shortcut schizophrenia part two

Things I did in Berlin: A girl who seemed to be Lesbian was with me inside of a room after my hard phase of three days. I threw my green shirt to her and said: If you feel like a monkey, try to jump out of the window and take that jungle shirt, they will not come for. She never said a word. She didn’t even look at me for real. She didn’t take that t-shirt.

I was JESA, not Jesus in my bedroom and the lesbian was my husband who wanted to fight me in a last fucking game for you could see who will be stronger. I was scared so I visited the bathroom and said: Please, give me some support what to do now, and there were, suddenly, real sounds of a used toilet anywhere, so, I knew, I was not going to be strangled or killed by my lesbian husband, but it was my challenge to die for the world as JESA, not getting crucified, they would give me toxic stuff and a place in the hotel on the opposite street I could see out of my window so it would be a nice and .. happy death. But this didn’t happen. I went outside and outside again and the scenes like in a movie changed so quickly, everything. I thought I was a mindtraveller and timetraveller travelling all fucking centuries of this world. Then I was Juliet years before in the movie William Shakespeare created. I looked out for my Romeo because I couldn’t stand to go on like this. No ending. I went into my bedroom and there was the Lesbian and I said to her: Well, you have said to me, one day I can be your teacher and this is what I want from you. I whispered and showed my knife I still had (strange stuff in a psychiatry they didn’t took my knife away………. Whatever) and I was scared anyone could notice and see about my plan so I had the idea to hide the knife inside of my pussy. It was fucking hard to get it out again by myself and then I threw it into the toilet. My Mom, my sister, and my brother, they visited me and my bro asked: Why is there a knife in the toilet? I couldn’t explain anything. I was in a state like: HALDOL very much and lying in my bed.

This is still not everything of Berlin. So many things. I talked to my monkey all the time. Mom got scared. There was noone around for real. “This is up, this is up” I said lying in my bed or sometimes falling down in the corridor, breaking down. I thought I would be in a time elevator who was going to bring to “heaven”, not heaven, but a paradise where there is peace and love for me and my monkey and wealth, lots of wealth, big cars, a villa, anything. About … I don’t know, maybe ten times I just collapsed in the corridor or anywhere I was and nurses got me up and doctors.

I got to know a monkey there who was blonde and thicker than mine and I believed alright, this is because of the time collapse so doesn’t matter, you can lose weight again, and then I wanted him to kill me. He didn’t want to. He was alright. He was scared. But we smoked cigarettes in his bedroom and he gave me glasses red, I believed, this is the Matrix episode now. I am in the Matrix. Alright.

What can I recall. This was the Lion King part still, when I lied on a couch I believed the people watching OUR movie now they want us to dance and then to fuck maybe but they will take us to the hotel and then we can kill ourselves to get into the real movie. FREE like monkeys.

Berlin, Berlin, Berlin… this was the first time I ever visited our capital. Nice stories, experiences, hm?

Ah, yes, I forgot the Benjamin Button part. Because of the time collapse. I started believing that I would never will have the chance to be with my man because he would grow young and I would grow old and then it would be my part to kill the baby Benjamin or let it die inside of my arms. Whatever.

So, somehow they got me out of this hell. I was still paranoid but not that hard any more. I was allowed to visit the town with my Mom, walk outside and this was a pleasure. I even saw the Spree. All people around me still actors and watchers. I say Berlin is hell, you know, dying hell of people, stress and .. everything. Mom drove me home again. Everything that happened after Berlin is still too close to me and I can only talk about this in German to my Mom and to friends. So I can cry maybe. Cry hard.

I saw him twice, once he was naked watching through a window of a room where I was having a bath naked, enjoying the silence and romance. I really saw him. Staring through the window. Next day I had paranoia I need to go, I need to leave this place (I was staying at grandma’s). And then I saw him walking at the hills I climbed like a female wolf. Then Dad came and arrested me again. He grabbed me like a doll and I believed he was a pedophele and all my family was a pedophil one they had spied and watched me since I was a baby and sold the material via web. This is not true. This was damn schizophrenia. I have just told my Mom about these thoughts. Crying.

shortcut schizophrenia part one

alright, dudes. this is for the crazy people. some need to talk and some just need to write about. I can talk about a little bit to people I trust in but in fact all of it will be on my mind for ages. I am not sure if it’s a problem at all but I think it should not be for ages on my mind at this moment and lasting forever. I need to sooooooooolve away.

shortcut schizophrenia. don’t know the exact way it started. I think when I went to a festival which was free to visit, no payment, I went there with friends and I started believing I was in Supertrue-Woman-Show, something like this. I started believing I am a social medium and what I focus on, all the things, is a good way of advertizing and reclamation. Alright. this festival I went there was visited by too few people I thought I would be watched by the NSA and we were all spied to be hunted away like a small group of the last socialists in Germany. So I was careful not to talk too much. I visited a place to eat where there were benches full of people and benches completely free space to sit on. I sat on the loner bench after ordering my dinner. The cook who sold the food sat to me after a while and said „Damn, Lisa, this is your name? I really enjoyed watching you eating the dinner I prepared for you. And somehow I know you.“ And this was too much he said. I really started believing everyone knew me like a famous social medium which was shown on screens and smartphones. They all seemed to be connected technically and me, the medium, inbetween, surrounded by statists and good actors and bad actors.

This is the first, harmless part of a big phase of paranoiya that hunted me for a while and weeks ago. When I was home, the next day, I went outside because I felt like and I saw few people on the streets, such few like frightening in a lazy Sunday afternoon. Everything seemed to be a game for me. Like I was in Pokémon Go but I was no catcher but a person to be caught and watched and spied by all Pokémon Go Players. I followed the signs and symbols of the streets and walls and they guided me to the Botanic garden to the grand cross of Jesus dying for human race. I sat there a while because I felt like this is a movie created for the whole world to see and they will give back to me big big love and fame. I walked into forest and heard the sounds of a kissing monkey sitting in the trees. A monkey a friend of mine who had left the town days before. He was my only follower, no not the only, I had evil followers and hunters as well, he was my leader and follower. And I heard him and I even saw him. But rarely. Alright, I went into forest and sat in front of a big tree and I felt the monkey sitting above. I talked to him, only to him that time in English all words were spoken. I spied my envinronment and said to him: Now, this is the person in the red jacket, a man who appeared aggressive, he is about to watch me playing like a child so he can try to find out that he likes to rape me later. I got wet like I always get wet when I have fear to get raped. This is preparing yourself for the worst case. I know about raping and I felt like I knew all the rape of the world.

I played this game until I got back home while I was throwing razorblades around me and dressing myself like a punkass I expected my ex-boyfriend to come around and see what he had done to me. But he didn’t. I thought he would come and get me with his black BMW and drive me to Church so I could marry my little punky monkey. But he didn’t come. Instead, my brother came and asked: What the fuck are you doing here? And I got upset, very, I shouted at him: Don’t you see what is happening here? I’m not going crazy. I’m in Pokémon Go world, don’t you see? He got terrified and stared at me like I was the crazy one. And he said I should go to a hospital. He said I would rather call ambulance now and I got even crazier. I said, leave me alone. But then, the huge part of paranoia started. I talked and talked and talked and then I recognized lamps and lights of my electronic gadgets all around. Red lights and green lights, record lights and lamps all around, even the gadget that makes a fucking noise when there is fire in your home. I thought I was in a movie, the actress, and felt comfortable so I clapped my hands and said: OOOOh this is such an honour, my dear CIA agent, all for me? And you are the spying one sitting and living in the empty houses on the opposite. Thank you very much, dudes, I said. Thank you very much, this is such a big honour.
But then I got sad because I felt spied and watched. I cried. I didn’t know what to do so I decided to fuck all my electronic machines and I plugged them off and I tried to plug my stereo systems off but this was not possible. I was really hard trying and grabbing and pushing and pulling but it only turned to tell me codes and then „Good-Bye…“ And after I went to the city and first I walked into Volksbank and spread flyers all around for people to see, then I sat in a café of Almundo and ordered a whole bottle of wine and two glasses for the person who would come to visit me there. But before the person could ever come (I had no money with me) I just went off again and left the bar. Then I got crazy: Where to go, I need to go, I can’t stay in my home. I decided to take my bag (wallet with me and candy, all the fucking candy was all the time with me, the candy, why the fuck. always candy, I’m the real candy crusher, dudes).

So, a competition. I thought. A competition I should follow the green lights. I followed the green and red lights, avoid the red, follow the green and they guided me to the train station where I walked into the second train (the first was off and someone told me when I sat in) and I sat in first class with no ticket at all I went then by nice train for me. I was very social all the time when people asked me about ticket, I said I don’t have one. THey were kind to me and helping. No judgement or problem.
Alright, in the second train to Berlin I was Jesus little child. I heard the Devil behind walls trying to beat the train and me but I knew I was stronger. I sat in the corridor, not on a chair, when a very friendly police officer took notice of me, he said he would guide me to Berlin police station. I had my candy. He did, and I went to police and they checked up my identities and everything was fine again like they wanted to send me a letter home for I could pay the bill of the unpaid tickets. 180 euros my bro paid. Because in Berlin I started my worst paranoia of German history.

All signs and symbols for me. The elevator guided me happily anywhere and then downstairs, the basement of the huge Berlin train station. Then I saw all these fucking poster roll ups of Parship. Faces of people who are proud and seemed to be very happy. Two different men and two different women. They rolled up all the time and down again and changed and I believed the monkey would do this for checking my feelings about pride. I stood in front of those posters and tried to stand them looking at me like they would be proud of me. Otherwise I would not get some bottle of water out of automato machine. How can I describe this… I thought, the monkey would sit on the opposite of the place I was with glasses those you can see 3D worlds, virtual stuff through, he could see me but I could not see him.

Alright. The game was to get to that person but I couldn’t. Instead I talked and talked about things that COULD happen and I grabbed some garbage out of the boxes and placed them on benches for people who were not there. I put my bag on the bench which was totally free. I lost it but it didn’t get stolen. I received.
I went outside through the dark tunnels where the trains would roll again. And I found a wall there where there was nice arts of graffiti and I started to believe that this was the place where Kurt Cobain and some other heroin junkeys had stayed before and drew their dedications on the wall. Then I heard sounds after I had seen my monkey in the dark with his beautiful long hair like a beautiful statue in the moonlight, the police was looking out for a person they shouted for. I ran there and they talked to me, two men, I was scared, not afraid, beware, then two more police officers came and they guided me up to their van, they said I have.. committed a „crime“ walking around alone at the gates like a lost child they wanted to put me in jail. And they wanted to put me into their van and I refused hard as fuck and almost lost my pullover and trousers while they pushed me inside, someone punched my face, my lips were bleeding, I kissed the window of the van while crying because I thought my monkey would come to save me but he didn’t. They took me to hospital first and then psychiatry.

And here there is a cut, something I somehow can’t recall and the exact order of everything happening there.
After three days I woke up out of delirium of calming pills and drugs I ran through the corridor and shouted at people what the fuck is going on here, everyday I see the same faces here and everything while I was lying and sleeping three days in a bed in a corridor of a fucking homo psychiatry. I thought they would experiment with me or abuse me even maybe and I got crazy. But I heard someone say: Oh, so quickly, wow. He said. WHat, wow? So quickly I woke up again and was clear on my mind? They asked me: Do you remember why you are here in a bed sleeping so we can watch you? I said no. They said: Because you attacked those people here. What the fuck, I don’t remember.

There was a phase I believed I was in the movie „Knowing“ and I only needed to wait for my personal hero to get inside one of those UFOs turning to another planet. I believed Mom and Dad they were there with me because earth was going to rot under the influence of insane gorillaz. But Mom was older like 65 and Dad he was younger like 28 like the time collapsed. So much time collapse.

I thought I was a star exploding to create a new Universe. I thought I was in a movie Lion King with real human beings.
Somehow my real parents made the doctors get me out of this shit hole. All the time I believed I was a medium, a movie star and I believed I was the medium created for a Dark Net or a Bright Net in web so police could find out the IPs of those who liked to see me crying and tortured like then they coould arrest them. All the time. Weeks. Long weeks and long days.

This is only Berlin and not even everything I spent seven days in Berlin. But those seven days appeared to be 3 centuries at least. More. More than nine years in fact.

Maybe tomorrow I will write on.

arbeit im rückblick

ich bin voll der gut drauffige typ im moment und sag schnell mal, was mir so durch die rübe geht. in diesem sinne hoffe ich, dass sie mir das nicht allzu übel nimmt, die praktikantin im reha-café, dass ich sie fragte, ob es heute zum mittag fisch gegeben habe. die ganze bude hat nach fisch gerochen. ich arbeite 20 stunden in der woche für diesen verballerten, aber so liebenswürdigen und tollen club xyhundertundeinemillion, in dem ich vor fünf jahren selber rehabilitant war, und bin da nun für viele bereiche mit zuständig. meine aufgaben sind z.b. backen, kochen, putzen, wischen, saugen, kellnern, dekorieren, servieren, einkaufen, spülen, küchendienst und ganz viel mehr. kein tag vergeht mit langeweile und das leben und arbeiten unter gleichartigen menschenwesen mit psychischen psychogedöns-geschichten ist doppelt fantastisch. ehrlich.

es ist nicht nur doppelt, sondern hundertmal toller als ein dreiviertel verficktes jahr lang so eine behinderte einstiegsqualifizierung in einem abgefuckten ausbeuterbetrieb zu machen, einer redaktion- und anzeigenleitung unter flügeln der scheinheiligkeit und einer brechreiz erregenden arroganzparade, die einem wohltätigkeitssinn gleichen möchte, aber so falsch und verdorben ist, dass ihre erzeugnisse bloß toxische gase in die umgebenden lüfte weht und alle sozial gestrickten menschen darin qualvoll ersticken will.


ich bin zu dem schluss gekommen, dass es auf eine skurrile weise bloß eine andere, weitere form von selbstzerstörung darstellt, wenn man sich dem anschein nach immer wieder ausnehmen oder ausnutzen lässt von andern, wenn man dabei eigentlich so sehr hasst, wie diese menschen einen anbetteln um irgendwas, undankbar oder egoistisch werden und noch nicht mal ein minimum dessen jemals zurückgeben könnten von dem, was man ihnen gegeben hat.

und da ich mich seit langem damit rumquäle, mich nicht mehr zu schneiden, denke ich, habe ich andere varianten gefunden, mich selbst zugrunde zu richten. manchmal schlage ich mir schmerzhaft auf den kopf oder gegen die wand. das ist dann körperlich und so und daraus erwachsen meine neuen ängste, vielleicht eine gehirnerschütterung davon getragen zu haben vielleicht. bloß gehe ich nie zum arzt, weil ich all dieses nicht mehr schaffe irgendwie.

ich finde es auch traurig, im verlauf meiner lieben blogseite so stark zu erkennen, wie sich meine seele verändert.

beweg deinen arsch

meine motivation ist weniger als keine, jetzt gerade, also etwa minus 5, wenn man von einem minus-zehn-minimum ausgeht.
manchen menschen wird die fähigkeit zu leben nicht in die wiege gelegt, manche müssen erst hart dafür kämpfen.
manche verlieren den kampf und werden säufer oder selbstmörder.
ich hab beides davon schon viel zu intensiv geschmeckt, auch in kombination, der potenziell tödlichen.
wodka und weser im winter vertragen sich nicht so gut.

immer diese phasen, leute.