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Damned if I do, damned if I don't.  Better just keep writing and forget all the plagerist(s), rumors, and everything else.  I have my integrity, even if nobody believes me.  It's not like I'm a genius, it's just another blog.  This week has been fine.  I'm adjusting to having no money again.  My volunteer job offered me a real job, but I'm hesitating and I know it's a bad idea to hesitate.  I'm always trying to postpone big decisions, until I have no decision to make. Making problems where there is a solution right there.  I need the money.  I haven't been making my writing goals, but I did find a book mark with a key on it that says "happiness".   I went into Starbucks yesterday with a dollar off coupon.  Somehow the major of the barista there came up, "I'm a math major with a minor in computer science. Do you want this dry or wet?"  She said.  "Dry" I said with a tinge of guilt, a person smarter than me is making my cappucino.  "Oh I'm a right brained person, I majored in digital art and minored in computer science, well I didn't really finish the minor I was a class or two shy of finishing it..." I continued.  "Oh, is that a butterfly in the window?"  she asks  "Yes, it is" I said.  I decided to try rescuing it, one cannot touch the wings of a butterfly or it dies, so I put my hand in front of it for it to crawl on.  She crawled right onto it and we went outside, I noticed her wing had a flaw and I felt badly for her.  I walked towards a tree, soon she realized we were outside and she flew away.  I went back into the Starbucks, "Good luck with your minor!"  the barista said  "good luck with college!" I said.  There isn't a tip jar inside the Target Starbucks, they aren't even official baristas, they are Target employees who sometimes make drinks, but it was a positive experience and a delicious dry cappucino.  The butterfly was quite happy with the experience too. 

I saw a man who looked like Karl the other day.  I was getting very angry thinking he was sitting there with a man (the last time I saw Karl he was on the phone flirting with a gay man).  I took several deep breaths, because I was feeling overwhelming rage and knew I might yell or get more angry.  I struggled to calm down, stabbing at my fruit salad until mom noticed how loud it wwas when I missed the fruit stabbing on the plate.  The man who looked like Karl stood up and I realized my mistake, it was definately not Karl at all.  I feel this rage about once a week, where I think I see Karl and get mad.  Yeah, yeah, he "moved to VA" but he lied to his fiance and he lied to me many times.  So many people look exactly like him, it's very frustrating.  Jay looks very unique, I never see anyone who remotely resembles Jay anywhere.  The last conversation I had with Karl I left angry, the last interaction with him I left angry,  and I suspect many of these nasty rumors I overhear are started by him.  Why does he care?  I'm already angry, I already hate him, what does he have to lose?  Well, his reputation as an honest person, well he isn't one so why would he care?  I try to stay calm about all this, my therapist says other people will see through him like I did, but I'm a reasonably intelligent person and it took me a very long time...What if it takes others as long to see through him?  What if they fall for his act?  What if they see my entries as me setting him up?  They don't know, they don't see me as I see me, because they don't understand the situation from my perspective.  But I really have been abstient, completely and utterly since April 2014.  I see police everywhere, let them follow me and see how innocent I am.  Waste tax payer money on an innocent person while these lying crooks are distracting authority from themselves.  I don't understand why these people have chosen to torment a schizoaffective disabled person, but Karma exists and may it find them (consequences for their actions).  May they be suffering from an illness and have someone spread nasty rumors about thier character and try to get them killed, arrested, or institutionalized.   My life has to get better and I already know what these fools are up to, so it will be harder for them to succeed in gang stalking me (if that is in fact what is happening).  Everything happens behind my back, so it's really difficult to know.  It frustrates me, but I'm trying to move on with my life and ignore it as much as possible.  I know who I am and I know I'm innocent, that has to be enough.

Bernie

The powers that be will allow people like Bernie or Warren into the Senate and congress, just not as a president. This is why voting is still important to me. It's so sad to see someone like Trump can survive the primary, but someone with integrity and empathy like Bernie cannot survive even when he can win against Trump. I've been depressed to see the system is rigged and feel naïve for ever believing it might not be a plutocracy as I knew it was before Bernie ever tried to run. I know the only other option left is Hillary, who I promised my friend I would not vote for. She needs to win against Trump, because however bad she is she still represents the compromise the corporations are willing to make and isn't the tyrant Trump is. She is far from perfect, she isn't Bernie, but she is not nearly as terrible or evil as Trump is. Do we pick certain evil? Slightly evil? or impossible good which the plutocracy will not let win? *sigh*

Cognitive Enhancement Therapy

I just learned about Cognitive Enhancement Therapy. I read a couple articles written for doctors until I was terribly confused by medical jargon, until I found this article.

Last day at the cafe

"Hello Corrine!" they say warmly, with a touch of bitterness for needing to say it first.  I look on the schedule, it's my last shift and the bengali tea girl isn't there today (it's her birthday).  She really isn't a bad person, I like her as a person and see her value, but she just irritated me a little since I have this thing about perfectionists after knowing Jay and feeling hurt by never meeting his expectations of me.  The manager approaches, "This is the last shift, I got everything else covered."  I wanted to make a little more money, but I haven't been feeling well and it is a relief.  I stock some coffee cups, put some spoons in them, stack some glasses, and miss the door.  "Can you set up 33 please?"  Ideally I'm supposed to hear the door and prioritize it over everything else, because it is important customers feel welcome and at home.  Now the food has gotten cold in the window.  Food delivery is my next priority, instead I'm stacking the cups.  Now a table is dirty and I missed the door again.  Maybe it is good I got sick, how did I manage being a server in 2008 after my episode, I can't even manage server support back up tasks after 8 years of recovery.  Now I'm cleaning the wrong table and I missed the door again.  "You'll get it" echos in my head from the nice server support leader.  I'm not getting it and it has been a month, I feel tired and in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Sit at any clean table!" the server/assistant manager yells as she hears the door and I don't.  "Good greeter" the elderly couple tells me, confusing me for the manager based on my wrinkled forehead.  Ding! Ding ding ding!  Food is up and getting cold, I'm in the middle of clearing a table when there isn't a rush to clear tables.  I know better, but I'm so stressed and tired.  "The biggest whore he has ever known..."  I hear from the kitchen as they laugh histerically.  Can this last day be any more stressful?  Stack more glasses, put up more coffee cups, and put some spoons in them.  I missed the door again, why can't I hear the thing squeak!  Oh, I caught it that time, but it's just someone leaving.   Now I'm staring at it and no one is coming in.  Stack more glasses, the big ones go there, the small ones over there and then the main ones we use.  Fill up some water bottles.  I missed the door again, "Hello, any clean table is fine!" the assistant manager yells.  Stupid, stupid, stupid, what is wrong with me?! it  is such a simple job!  Ding! Oh goog the other support staff got it.  Stack some cups.  "I'm addicted to rolling silverware..."  It's so slow there is time to roll silverware, this place has 5 tables even when everywhere else has none, that is how important making people feel welcome is.  "Any clean table is fine!"  I heard the door, but I was thinking about something and didn't react, now I have two cups, two silverware setups, and two menus.  "She must be hard up for cash, this is what happens to people after they can't be in the business anymore..."  What business?  being slandered by an evil selfish ex out for revenge with unauthorized porn videos taken 2 years ago on the only time I had sex the whole year.  I hate Karl so deeply now, not because of his character or hobbies, but how he treats myself and others.  He is a selfish and mean person who hurts me over and over.  I keep wondering when the slander will ever end and if he actually thinks he has a chance now after he has hurt me this much.  Stack some glasses, check the coffee, and stock some coffee cups.  They say this is one of the most stressful industries.  "I don't feel like I'm in my body right now."  I say to Lexi (not her real name) "I feel the same way sometimes."  she responds.  I'm so tired, this fibroid makes me so tired and I'm introverted, I'm drained in every way possible and I have hours left in this shift.  I want to walk out right now, but if I feel stressed and exhausted they will feel that much more if I walk away.  Stock more glasses, too late to brew coffee, coffee cups are full.  Suddenly the restaurant is full.  "I've been support for all these people by myself." Lexi says.  I don't respond, but the deli was the same way.  I need to sit down, so I go into the bathroom.  I feel refreshed even sitting down for a moment and I feel more alive again.  It's time to close before I know it.  The cook sits next to me sucking on an organic lollipop and another cook puts a $5 in the window.  I know it's part of the rumor and I tell him to stay away from me and how uncomfortable it makes me feel.  It makes me want to find Karl and sue him if I could only verify he started the rumor.  Life is stressful enough without these evil rumors.  Sweep the floors, clean the walls, clean the bathroom, and roll silverware.  It's over and I never have to see that mean cook again, I like him less than the bengali tea girl, she just seems like a nice perfectionist.  A couple people hug me and tell me to come by to visit, but it's never the same.  The people are always so nice in the front of the house, but the work is hellish.  Everyone is hungry, everything happens at once, and if you forget or miss one thing it is that much more stressful.  

I also have nothing to do with the writing of Strumbella's spirits. Not that anyone would think that or anything, but it's talking about spirits in his head and being lost and can't be found so it is vaguely hinting at something maybe a blog like this one. It probably isn't related to stealing the obscure fame of this old blog, but I had to say something. I'm annoyed by how suddenly there is all this attention to schizoaffective and depression and much of it is still ignorant. I don't have "spirits in my head." I have an illness, which can kill me and has almost (sorry I know those who care don't like to hear that). I need patience, therapy, stress management, and medication. But it's a song and it's nice to feel included in pop culture with an isolating disease. It's not a bad song and people seem to like it. It does far better at marketing and appealing to people than this blog ever has. I'm not lost, I have guidance in recovery. I'm finding myself just fine with help and spirtual guidance. I think of them as my monsters I meet with regularly and need to tame. I sometimes picture powerpuff girls fighting them, at least in the beginning before I had enough meds to treat them effectively. But I guess spirits aren't much different, just about as cliche. I never market this blog and have a serious self deprecation problem, people think I'm kidding, but I'm serious. I'm trying to get a more realistic idea of my writing, but it's not easy. My family and friends tell me it's good. I'm scared to show real critics and get a real opinion on it. I saw an editor once, but he never read any of it and then we both flaked out on each other. He wanted me to email him the writing first and write for the Elephant Journal, so I stopped trusting him. Well, I'm at a poetry reading and I need to listen to everyone. I'm going to edit some old entries maybe, since it's mostly approving spell and grammar check. I don't really edit the old entries much except for automated spell check and hurtfulness. I know I still write hurtful things now, but I try to keep it at a minimum.
I should mention I'm also not tied to the philosophy blog lostthekey on wordpress, I don't know whose blog that is, I wish it was mine, but it really has nothing to do with my blog. Well, it's back to Ebay selling. Restaurant work is great when you are in your 20s or feeling healthy, but I'm not feeling well. This thing is my uterus is making me feel tired and depression is coming on too. I have had some psychosis too. Between all of it I'm a grumpy mess. I was so happy and grateful to finally be working again, now I'm grateful to have three more shifts and to have given away the fourth. I need the money, because I really don't want to spend my savings on life expenses. Someone who studies digital or internet history added me as a friend on livejournal. I still don't understand what the big deal is about my blog, none of my friends will tell me and no strangers have given me any clues either. Commenting on livejournal is easy enough, one could google it and watch a youtube video if they were really not sure how. I'm quite confident I'm the original. I started this blog soon after leaving North Village Video, actually I think I started bluevellocent on deadjournal while I was working there since that is when Casey and Grandpa Phil died. I never asked Mr. Moffet for time off to grieve, I just stayed silent and worked through it, with the drive and everything. I love slow paced environments like that, others get bored, I get energized and start thinking of ideas. I haven't watched nearly as many movies before or since then. I always thought Netflix is what took over video rental places like North Village Video, but today someone said Mr. Moffet died and that's why it closed down. So I looked it up, Mr. Moffett sold it to Ann Erwin in 2008 and the Daily Camera wrote this article. I can't look for another job now because I feel too tired and need a surgery soon for an 11cm fibroid tumor (It is the size of a 4.5 month old fetus, so I look pregnant). I hear all these horror stories about people getting surgery and becoming addicted to opiates, so I hope to get ibuprofen for a majority of the pain management & it works. I don't want to go into the situation with the person I was angry with at work, I managed to say something to her and she had no idea it bothered me. I work three more shifts there, so hopefully it all works out. I dunno what it is, I feel bad now writng about it, it seemed like the person I was angry with was trying to save my job, so I feel bad for embarrassing her by blogging about it. Management seems frustrated, because I picked a bad time to get a job. Mom needed money and I didn't want to use my savings to help her. It's hard to turn away a job anyone would be grateful to have in good health, because my health is failing. At least I know I can be on time. I overhear the bosses talking about the whore rumor and the cooks whistling, dude this rumor has gotten out of hand (or my paranoia has). What part of I've been COMPLETELY SEXUALLY ABSTINIENT SINCE APRIL 2014 is hard to understand?! I've had literally 4 sexual partners my whole life, if that makes me slutty I guess I'm guilty. My 4th was such an asshole I really am not interested in having any more (okay it isn't his fault, but I've been hurt by him and think he is out for revenge with these rumors). Yeah sorry Karl, you got me at a time I was vulnerable and lonely, but it's not my usual behavior by any means so you can stop trashing my name and saying bogus shit about me over how I acted one fucking night over 5 years ago. Thanks for reading!

Practice opportunity

This situation has upset me to the point I've asked about 5-10 people for advice. My decision without advice was to walk away from the job, I was too upset and afraid of flipping out. The decision with advice is to stay and use it as an opportunity to grow spiritually. I asked my volunteer job boss and she said to stick with the job and say something if I need to. My coworker at the volunteer job told me to google "how to deal with difficult people". I spoke with a counselor and she said this is my "Bengali Tea boy" which is a Zen Buddhist term for an opportunity to use enlightenment principles. She said to look up DEAR MAN and TIPS from Dialectical Behavioral Therapy. I flashed back to my anger episodes and was fearful, "What if I freak out on this girl?!" I said nervously. She responded, "Have you freaked out yet? Have you done anything wrong?" I replied "Sort of, I got snarky with her." She went over how to have this conversation, "First you describe the situation, when you said this singer sounds like me it was mocking my disability and I felt angry & hurt when you did this, if it happens again I'm going to ___ " I blinked, she continued "Is this person a peer or a supervisor?" She asked "a supervisor," I said, "Be careful how you say this." She said, making a bracing *sigh* for me. Okay, so in less than an hour this therapist might have saved my job. Before the appointment, I was figuring out what to say to quit and getting ready for the therapist to recommend taking me off to get put in some psych ward. But I forget I have these skills and she is right, this is the perfect opportunity to practice these skills on someone. I have my doubts this person will change, even changing myself has been slow and I feel resistant to every little change. I really like the job otherwise and am grateful to have it. The way I felt a year ago I didn't think working again was possible and every little complaint others had about work pissed me off, because at least they had a job and I wasn't even able to work (jealousy). So now I'm off to look up TIP, DEAR MAN, and bengali tea boy. So much for not writing about work, after all this I'll probably be fired for writing about work. Nobody wants to give me credit for my work, until I do something wrong. Poor me, boo hoo.

hidden anger

I sat on the porch watching a grasshopper. At first he froze, wavering back and forth nervously next. When I wasn't staring at him, he slowly moved away. Fear of course. After ten minutes I decided maybe the little bug knew I wasn't a predator, I reached my hand out and tried to get him to go on my finger. He froze again and refused to move forward. I try the same thing with mom's cat. She sits at the end of the bed, so I sit. She gets up and hides under the bed. If she stays, I try to pet her after a few minutes. She watches everywhere my hand goes, when it reaches her she scratches me and I get mad. "Stupid cat! Fuck your cat, she belongs at a shelter!" Cats are supposed to be passive and let anyone pet them. I think about my life now. Women are supposed to be passive too. Depression has left me feeling angry now that the sobbing, can't leave the bed, and constant suicidal thoughts are gone for the most part. I feel guilt and fear for my anger, just as I did for the suicidal thoughts and lying in bed. I'm not much different from that cat, lying in bed and hiding, getting mad when I feel uncomfortable. I'm protected by those around me, mom wouldn't let me or that cat go to a shelter. Like the grasshopper, we're afraid. Work scares me, so does ending up working where I'm disrespected. Now I'm working where I feel disrespected, whether I'm actually being disrespected or not. Workers are told to be passive to authority. I earned my right to be an authority on photoshop or blogging, but nobody needs those skills. If they did, others seem to be taking credit for my blog. People are selfish, just like I am petting a cat that clearly doesn't welcome it and is fearful of where my hands are at all times. I've been a volunteer at Ares for several months now. By now the stalkers have likely figured it out. The boss is friendly & nice and I've gotten used to my coworkers. I just hang clothes, I needed to see if I could be on time and stay calm on the job. I've done both successfully there. I'm not staying calm at my other job and I'm scared. I talk to a vocational counselor tomorrow about it. I asked my doctor about it, we went over all my options. I told her waiting tables was so easy when I was a passive person, I wanted everyone to like me. Now I worry about people respecting me. She said, "Sometimes when passive people learn to be assertive they become aggressive." I remember how awful it was to be around an aggressive personality type like Karl and I felt upset. Now I see why I need to stay in DBT. I want to make the best decision for everyone, but this person is disrespecting myself and others. She ignores everything I say or says something rude when I speak. She can sense I dislike her. She doesn't seem to see those in the support staff as equals, even though technically I have 5 years of serving experience and she has a few months. So now I'm irritated and I have no idea how to manage the situation because they are short staffed. Since it's an ethical situation, leaving and them being temporarily overworked might be better than me flipping out. The problem with anger is it's unpredictable, I can stay calm with someone like Jay for years and flip out over someone hacking my email. Depression was somehow easier fighting to get out of bed than fighting anger. People feel bad for you when you are sobbing and can't get out of bed (sometimes), they are scared by anger. I somehow felt in control of my depression when it was not anger. I did learn to see the signs and escalation phase in anger management, so I'm going to tell the manager how I'm feeling. So much for not talking about work...*sigh*
We make the right turn my friend missed when we got in an accident several months ago, good today I'm safe. We pass the familiar empty field mom says, "The city wants to develop this land, but the people who live here want to keep the view." I dislike change too, but this place is impossible to afford and we could use more housing. Most of the leaves are still green on the trees, but some are already turning yellow and falling. As I recall the leaves in the outdoor pool, the warm pool water with the frigid air I feel glad to be here. "What time shall I pick you up dear?" mom asks. Oh how it feels to not have a car, it's safer with my disease not to own one, but the loss of independence is a daily feeling I've learned to accept. "Oh, let's see..." oh right this is the internet, nevermind those details. "Okay, mom see you then take care, drive safe." I shut the door, oh I forgot to say thank you, how rude. I mumble thank you to myself. Some skateboarders pass me, "I got an egg! It's a Tauros" one says excitedly as he stares at his phone ignoring the road. A mom passes with a child, "That's not something we say to people..." she says gently, but firm to her 5 year old. The clerk was nice, but I forgot a towel, so I was cold. I lock up my stuff in the locker room and head to the shower. All the showers I try are cold, but I skip one. I try the kids shower to be sure it's not a plumbing issue, do I really want to bend down and try to use the kid's shower? Nah, I'll try the last one and just dive in if it's cold. Then I go to the one I missed, of course, that one is warm. I laugh quietly to myself, what a luxury problem, I'll be fine. Several boring events later, I slowly move in. It's always a shock to the system. First my calfs are cold, then my thighs, finally my organs signal distress, I put on my fins and grab the kickboard. Within minutes it feels warmer than the air around me. I use it as a meditation as much as exercise. My thoughts drift off to Karl or the creepy guys doing push ups at the hot tub. Back to how the water feels gently gliding past my skin. I see bubbles and feel splashing from my feet. Waves pass with each swimmer in the next lanes. Inevitably someone splashes me and I feel grumpy, let it slide I remind myself, it's something I do too, nothing more than ripples in a lake. One might think swimming and staying afloat is enough to focus only on the moment. I am so grateful to be able to swim now, it seemed like I'd never learn since I didn't until over age 30. It's been months now, so I can do the strokes without much thoughts and my mind starts to wander into the same thoughts I rant about here, "I'm innocent, why are people harassing me, what is that creepy guy trying to do?..." no Corrine, stop all this, feel the waves, the perfectly warm water passing my skin, the waves my fingers make just above the kickboard. I can do more than one lap of freestyle or breatstroke now, now it is about a fourth of the time. I look around and everyone is passing me doing lap after lap of freestyle, "The only person you are in competition with is yourself, ignore them." I remember Hikaru teaching us. It's a personal battle, just me and the water. It doesn't matter what people *think* I'm here to do, I know what I'm doing. I make a challenge, how fast can I swim with the kickboard, a whole minute?! Trying less hard at a good pace, neither being slow nor fast, it takes 70 seconds. I see one man in the hot tub, he has been there 30 minutes and looks like a lobster his skin is so red. He acted strange, but it is a public rec center. Judgments aside, I start slowing down. I try to get one more breast stroke in and the last lap is a crawl the last five feet to the wall feel like it takes 5 minutes. I jump into the hot tub as the lobster red man leaves, he kind of looks like someone I know and I wonder if I'm snubbing him by not remembering his face. The little girl next to me feels "Punched" by the jets, those jets would feel terrible on a small frame. The hot tub fills up beyond capacity, so the life guard says, "We are beyond capacity, so be mindful of the other patrons." That was a nice way to handle the problem, I wouldn't have been so pleasant. I feel crowded, so I leave for the steam room. I can't see at first, because my glasses are covered in fog, blinding me. I feel the hot droplets of water on my skin and soon I want to leave before 5 minutes is up. Well, that's all for now. Thanks for reading!

Vague plagerism

So apparently Allesia Cara is a very similar person to me. I heard her song Here for the first time today and it was so familiar to how I feel at parties, as I've written here, and I went full psycho at work getting very upset and thinking it was plagiarism. I haven't talked to a lawyer, but my guess is whatever lawyer she can afford is better even if it was blatant plagiarism. I told a wise friend and he said, "Great minds think alike." I'm so embarrassed, I barely know these coworkers and then I go full delusional. Then hopefully they didn't notice me crying or hitting mom's car. I went home to yell about Allesia. How can some 16 year old know herself that well anyway? My IQ is over 119, 140 on a good day, it feels like 80 on a bad day, I journal all the time, and I didn't know myself that well at 16. They say to steal like an artist, it's basically exactly what I do with creative projects, get a little inspiration sure, but don't take someone's whole character and try to say you are them. It seems possible it's just a coincidence and I'm open to that. I noticed all this sudden plagiarism started after I joined a writer's group on facebook and shared the link to my blog. It hasn't helped the blog with fame or making me money, but I have started seeing more familiar writing all over both in songs and even poems read for maybe 20 people at the poetry readings. I get very angry over this and have been known to yell and punch inanimate objects. It seems like working isn't going well. I'm still so paranoid and it's hell to get up. I need to take meds 13 hours before I wake up or it's impossible to get up on time. Then I'm exhausted after every shift and sometimes I get so dizzy I feel like passing out. I suppose this blog is always a target for victimization because it's how my life tends to go. Now my coworkers are going to know I'm insane and disrespect me. I usually tell people I'm disabled, so I guess they assume I'm slow or something, but not insane. I dunno really, there are so many blogs out there why would some pop star pick my blog to plagiarize? The lyrics are not my exact words, so I doubt there is anything I can do. Now the people loving coworker knows I hate people, or at least I say that when I get mad at someone. Most people are selfish, every guy I've dated is selfish as hell, so I just assume most people are as selfish as they were given the chance. I saw an obese black lesbian with her lesbian lover at the mental health center. She made a note to visit the desk where I signed my first and last name, then whispered "It's her" to her girlfriend. Her girlfriend then stared at me with a death glare. I didn't mark down her name, but her initials were likely TT. Why does it matter, I've spent a decade writing a blog, have some respect for my intellectual property. The way they rationalize it is so crazy too, they make up lies about me and sometimes I overhear them. I dare not repeat them, least you wonder if they are right. I feel like my blog has hit a dead end, plagiarists make it cliche, even if I'm the original, other people stealing it make my motivation to write it less. I feel both broke and overworked, but also completely taken advantage of and like my life is in danger over some stupid blog. I sometimes consider deleting it, but that is exactly what Karl wanted. I'd leave it up if only to spite him. I'm not adding any new followers right now, because I'm hiding from Karl. He makes all these fake profiles to stalk me. "Angelie Jones" Oh come on, I knew it was Karl when I added her. Then "she" posts exactly the same causes Karl cares about, *deletes friend* *blocks* I still have the philosophy book dad gave me sitting unread by my bed, yet I'm here writing this junk. Well, thanks if you read this boring entry. If you wish to leave a comment just click the link, I rarely get comments & even allow anonymous entries without logged IP addresses (until someone abuses this privilege). I never care about being famous, but I don't like other people taking my writing and getting famous with it. Most people are cool and everything, but a few misdeeds by the average can feel so hurtful and many misdeeds by someone proud of evil can ruin your life for a while. I should really push myself more, these rants are all so similar. Now I'm going to have to apologize for freaking out and people are going to hate me. Mom loves going to that cafe, after all, this hopefully we can still go in there without feeling uncomfortable.

About the disorder:

Yes, I have real doctor diagnosed schizoaffective disorder. It means I never know what's real, I get psychosis no matter what my mood is, even on meds this is the kind of entry I write. The voices went away years ago, I hope, but I still "overhear" things related to my recent paranoia and we have no idea if it's real or not (it's tricky to reality test what neighbors say). I still get paranoia regularly, but I'm not sure if it's real paranoia or if I'm in real danger (people don't exactly tell you they have intentions to harm you and even normals get diagnosed schizo__ confronted with a similar situation like real gang stalking, not to say I'm not really being gang stalked it's really hard to know). I still get delusions, which are so bizarre I usually shake them off (yeah right, I'm in the matrix & I'm in some weird space-time continuum vacuum or something, "thanks brain", speaking of plagiarism someone else said that and I borrowed it). I keep writing openly about it because it's a stigmatized disorder and it gives people the bravery to accept they have a stigmatized disorder. My insight might help them have insight into their disorder or to see life is okay on meds. Without meds I don't know my name & do dangerous life risking things, so despite how severe it might still seem to you this is a drastic improvement. Copyright Corrine Chancellor 2016

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