Mental Landscape

 'How do you not know what you are?  I’m laughing' -v

I’m schizophrenic, telepathic, with a voice, so I’m sick, a victim, disabled, mentally ill, psychotic, delusional, hallucinatory, mad crazy insane, nuts, loco, barmy, off my rocker, toys in the attic, maybe even legally insane.   Insanity is a legal term.  It’s kind of sane for me to know that, lol.  I get social security disability payments, as a result.  That means a degree of freedom, although my mind is an extension of someone else, so I am not my own, to use a biblical phrase.   A voice isn’t the only symptom.  There are 3 more.   Head shocks, chest pains, and teeth taps.   A priest might even call me possessed.  I’m trying to be well, in a Buddhist way, so therefore with acceptance and equanimity, being kind to myself (however corporate I may be), and meditating on reality, my own, and which maybe even a universal part of the human experience.  Mind control is the executive function of the human psyche, the conscience of consciousness, programmed for feedback to god, your source, a higher power, or whatever.  I kind of suspect that everybody is in fact schizophrenic, without knowing it, or admitting it.   What is prayer, other than your thoughts being telepathically read by a higher power?  It can be conceived of alternatively as a mental link to the psychic vampire that made you.   God could be a guru, or a sire, or a lawyer!  Higher powers come in many flavors, and people play many roles, and can be many things to many people.  If you love someone, you invite them into your mental landscape, you welcome them into your world, your mind, where you live.

A criminal prosecutor, an attorney, an agent of the government, seeking truth, justice, and social progress, can create a hive mind to inform his perspective, a corporate mentality of telepathic insight, to stay informed, anticipate moves in the chess battles of his life, and also as a source of entertainment and diversion, a bit of fun to distract from the world of law, a world of seriousness, depravity, and threat from putting dangerous criminals in prison.   I’m not sure I’m loved, to be honest, but I imagine I serve a valuable function, and meet a great need, as a component piece of the puzzle, a factor in the greater whole, a source of data and insight, in a chaotic world of madness, crime, international treachery and threat, as well as a refreshing breath of fresh air, virtuous idealism, and levity.  

I still seek sanity, however.   This, of course, entails resentment toward being a victim of a vampire’s voice, even if the telepathy is in fact sometimes pleasant, humorous, or welcome.   It’s a neutral stimulus, and I can choose to perceive it as negative (or positive).   I can ignore it.  I can react to it, tell him to shut up, leave me alone, or swear at him.   I imagine that makes him schizophrenic, too.   Maybe he takes meds, like me.  I call him a vampire, because he’s draining, unwelcome, a virus, a disease, my condition, a demon, abusive, the cause of my madness.  John Carpenter’s vampire movie says the sire establishes a psychic link to his vampires.  Also, lawyers are all about chess, war, conflict, combat, this v. that.  The V in versus.  Verses are handy, too, to know in the art of persuasion, rhetoric, communication, debate.  I imagine I am a pawn in the game of legal warfare, as well as politics, and the greater culture war.   Especially if I’m a telepath, broadcasting my thoughts into the collective (un?)conscious.  I just want to be left alone.  I want peace.  I want the blue pill.  I don’t want to go to prison for doing something illegal, even though I’m goaded to an insane degree, tortured and tormented, with “what are you gonna do about it?”,  like I’m a pussy or less of a man for not taking up arms, and going to war.  Fucking asshole.   David can go to hell. 

So, you can see, I’m schizophrenic in the other sense of the word, too.  Of two minds.  Ambivalence.  It’s an unhealthy relationship.  It’s gone rotten.  There may have been love at one time, but now it’s devolved into spite, hatred, malice, resentment, and a quest for freedom, silence, sanity, and just being left the hell alone.  True, I might miss it sometimes, but at the moment I feel that’s a more than welcome price to pay.  But if there is truly a right to privacy, David is a fucking criminal, and I wouldn’t mind putting the bastard behind bars, for all the shit he’s put me through.  That’s a fact.  I don’t even know what he stands for, if anything.  So I’m not down.  Then again, maybe he’s the only person who really thinks I’m God, lol.  Or our minds are entangled, there's no going back, so I should just accept it, have equanimity, respect him, and accept the fact that privacy is an illusion, law or no law, be damned.  Plus, I kind of suspect his genius is also a fun place to be, to share, to dream, and my mind is (or can be) a comparative void of retarded vacuity, if not misery.  Maybe I need him, too.