Q11 and My Admission

The words in this blog are neither pure fact, nor pure fiction. 


I have been contacted. 

Since then I have awoken in anguish every morning. Our meeting on the outskirts of Q539 was neither exciting or uplifting; in truth it was scary, hurtful, and left me with feelings of confusion, remorse, and heartache. Now every person I meet I wonder if they are here to sway me, lie to me, withhold secrets, and tease me as they do so, as if I were a monkey in a cage. I write this with a hole in my chest, feeling guilt and anger, feeling depression. I look back on the people in my life and wonder who was there living a life of dishonesty towards me; nothing seems real to me anymore. Everything seems fabricated to elicit an outcome that is nothing short of a conspiracy against me, like I never had a solid chance at happiness. I think of my ex wife everyday in ways that do me no justice, like we never had a worthwhile chance to be happy. I hate her and I still love her so much. I hate her because she never could understand me and my feelings. I love her because she was limited with the things she had to do so.

I have no one to talk to about all of these feelings, no point in even trying. If they were brought up to anyone all they would be met with are segmented expressions of staring at a pariah. I haven't talked to anyone in days, yet I forgot who I was with someone a few days ago. It was someone that I could've had a time with, rolling in the hay, yet my insecure feelings bled out into our conversation, not to mention that I now carry with me a residual, dirty reality was left to me by someone as a parting gift. I told my new companion about it because I wanted to not only see what kind of face she would give (disgust) but also because I wanted to see the level of honesty I was now carrying. One conversation and done. I still can't help but see Them laughing at my attempts.

At night I lay in bed and think about how a rope would be able to be hung from my celling and if I could gather enough pills to put me down. My chest feels heavy and it hurts inside. The friends I have (d) were left, as I was knowing that I was going to the place to make contact, and now I seemingly cease to exist in their eyes. I have been forgotten. I have been shredded, tampered with, and led astray for the benefit of science and researchers' amusement and agendas. I now know what bunny rabbits who are given makeup in their eyes, rats that are injected with serums, and chimps that are poked and prodded feel like. It is no wonder that lions that attack their captors inside their enclosures are put down; lions doing lion things, yet they go against the wishes and expectations of their captors and are thus discarded without concern or remorse. "He is still my friend!" I hear in the back of my mind. 

I don't know how to live with what I now know and still find happiness. My life has been wrung out, shattered, and dismantled. I have been cut off by my family (or cut them off rather) and now I am alone, wanting to end all of this suffering, yet I can't. And all that happens is the hole in my chest grows bigger.