After a week of peace and flow, chaos returns. How do you explain? Your head twists through 180 degrees, everything is the same but your looking at it as though it has been perverted. Suspicion of motives. A smile becomes a sneer, words dissolve and the meanings gathered from what lies between takes prescedence. The studio no longer feels free but analytical. People appear, looking to see why people say you aren't quite right in the head. Work becomes laboured. Where last week you could become lost in a task, now all is laborious. The quiet paranoia of post intoxication. My dog just won't stop panting. He picks up on my fear. Doors bang downstairs as couples argue. I sleep in stolen patches, waking in terror each time. Fear of returning to nightmare trumps the need for sleep and once again I'm walking through the nights streets. Police cars follow you as no one else is around and your behaviouris strange. This being followed and watched by the authorities mirrors day time where locals look at you, questioning your motives. An illness peppers the background, like the feeling of being in the sun too long, or exhaustion. Half formed voices punctuate the silence. People, even ones you know are not really themselves. They take on a halucinatiry quality. Hallucinations confuse the issue with dark patterns you expect taking prescedence over correct cognition.
Such is my life. It is as if the planets align for a few days and all is peaceful. I am as good as anyone else. Better than most. More creative, more intelligent. Then, without warning nor any real line of change the universe is once more in chaos. All the patterns and order that provide foundation, all the securities you rely on to perpetuate the narrative of who you are are jumbled.up. Fragments of how systems work slosh around in a mulch, splitting off, diverting, combining with unrelated patterns whose physical laws differ.
And saddest of all is those I love and who care for me become the playthings of some hellish cosmetician. Acquaintances I am getting to know see I am different with them. They notice I have changed in some way. I try to see beyond the chaos and false readings my head makes but you can't see beyond your self. It is a walled garden of deception. I can know that what I am seeing and feeling is not entirely true or real but, at the time it is all you have to go on. It is like being an atheist in a mosque. Like being a uni lingual English man in a country where everyone speaks Spanish. I can't use the knowledge that last weeks me could have seen through this weeks madness.
There was a time, up until last September even, when I would combat these periods of hallucinogen damage or organic madness, who knows its origin or whether I would be like this if I had not touched consciousness expanding drugs in my teens, with drink or drugs. A time when I felt that reality was malleable enough, controllable by chemical means to be sculpted. Just get the recipe right. Years of self and professional medication left me worse. Now I try to accept what I am. Leave it a day. See if I am better tomorrow. Wait it out a while. Rathe than steam in, assume my misreading of reality is true and strike back at my attackers.
Because I really don't know why I am this way. Whether I would have been in a fluctuating relationship with reality anyway, whatever I had done when I was young. Even if I like what I am. After all there is some truth in that among all the wrong connections my mind makes some are wonderful, some beyond the scope of common man. But this is not a price worth paying. I think of the madmen I am able to accommodate. I know my straighter friends can not see why I get on with some of the more crazy people. I suppose in any friendship it is about how easily you can see the way someone else does. I will write to PC, in jail for a murder he didn't commit. I will ring PV today whose schizophrenia makes my subtle deviance look conventional. These and other people who patrol the periphery of society. The broken biscuits help me get through weeks where I can't tolerate the straight, narrow thinking of normal folk.
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