashion capture my state of mind that happens when I’ve been up all night by myself following rabbit holes and find that daybreak is upon me and a new day is beginning while the old day is still progressing. A singular feeling fills me up knowing that the real world is waking and the machinery of day-to-day starts itself up, while I continue to coexist with myself onboard the Starship Shelled. The idea of the game is a linear path that the player walks along and see’s various scenes of the “real world” while random musings of mine pop up at different squares they could walk over.

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mind stress

Ugh fuck. Too much of nothing and I’m bleeding out stress. I exude and become one with it. Mind stress. I’m clean but not sober, haven’t had any meth in a good while, and I’m losing my goddamn mind. Time slowly marches onward and I feel the slow passing of the seconds like knife cuts across my skin. I can’t go anywhere due to COVID, can’t have any company due to COVID, so I just sit in my room or sleep in my room. The only break in the monotony are meal times (8, 12, 5) and when I go outside in the heat to smoke a black and mild or vape on my stick. I’m broke, the very definition of broke, and that limits my options even further. I’m stuck in this moment and this moment will never end.

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out of sequence

Your adventures are leading you closer and closer to the abyss. The center cannot endure. The exit portal is slowly closing and you are running out of time. Window for escape will soon be non existent.

As always, this will be prefaced by the statement “I don’t know if I’m hallucinating, going crazy, or it’s actually happening.”” No side gives it more validity than the others. The ethereal plane’s border between itself and my world is quickly erroding. Specific events stand out in my mind: + During the last comedown and sleeping marathon that followed, deep in sleep, my being/soul/essence was brushed/touched/steeped by some form of the pure evil in the universe. I woke up in tears and scared down to the bone. + During my last Dallas excursion, I was walking somewhere in what I remember as being near Northpark Mall. Black Man Mouthpiece walked by in the opposite direction and as we passed one another, out of his mouth came the words: “Watch yourself, lot of (strange/weird) activity up that way” and kept walking his way. Being high, I turned around and yelled @ him: “Police activity?” He turned back to me with a “What?” to which I replied “5. O. You know, the Cops?” Still standing there, he stared at me for a little bit, couple seconds max, then yelled back “I have no idea what you’re talking about, man” turned and walked away. It seems ever since his warning and my continuance in that direction I was headed, things have progressively gotten more weird and more mystical. + Sex & being around Doug was a very mystical experience. Whether it was the medical grade got and CBD oil combo… Or it really happened, I slept with a being that was not totally human. His cock grew to tremendous sizes when it was in me and I truly worshipped him when I was sucking him. He fed off that supplication and appreciated it. He gave me clothes to wear at the end of it…. and I’ve felt oddly protected by them since.

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What do i stand to lose

What is it about this drug and lifestyle that holds my attention? The loss of normal boundaries. The desire to break social norms and the feeling of revelling in that desire. The shift of focus from real world goals and desires to full on cumslut unsatiableness. The continual evasion of reality and hiding my mind and sheltering my soul in a fantasy world.

I could go on and on. The allure is strong and the pull is definitely real. My mind apparently hasn’t given up its fascination with the entire process of using and being used by my bitch, Tina. The last time, when I touched the devil…. or it touched me, I thought that had soured my taste for the entire process. Fuck. I want to get to me rock bottom. I want it to be real, and visceral, and lasting.

What do I stand to lose?

  • My Mother. Her willingness to help me. Her proximity to my being and soul. Her trust in my ability to grow up.
  • More of my teeth. Two down already. A third on its way out.
  • What remains of my health. I’m bad at taking my HIV meds on my best of days. I think it’s been about two months since I last took them. Two months of missed doses, on top of the months (?) during the end of last year. All i do is put meth into my body and barely eat. I don’t work out or put any effort into maintaining my body OR mind.
  • I haven’t owned or driven my own car since… March or April of 2018. It is now February 2020. Going on TWO years now that I’ve been immobile and “self-stuck” in my same situation and location and quickly diminishing playground.
  • I’m 35 and am severely lacking in very important areas of my life. I have $1.06 to my name and no prospects. I’m single and cannot fathom any kind of intimate relationship with another human being. My social skills revolve around drug use and the PNP ifestyle. I’m unemployed and cannot hold down a job for any meaningful length of time.
  • A reasonable perspective on sex and sexual relationships. I’m already at the point where I freak out and have major anxiety over what to do in my “game” prior to sex. How to engage that part of my being without that special starter fluid. It’s been so goddamned long since I travelled that path without enhancements.
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