Warp

After a stint where reality, or at least ones perception of reality has flexed so dramatically, and these recent months have been amongst the worst so of my life, it is hard to start again. Lookily some things have remained real and have stood like concrete pillars in a shifting sea of intangibles. A lot just doesn't fit anymore. Huge assumptions I had, fixings I attached long chains of reasoning to have proved to be no more solid than sand. For some issues I have to reach back decades to find a mouring from which to negotiate from. It is terrifying. The consolation is that I now see more accurately. There is an air of rebirth. I could have continued living the narrative I had written, the false story of my existence, many do just this. I see them struggling to wear the selves they have created as increasingly warped rational is required to perpetuate there own myth just as I did. The confusion that follows these bouts, even after the chaotic thought blizzard has died down can devalue everything. Once the realisation comes that any belief is temporary it becomes hard to believe in anything, enough to post it down anyway. If last weeks thoughts were folly how can I know this weeks are any better? This has paralised all creative production in recent months. At least my body is now under control; no more seizures, no spastic jitters, no wandering the streets all night dispensing excess adrenalin. Even so, focus can still take several seconds, when spoken to the speakers face settles in to view through fog, reading text disolves in to word mush. Though the purely halucinatory has ceased the volume on everything is still cranked up. The severity of each occurence has no measure. The significance of information none either. Obsession is easy. Interactions are difficult. People become grotesque parodies of themselves. Meat puppets dancing to the hand of some dread cosmitition.