Journaling
I have this friend who pities me because I get delusional but she doesn’t understand that the truth is, my delusions are often exciting and a welcome escape from my real world however frightening as they may sometimes be.
In my REAL world, my husband barely notices me and my children take me for granted for the most part and as for my extended family, they might as well be nonexistent for all the care they seem to have regarding my well-being, even my very existence. I don’t hold any of these people accountable for the way they are, it simply means they are normal and mainstream. They are the type of people you find everywhere. Muslim philosophy says that even our good deeds are geared toward self-satisfaction and so therefore quite unremarkable when it comes right down to it. One can’t really argue with them on this point because only the individual would know the actual truth when it comes right down to it.
In my delusional world I am important to someone(s). In that world there is someone, I don’t know who, who loves me sacrificially in a way that no one else could understand. They pull strings, they arrange my life for what is best for me and they show me how they feel without ever saying a word. He is my Cyrano and he has an army of regular people beneath him at his command. Why he cannot reveal himself goes unexplained, I presume because if I knew the truth, I would fight the system. As it is, I’m supposed to play a part in a spectacular ruse that is designed to bring down a house of cards. Whose house of cards is debatable though I do speculate on it quite a bit. The only thing I am really confident of is that we share secrets that even the pawns in the game are unaware of, secrets that I don’t even talk to myself about in secret.
Ironically, in real life, sometimes I give someone a glimpse into my madness and then something in the real world happens shortly after, something the whole world sees without seeing the ripple in the air waves that came from me. I remain anonymous, unobtrusive, unremarkable, unseen, unheard and mundane, always the candle and never the light. Whether these consequences are good or bad would depend upon the eye of the beholder and I try not to judge them but I cannot for the life of me separate them from myself. Besides, the FEW times I’ve tried to tell someone about them I’ve been dismissed completely and my insanity became the issue.
Insanity is a dicey thing because it lends power to others and drains it from yourself. Frankly, I think that was the whole point of driving me insane. It is a condition that comes and goes, something I grapple with like walking on a tight rope. I fear that one step in the wrong direction and they would have me locked away and take my freedom for however long they wish and as I explained before, there are few who would care about my situation.
I believe bugging devices are VERY real. I believe satellites exist that can read the same book I’m reading inside my home if they want to spend the money doing that. I know that I know some things that others would LIKE to know about, so long as it gained them an award and a promotion whether it put me and my family in danger or not. None of those things can be fixed or undone so I see no point in dwelling on them.
I believe I have an awareness of a secret society but I’m not sure I belong. This alone might make me unwelcome except for the fact that others would not believe me if I told them. “Poor girl, she’s addled again.” Do they have a way of using voice recognition to track everything I say out loud? If they don’t have such a thing, they should by now. It’s frightening what they can do and what’s even more frightening is that I don’t think these people are government entities. I think they are private sector. The only reason this is really frightening is because generally speaking, the government has to play by a rule book but the private sector does not. The government is not supposed to be biased despite the fact that they sometimes are, yet the private sector is definitely biased and that bias happens to depend upon many variables, probably mostly money and the love of money is devoid of morality and virtue, it exists on a plain of its own.
I am astounded at how plainly these people speak the truth with coded double speak that the average person doesn’t “get”. Ah, but then the madness subsides for a while and lies dormant until some unobtrusive phrase or event wakes it again. Sometimes those who know me, who wish to understand me, or to goad me into madness, will arrange something obvious to toy with me and I smile at how inept they are. The things that I suppose would frighten them are child’s play compared to the things that frighten me. At least I get that impression when they try to push me over the edge. Jennifer once asked me out-right about the code (language). I gave her the basic rules one should follow to keep from getting busted by the police instead. The language cannot be taught really unless one has experienced being drowned in it and even then it takes personal experience to understand what is being said and where it applies. Truthfully, any group could have such a language so long as they have shared experiences and trigger words. It’s not a new concept; I’ve seen it in more than one movie.
I unplugged the air cleaner sold to me by two giddy girls who charged me way more than it’s worth. I looked it up online and saw how much I was overcharged. It occurred to me that a good listening device might very well need a constant source of electricity and it was the only thing in the house that had been totally unsolicited by me, had been arranged to be sold to me over the phone by an equally giddy woman who randomly called me and financed by a group from Draper, Utah. Mormons are who I have suspected all along when it comes to my mental illness, it seems that it always comes back to them in the end. Once I unplugged that machine the “noise” became quiet and things went back to mundane again. Ironically, it isn’t even fully paid for as of yet. Hopefully by the end of the week it will be. Paid for, yes. Plugged back in, doubtful. They will have to rely on doc Robinson for their information.
I’m not sure which is worse, my real life or the head **** that is my fantasy world. Neither truly reflect who I am or what my ideal existence would be like if I had free reign over my life therefore I make the best of them both. For now, that’s all I have to say about THAT.
