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Old 02-21-2016, 09:28 AM   #1
mindless1
 
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An Army of Me

Tue, 25 Nov 2014
342 reads 3 comments
Gabrielle Bryant

An Army of Me

I couldn't fit in no matter what I did. I was an outcast as soon as I moved from Pittsburgh PA to Shepherdstown WV....Before I went to high school I was kind of shy and people didn't know how to react to my awkwardness, but my best friend was the most popular girl in middle school. I was slowly retreating into more of my personal thoughts and dreams, poetic identities. I was exploring my hidden past archaic parallel possibilities, personifying ideas about time....I think the true problem was that I was depressed, rebellious, and reckless with my behaviors sometimes. I had no self control or impulse control, and it got worse....I couldn't stop thinking...if I stopped thinking, then I would die.

My parents decided instead of me going to HS in my hometown I would go
to a boarding high school in ohio in the middle of some farmer town to pick potatoes and learn about organic farming and quaker stuff. It was my anti-establishment activist mother's idea...and thinking back if I had been more mature and self-sustaining then I would have appreciated and enjoyed it to some extent. The boarding school was also haunted and I'm sensitive to spirits. I recall hearing knocking from inside a closet and my roommate handing me a pill before I woke up in a different bed, refused to eat food and drew paintings that I tore up before I told God that I was going to dive into Oblivion and someone would have to catch me because I was done saving myself.

At times I thought it was crazy that I was diagnosed with chronic paranoid
schizophrenia at age 16. I was dabbling with tarot cards and trying to overcome it, but after awhile I had an information overload, I was having cold and flashes, I was delirious it felt more like a fever than actual psychosis to me. Then I calmed down, was hospitalized, was put on medication against my will and eventually It taught me to control my impulse, I saw therapists
who mostly just boosted my self esteem and confidence to try harder to put the pieces back. I've been living a shattered life for a long time.
And yet of all the times I thought it would never end or get better, I found
hope or that small silver lining and that really does make all the difference. It
makes you stronger to have overcome depression or thoughts of suicide, and pills don't cure that only you can find a way to overcome certain things. I think if I had lived any other way of life, I still probably would've come to some crisis eventually. That's a part of growing up, it's a part of who I am. I ask big questions and am blessed with hard challenges. Some of it has made me bitter, but most of it has made me stronger.

I think a lot of people are drawn to that, and growing up a lot of dreamers
and thinkers have an existential or depressive crisis. I constantly felt punished.
Over time I took Abilify and my memories did suffer in the short-term but I became more rational and smarter. I'm actually Bipolar with Adhd. I take a low
10mg dose of Adderall and am using that to increase the skill I lost through this deficit and interruptions in education. The first sign I was having symptoms actually were noticed by my math teacher who said my Algebra grades went from straight A's to failing in a matter of a month, and I was also having problems with fatigue. I just felt like my mind was falling away.

Despite all this stuff is probably common and depressing, I've managed to
make a lot of progress in the 10 years of battling this illness, and I think at 25-26 is when your brain starts fully maturing and your mind can manifest a lot of new ideas and solidify old ones. That's why the age 25 is an important age of experience but also of forgiveness. If you have high aspirations don't let them go, but work towards what you already have and try and build a foundation on what you know and learned. Reflect on all the accomplishments of your life and all the things you'd still like to do. Have hope don’t give up. Set a standard and example for the people who have no heroes. That's what I want to be, a role model.

She was fourteen when her parents sent her to Ohio.

Then she came back to the world, and nothing could explain the pain, depression, anger. She slowly began losing her mind, and on the day she cracked she screamed about the greenhouse where she found a revelation of apocalyptic futures after she was ***** after the students had poured her a cup of tea before they all told her to leave and the school neglected the fact, cheering after she was gone. Waking up, numb and confused. “What happened?" "What's wrong?" "Go home..."

She didn’t know how she got there, and it felt strange as if she hadn’t slept. She had a fleeting image of walking around the halls with the same two men in the dark. But their faces were so clear, and her behavior so odd. She went home that night, and told God she was going to destroy herself for this. Her parents thought she had schizophrenia. For two weeks the pain of depression didn’t end. Nothing felt like anything, everything felt like nothing. They shut her up in a hospital where the nurse would go to her bedside and ask her to take pills for sleeping, but she was sleeping better and wanted to go home. They kept giving her more pills and she wanted to remember, and it kept forcing her to split apart. The memory was erased, and then after more torment and assault, she was a chronic paranoid
schizophrenic.

Part Three:

Everything has withered, dried up, & become a void of dispersion. The hatred,
the anger, the force of his mind or the dark ink scribbles that I can't simply
muster anymore. The beauty of the rain drops or the bitterest downpour, soaking me to the core with vapid discontent. No drug could satiate nor satisfy the barren volume which sits within me. My thoughts skim through fleeting moments of what was before and the urgent sense of sanity, which could never have claimed my mind. I feel broken like a violin; voicing her song to no one but the creaking floorboards. If I could only summon the Lords of the universe to sweep me away from the numbing chill of depression. If I could dip a brush into India Ink and smear my portrait across the infinite canvas that has become my life--to be born again in the wild thunderous storm of madness.

Instead, I remain listless as the fog mows over the evening sky, an intrepid
traveler of clouds. Meaninglessly I conjure words to realms which are too far
from this lake of disarray. The world spins and twists itself betwixt the hands of
oblivion, but if only we knew ourselves better. A blur of watercolors descends
upon this oceanic view of the neither-nor woman. I see a bright room lit by an undesirable opaqueness, where the listless fallen are nursed back to life. I pray to Heaven and his convoy of immortals, though I never am sure if he has heard. The voices have all gone to sleep, have been banished to never-land. Once a child of innocent insanity, now slipping past the moon as the shadows dance upon her in a circle of understanding.

She watches clouds gathering droplets of rain from her eyes. She knows it
is because there is something wrong with it. Unsure if she's angry or relieved, the woman goes and sits on the porch like she had for so long. Staring out into the beautiful green and blue, her sobs release as she pleads with the Lord for forgiveness from her ignorance. They buy Maggie flowers on Sunday, purple ones that look like daisies. That night their children dream of blood pouring from the sky.

Angry voices leap at them from the shadows.
How can she begin again? Like before, after the cleansing had left her mind
barren and her skin cold to the touch. Would it be wrong to suspect father's accusations?

Her sorrow descends like a dark cloud across the horizon. Her mother’s
sobs are heard from the room below; her father silently curses the evil demon
dancing dancing in the dark, twisting anything they can touch, breaking hearts.
How strange that she had to lose touch with everything she once loved so dearly. Now the words mean nothing. A mother with secrets, in the violent morning rain. A girl full of pain.

Where was the shining spark that kept her alive whether it drove her to
madness… fighting a false war for a false product or are we armed against something more sinister? Is this how you take your property back? Ignorance is cowardice. When he looked out from his big house, did he ignore the flowers? It's not fair, said the daughter, to blame me. I hate this disease as much as anyone. The dollar bill is more cruel than a pill to wash away the memories. It's not that she wanted the child back, it was that she had no choice but to give him the world in black.
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Old 02-21-2016, 09:31 AM   #2
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Sat, 28 Nov 2015
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These are some thoughts I remember from last night me and my guy
friend stayed up talking about our theories and it helped me so much, I
felt the most connected ever. Even though we're no longer dating, I felt
like I loved him even more without that pressure instead just loving
someone for themselves.

The law of attraction. He said something very deep, but I can't deny it.
Even though I'd rather not believe it, my behaviors and
attitudes and even circumstance attracted "schizophrenia"
to manifest. When I reacted to my parents confusion with
anger, resilience, and fear it only worsened the hole Id fallen into.
My dad saw me in a helpless state, not realizing his very belief that I
was helpless made me more-so, and the same with psychiatrists.

Five years later, and I am still me and I have not changed, only the situation. I
took opportunities, went to college, proved them all wrong, and started
working to improve more every day. Letting go of certain elements of my
past has lifted a huge burden on my mind. I am no longer afraid.

Thoughts create reality. Law of attraction proves that what you desire you draw
to you, or even just dwell upon. That’s why negative thoughts can become
self-fulfilling. After a long night staying up with my friend, we
talked about all our deepest theories of the universe. These are only
bits and pieces of what I can remember. Haha, and we only drank some
coffee to keep us up, but it was a good night.

When a negative meets a positive it generates a charge, that is the spark of thought or
life. We are literally the composition of galaxies, what seems far away
could be closer than you think. Perhaps this galaxy is the birth of two
galaxies that collided, one was negative and the other was positive,
male and female, God and Godess, yin and yang, in other words each
galaxy was big enough to draw the other one, and through each other the
birth of the Milky Way.

What are black holes? Are they pockets of
space? Or are they tunnels into other universes? Is it cold inside a
black hole or hot? Maybe black holes are actually doors to alternate
dimensions. Maybe there’s something there that we just can’t see. There
are so many possibilities.

God is a painter. Each careful dot onto the canvas of reality is one step towards ascension. Each color on the portrait of you creates a stairway for your soul to travel, a universe
inside itself. Are we all just Gods in training? When we die does
consciousness move on? Perhaps to an alternative reality, or one of our
own making?

If we are all one consciousness, then the illusion is
that we are disconnected. The ego is the mask, everyone wears a mask.
Without illusions and magic, life would be boring. We are mere players
or actors in a grand cinematic adventure. and even when you think it’s
all over, there is always a bigger greater force which is pulling you
out of the darkness. The story never ends, the movie never ends. Stars
are reborn, gallaxies collapse. The puppet and the puppeteer are one
soul, infinitely conversing with the innocent audience, sometime we are
oblivious to one very special truth..that's the freedom not to be bound
to it. We don't have to act to anyone's standards. If we are the
puppeteers, if God creates Christ in his own self like image then
perhaps man does have the key to existence. If so, than more potential
realities must exist or have existed always.

There is no one truth, no exact science, no actual proof of anything. We are inventors
and we invented ourselves, but once your ankles and wrists are chained
into being, there are new laws that apply. When you fall asleep, your
mind is free from the ego and from your imposing irrationality of
singularity. When you wake up in a dream, you may find a new world
completely. There is no way of knowing whether or not what you see right
now is proof that there’s a limit to what you’re unaware of.

The power of potential is in your hands, and those who are not able to change
their potential deserve to be. Ignorance only distracts people from the power
they have to change atoms and re-arrange planets, manifest beliefs,
morph into superheroes or demons / even if we don't
know the power of evil and darkness we still prescribe it to one another
in fear of an outer imbalance.

Terror is a weapon of compliance and used to influence the vulnerable or brave to submit to subversion and mind control. When you bind one person to another, both become
prisoners of war. Therefore love's attachment is the souls devotion to
life's truths, which are pure and free. But to imprison yourself in a
realm of subjective ideas, become the same person, pasted side by side
in the same redundant interview with existence. Wholly United we
radiated hopes like supernovas trapped on the other side of the prison
walls, divided and muted to frequent lights in our dream of what's
between the sleeping wires, below the endless ways she desires.

Love radiates infinitely. It is beyond the scope of reason or rhyme. It
cannot be bent by gravity, and carries the soul to safety. We are riding
the waves of possibility, but what about those whirlpools? Where do
they lead? The fool, does he ever meet the earth?

And what was the
spark? Love was the spark. It was two opposing forces, combined
unselfishly, and it balanced the Universe. And it kept us Together. And
it will save us in the end.

How does the soul speak? In waves of
light. The sun and moon continually work together to keep a balance. The
moon cries to the sky, who whispers to the sea, who rises for the sun,
and journeys to shore, who reflects their entirety.

Be both mystic and scientist. Experiment. Grow. The world was
meant for us to understand more than what we were, but who we are and
how we can become great. Because I believe we are here to create
something accessable and attainable. We are all artists with infinite
pallets of paint. Invention isn’t easy, neither was immortality or
re-creating life from dust.

In Modern society we lock visionaries in asylums and prisons, for seeing something different than we want them to. perfection was not the goal of humanity. Science has become a
microscope constantly breaking apart reason into tinier and tinier
pieces. Religion has become an escape, and rarely in America do you find
real substance to it that extends any further.

Unity is the goal, but without diversity we’ll never see the entire beauty of all that is.
Don’t cut away the pieces that are ugly, realize their importance,
perhaps it is that you are simply unfamiliar with beauty.
maybe we’re fluid, maybe we are clay, or maybe we’re all
exploring ourselves to find out why we tick.

I hope someday we’ll stop ignoring the beauty in something as simple as a
new dawn on a winter’s day. Witness yourself change. You are the world.
And yet, everything will someday wash away, is there anything you found
that could make my lover stay?
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