Moonsquaremars - KÝLL

sauce it up

do too much

ain’t enough

ain’t enough

i really don’t like the stigma attached to schizophrenia.

schizophrenia is almost entirely a “first world problem”, meaning it doesn’t really exist outside of western or developed nations. in many tribal cultures, there are people with otherworldly gifts or abilities that are revered and admired. some tribes even experience group perception of certain spiritual entities or phenomena.

due to western society’s secularist tendency to deny the possibility of metaphysical phenomena outside of the spectrum of “normal” or common human sensory functions. (see, smell, hear)

western society has failed schizophrenic people with a medium with which this extrasensory energy is able to be expressed.

of course there is also psychosis induced from recreational drugs, but that is another topic entirely.

Hard drugs. Hard problems.

Functional + Generational Addiction are hard. Why me, God? Wasn't being gay in the South enough? I didn't fall into the stereotypes. I wasn't a drug addict cliché. No one ever said anything. Why didn't anyone ever say anything?

Kyle. I can see that you are a little fucked up. Or, you look like you had a long night. No one ever said a thing. It turns out because they didn't actually know. Not always. Not even the times I was so sure they did.

222

"a long and difficult cycle will soon be over". That was the tarot card I pulled. It had the moon sign of what the moon would be in on my birthday last year. I saw 222 constantly while I was getting sober.

Well, soberish. Sober-adjacent. Or just drug addict in denial.

But no offense, if you can't tell if I have used, it makes it less desirable to quit. I know the health problems. I know it makes me a bad person. But so did being gay. So why should I care who thinks I'm a bad person or not. I still do though. And it ate me alive for years.

The inner turmoil was the worst of it, come to find out.

Leaving every social interaction wondering if they could tell. If they knew. It started to overshadow everything. Every moment of my day. It was always in the back of my mind. That I had done meth. That I was technically on meth. We all know the stereotypes. But I went to work. I went to school. I paid my bills. I got good grades. I took showers, brushed my teeth. I went to dinners, events, funerals, birthday parties. No one ever said anything. No one ever asked.

But I would read their faces. Their expressions. Any sign or glimpse that they knew my dirty little secret. Any hunch that I was exposed, and that they knew. Oh how terrible it would feel. To be just a dirty drug addict. It truly was Hell. Even worse than being gay.

I wish age gap discourse hadn't spiraled the way it has because I want there to be a safe space to say "Men in their 40s who date 25 year olds aren't predators, they're just fucking losers"

The red planet. Presidential design awards 2000.

Internet Archive

Grey heron/gråhäger. Copenhagen, Denmark (July 14, 2019).

basquiat