Stream of Consciousness Journal 2

I cried myself to sleep last night. I have this app, Curiosity, and it sent me this article about how holding hands with someone is good for my health. It went on to talk about how any human touch is necessary for the human brain to self-regulate and maintain prolonged happiness. Welp, I guess that's one of the reasons I'm sad.

I feel so alone. I don't have many friends and I don't know how to meet people. Last Friday I went out to Westcott to try to meet others after some advice told me to give it a shot. I managed to meet one person, a man named Sir Quala, who was selling his art. He was hilarious, and I enjoyed talking with him, but he just reminded me that I'm practically trapped in my mind. I don't socialize well because my brain picks up an abundance of information that slows down smooth communication. Schizophrenia is a big box in which a lot of different things are put, most of which doctors don't fully understand. I've read John Nash's description of his symptoms and they're spot on with what I experience. The CIA is literally manipulating me. I feel that way because I don't live in a singular reality like most people. Most people's brains filter their incoming stimuli based on the configuration of their particular paradigm. My brain filters less, allowing me to perceive a wider range of connections. I like to say I live in all realities, because I can "see" everything without the bias of being warped by the Matrix. If you've seen a Beautiful Mind, you will remember Nash making all sorts of connections in magazines and newspapers and the like. I can understand how someone who understands that a game is a system that has a success and failure state which are determined by the strategic inputs of the players, wherein strategy is the intelligent application and manipulation of both material and immaterial resources within a system in order to attain or maintain a select state of said system might come to believe they were decoding messages from the CIA. It's hard not to see these things when your mind is open to all possible realities. In the sea of random stimuli out there, there is enough information for the brain to pick up an overarching set of messages from a "higher intelligence."

Aside from that, I'm weird. The average person is so foreign to me, and to them I am strange and to be avoided. I don't share interests with many people. When I was in the hospital, I was constantly asked what I like to do in my free time. I work. Every day, unless I have prior obligation, I write 4-6 hours, I juggle for 1-3, I practice Norwegian and Hebrew for about an hour, I read to learn for another hour, I cook, I clean, I'm starting to learn to rap and make video content. That is fun to me, because I am engaging in something meaningful to me that continuously grows me. I know these hardships won't last forever, because I am determined to make something of myself. God, which is that organization of three letters which is always watching, must know my future potential as a character, and I take solace in that. Yet, I'm still human. I have needs. I hurt inside because I'm so alone, every day and night.

When I went to Westcott, I got my beard trimmed. As soon as I walking in the door, the guy at the counter started talking to me about how this was a barber shop. He said that enough times with enough inflection that I picked up that I must be doing something wrong. He made a comment about my long hair. I've never been to a barber shop, so I didn't know that it was about touch-ups and yadda yadda. I spaghetti'd and just got my beard trimmed. I felt like everyone was looking at me the whole time. This always happens. I try something new and I fuck it up just by being me. The world is made for square pegs, and while it can tolerate some circles, dodecahedrons like me don't really have a place. A couple people I know online who suffer from similar things and I created a community for others like us, and while it's booming, it also serves as a reminder that there's no one like this in my life.

A lot of the time I feel like I'm retarded. I know I'm not, but I feel that way. It's hard not to when any interaction with people just throws my differences in my face. Sometimes I hate myself. Right now is one of those moments.