The intentions of this blog are a general rambling to The Void in hopes that whoever reading my find it intriguing. By nature of what this is, it will be informal streams of consciousness. Hopefully, from the accumulated effort put in, a beautiful complex abomination of a flower will blossom through the madness. It is not only a journey of thoughts and introspection, but of discovery and some discipline; which I lack, what ever is my success rate of completed projects? This project will be my main focus, writing, journaling, my being of existence and the task of digesting it then spewing it onto a digital medium for others to analyze. To critique my very core.
What has been on my mind tonight and lately is that of Schizotypal Personality Disorder, how it affects my every waking and non-waking moment. It has consumed my thoughts since I first came across it about a week or so ago. The eccentric world shifting allure of its siren’s song drew me into it, it painted colourful images and vast worlds for me to ponder. It then spoke, told me I do the same, told me that I have vast worlds inside of me that want out. Those worlds want out of me so bad, they’re so vast they make up a multiversal expanse that ever shifts and expands. Like black holes recycling matter and growing their inner world. I too am recycling worlds. Multiverses so dense and detailed, each little story affecting me in some form. Whether it’s how I behave around others, how I perceive the reality we share, how I communicate through basic language, my day to day functions are built on an entirely different foundation than the neurotypical. They are built on the traditions and customs of a thousand worlds, cultured and nurtured primarily from a single world in which I call my home… Varku.
One of the reasons I wish to maintain a blog of sort is an attempt at telling my story of daily struggle. From existing as transfem in the USA in the year 2024 to grieving my childhood and coping with my trauma which turned to CPTSD. From the combination of debilitating anxiety and inability to socialize properly to the borderline schizophrenic paranoia and hallucinations. My waking existence is a jumbled mess composing of millions of interactions within my mind, perceived and some tangible in objective reality. When I don’t go through that daily hell I go through a different hell in my sleep. Every night is a new scenario I’m thrown into, like a clay-person dressed up and plucked from Terra to be used as a Mad God’s plaything. Ripped from the grasp of the comforting black oblivion the Void offers and retraumatized over and over again.
Have you ever experienced what it’s like to be shot at, point blank, with a shotgun to the torso, to feel the searing heat scratch away at your body from the inside. All while dressed in high-society attire at an alien gala? And yet, never being shot at or have your torso ripped into in real life. You may think that awaking during such an ordeal would offer comfort, you are wrong. I stumbled around that gala about five steps before collapsing into guests, feeling all the pain and shock as if I were awake, unable to end my suffering. Upon waking that itching pain begged attention though there were no holes in my sides.
Or perhaps a different tale more relatable to the average human experience. In yet another dream, my consciousness came to me on the caldera at the summit of a mountain. Stumbling, frostbit through the dagger winds and bone chilling snow I made my way along the lake’s edge. In a shredded t-shirt with massive bleeding gashes across my body an attempt at living was being made. My partner had dropped dead behind me to the elements. Every drop of our blood culminated in the iron red blood lake. My consciousness came to me again after falling and rolling down over jagged rock close to the base of the mountain. I found civilization but my time was up. Every molecule in me screamed to die, no energy, no heat, no food, no water, no blood - no life flowing through my veins, no hope. Finally, I was in fact rescued. Not once until after the end did I awake from that hell of feeling all of it in real time.
I realize after writing that it does not meet the “average human experience”. Those are just two examples in the vast sea of thousands that I have experienced. Inner worlds have taken me through Gods creating new worlds, pocket dimensions, occult understandings of how reality functions, civilizations succumbing to war, planets being annihilated, eldritch and demonic horrors, and so so much more. No longer am I able to sleep peacefully at night, no longer can I wake feeling refreshed to go to my 8 to 5 job.
It’s so taxing on my psyche, reality isn’t composed of an objective truth anymore. Reality is a kaleidoscopic lens forcefully placed over my eyes - I may know it’s there and wish to ignore it, but damn is it hard to not believe it’s sweet lies are true. I’m entranced by it’s vast complexity and can’t look away.
A very important distinction to make is Ideation vs Delusion. While I am fully aware of how these realities overlay and affect one another including our shared reality it is because I have a set of techniques that allow me to distinguish reality. For example, within the Lucid Dreaming community is is known that you can develop behavioural habits that allow you to awake and become aware within a dream. Those habits being something as simple as trying to read a clock, use your phone, read a book, etc. Now, you’d think those are perfectly reasonable habits to do a reality check, once again, you’re wrong. You see, my dreams are The Twilight Zone, they do not play by the rules. I have existed in some dreams for months at a time, able to tell time, use technology, read things and speak whole languages. The next set of techniques often used is trying to give yourself powers. Yes, it’s true I do maintain a healthy amount of abilities within the dream worlds, and yet those fail in the face of this crisis. Often I’ll find the rules of each world different, a world may allow me to fly while others let me shapeshift, in one I may conjure storms while another I can access my own pocket dimension. Those do not follow dream-logic for one simple reason, the powers fit within the rules and physics of that universe. In places I can shapeshift it is already known to others, flying is rather mediocre in the worlds where I can.
The few abilities that I maintain throughout all dream worlds is a very short and specific list, starting with interdimensional travel. A vast many worlds I’ve met powerful individuals capable of godlike talents and yet they’d trade it away at the mere chance at interdimensional travel. There even is a world in which it’s story is intrinsically tied to the power hungry greed of someone who experiments and tortures others just so he can taste that level of freedom in the vast all encompassing existence. As I walked those places there was a core feature in the way others saw me, and that was of a longing aching dread jealousy. The deep primal desire to leave the life you’ve known and to experience. It is how I would see those who come to Terra with similar ability, for I cannot do that in the waking.
Instead I resort to the overstimulating torrent of information dumped on me like a bucket of ice water upon the alarm sounding, a vile feeling lasting usually a few hours sometimes occupying days. The whole onslaught upon every sense that I have. Instead I resort to going about life cross-referencing every detail to my memory of it’s past, every detail of how it moves, interacts with light, it’s physics and substance as a whole. HOW does it exist and WHY. It is an exhausting task which takes up most my mental energy, not willingly of course but out of instinct. My behaviours exhibit the motions of someone testing reality, viewing things from different angles, playing with the light, feeling textures, etc. Doing things out of the ordinary that a neurotypical wouldn’t usually do. I’ve lied to people, I’ve manipulated conversation and made light moral sins just to get through existing. Mostly out of paranoia that I’m in the right place. Someone saying things or filling in the blanks I purposefully left would leave me in shock. My desire isn’t to hurt others by doing these things, it’s purely to keep myself grounded. The philosophy is that while I may walk a thousand worlds I still wake in this same one. I’ve made progress in some form or another here on Terra. There are people I care about here. So I must maintain my existence within the accepted boundaries, as best I can.