I imagine that most people starring in a reality show… well they know about it. They have met the producers and they can see the film equipment. There are articles and reviews online, funny memes or gifs to prove the show is taped and watched worldwide. People that are in reality shows probably do not believe they are secretly being filmed for a wildly popular reality show that is controlling the available media to keep it “real”.
BUT I DO.
Most people can hop in the shower completely carefree. Secure and safe, certain that people aren’t watching them bathe.
I believe that I am on camera and being watched on live tv. I feel absolutely certain that the people all around me know every move I make. I truly believe every word I speak is known to all and if needed could be used against me. I believe these things because I am told these things, by voices no one else can hear.
These voices wreak havoc on my life, which may be why I have the luck of a hundred white rabbits. I stumble and fall right into secret, special places. I trip and kick a situation that amazes and excites me. My blind luck leads me on as I pretend that it is all on purpose. Like I intentionally arrived where I ended up, via a twisting route I deliberately laid out.
Usually I’m lucky not to have gotten seriously hurt, let alone find the things I find.
And find things I did! Hidden things, secret things… things that were clearly not meant to be found. Listening took me there.
I hear the voices most clearly when I am surrounded by people. I hear them the loudest when I’m not listening, especially in the bedroom. The stories they tell me change all the time. One day I’m an undiagnosed dyslexic, soldiering one despite the difficulties I face. The next I’m a mafia princess hidden to be kept alive.They talk about wha’s wrong with me a lot. Then they tell to make me a villain. The little background information that was found by them painted a picture of a self centered, slutty, weak woman with zero respect for herself or others. Over time, they gradually changed their minds about me. Every thing they knew, was not everything to be told. The fragmented half told stories about me created a person they were dying to film.
Venomous villians are riveting characters people love to hate. Only, I’m not a villain. I never was. I like doing the right thing because it feels good. The voices were at a loss at first, how were they going to stir up interest in me now? So they started brainstorming. Loudly. Very loudly. The Voices never shut up. They are always commenting on my behavior. Trying to edit the recordings into addictive tv drama. They can only do this by invading the sound waves around me. The fact that I hear the sound of their voices despite never seeing anyone they can belong to reminds me that I am quite mad. Only not, because I know it. I’m crazy and I know I’m not supposed to listen to the voices, but How am I supposed to stop believing the sound is real? I believe I’m not on television because the evidence concludes I cannot be. Yet, I still wonder if I truly am because of all the odd bits and pieces of evidence that connect enough to believe I am smarter than them, and I AM on tv! I know they control what information I can access! I’m a different kind of paranoid schizophrenic. One that isn’t like the kind people usually think of, all conspiracies plots and twitches. I see plots everywhere. Locally relevant small scale though, not big picture worldwide stuff.
I used to See doctors everywhere. All planning how to catch and cage me in another shitty loony bin that never lets me outside or dance. I am not afraid of doctors anymore. I have gotten better, smarter. I’ll never go back, and they can’t make me.
I’m not listening to the neighbors dog, and I don’t visually hallucinate… I don’t think I do anyway. Hmm, how would I know? I’m the kind of schizo that finds intrigue and conspiracy in every day events. I find plots and plans in conversations with co-workers and employers. I look into the woods after a storm and see letters by purposely arranged, not naturally fallen, tree branches. I conceive, arrange and enact elaborate undercover missions that involve disguises and subterfuge that leads me to a person that might have information on my BaeBae’s “suicide”. A dangerous person usually. One that can see through people’s . The kind of men that deceive with ease and kill over being lied too. Men that are dangerous because their lives are dangerous. Men I wish now I would wish I had never met. I do not wish it. The thrill of running for my life, the adrenaline that comes from escaping death by the strength of my Body, Will, and Mind is almost addictive as the small pieces of information I found, usually by accident, that put me one step closer to knowing, t information just like the kind I seek. If they and and usually end up with me in a very dangerous situation.
Situations that almost always seem to involve me jumping out of something (like a tree ,a window, or a porch ceiling) to escape the very bad people One of me has been trying to glean evidence, information or clues to baebaes murderer from. I see spare change on a table, look at peculiarly draped towels, observe the strange exact placement of soda cans, unable to break the code, but Certain beyond certain that it all means something! Something that could make the difference of finding the answer of what the fuck actually happened to my BaeBae, and finding myself at the wrong end of a sawed off shotgun, fresh out of chances and all out of charm.
I Do whatever makes me happy.
As LONG!
As I am not hurting someone and I am not hurting myself. I do whatever I want when I want.
“I Wish I could do that!” says almost every person I meet. They want to, they explain. But….
“I just can’t because of the day I had. What someone did to me. They, all of them EXCEPT ME, of course!! They are all SOOO MUCH DRAMA! And they stop me from doing what I really want to do. No really! THEY do!“
You are more than free to blame other people.
It doesn’t make it their fault, but you are free to BLAME them.
And I am free to think you must be completely lost. Actually believing the shit you talk, but never walk. I am free to think you are falling for your own sales pitch, and you are free to think that the world is out to get you. That seems likely!
That You have no control over your life and everything is because everyone is sabotaging you.
People Might Be Sabotaging you but it could be a Prank.
Who knows? Maybe it’s Karma trying to beat a life lesson into you by overwhelmingly and persistently giving you back what you put in.
Here’s the Thing, Other People might listen, nod sympathetically and say things like, “You poor thing!”
I’m going to walk away and leave you speaking to the air.
That’s so mean! SO? I live in a free country. You are free to bitch about how other people are destroying your life, that is your right.
You can talk the shit you talk about others that don’t walk they just talk, and I will walk away, and leave you to talk to NOBODY.
WORDS! AHHH! Words I am SO SICK OF WORDS.
I get words all day long. Men girls boys ladies nattering on and on
Telling me exactly why they can’t move only talk
Never moving a muscle to prove what they say.
Just standing there like, “Believe me, ok?”
I walk the walk! I hate drama and games!”
“I don’t put people down I build them up!
I want to be nice to you, But honestly
You’re looking, kind of… rough.
Anyway, back to me, I was just telling you.
I am a vault, I keep secrets I am loyal and true.
I feel like you are just like I Am!
You wouldn’t repeat what I told you in secret!
I would never tell anyone what you tell me alone.
That makes us friends, I’ve got gossip to share!
I’ll die if I don’t tell Someone!”
I swore I wouldn’t tell a soul, so I need you to
Promise you’ll do as I SAY and not as I DO!”
And that right there is the problem with words.
People who say them, think they proved their worth.
Talk Talk Talk, Words all day through.
Speaking so much not saying anything true.
Sitting in a chair claiming that you are walking
Motion is missing from your arms legs and torso.
Talking the walk you’re not walking
Energy used up making your Mouth go
Others crown around you, lining up to buy
The Horse Shit you labeled as blackberry Pie
And when the pie turns to steaming shit in their mouths
They open them up and let more words fly out
Blaming and shaming, bullying and breaking
Loud insistent empty and persistently making
Communicating into war meant for upstaging
Anyone who doesn’t immediately believe what
they are saying.
Talkin shit about all the shit that’s talked
By other mother fuckers who just don’t walk
Telling a story, do they think that its true?
“I’m Happy and confidant I believe in myself!
I have a great life, I’m doing better than I ever guessed!”
Shit talking Words automatically spoken
maybe she wants to believe it herself,
More than she wants to convince anyone else
I hear the words then I look at her actions
That girl is broken or a shittalker non walker
She, don’t look happy in the corner alone,
wringing her hands and checking her phone.
I won’t tell you a word
I don’t speak when It matters most.
Words can be faked and even actions pretended.
Letters can make a man into a criminal
Words can make a criminal into a victim
Lies can sound true, and truth sound unreal
fuck telling me shit, I don’t want to hear it!
Lets silently show others who we are
Look into more eyes, hug and kiss when we want to
FUCK PRETENDING TO NOT CARE WHEN I DO
FUCK BLAMING SOMEONE ELSE FOR WHAT I DIDN’T DO
FUCK POSTING A PICTURE ABOUT A GREAT LIFE
FOR FRIENDS THAT ARE STRANGERS TO CLICK LIKE
And I can have A THUMBS UP.
Or if I really have good facebook friends
They will Love Comment and Share!
And it isn’t about what I
to a world that she sees from inside her house
for just talking and not walking the walk. The mountain of bullshit with each open mouth. A sentence of shit dribbling from open mouths missing eyes ears and sense.
From the only person each person can blame for the life they live, fuck off with what if. Not maybe not Might, there is no could be. It is or its not that is all there is. everyone talks about other people talking
Motley Mind 