Spread

~(My) heads spread like butter over bread~

Advertisements

Visual distortions outlined

Alone in the mirror

~

I have in the past touched briefly on my hallucinations, whether it be simply visual snow or artifacts my best has been done to properly explain the texture, color, and size of distortions that I encounter. Up to this point I do feel that overall I’ve been almost completely ineffective at sharing what I see, though in my defense it is tough to accurately represent something visual in words… especially hallucinations. So I devoted a drunken day and spent it representing my visual states visually.
~

Making tea to calm my stomach

~
Obviously it would have been incredibly hard to create perfect replicas of what I see but what I did was take pictures of what I was looking at and then manipulated the picture until it looked as I remembered seeing it… That is to say the images are actually incredibly close to reality, at least my own. Within my everyday life these are common occurrences and though they don’t make up the whole of my perceptions they are most definitely often happening… For the most part it isn’t untruth wholly created within my head but my mind’s insolence seems to manifest itself in small distortions of my vision. The most common one likely being a flickering or white noise that flows down walls and flat surfaces…. Every time I look at a wall there is a film of moving perspective washing over it. Placed above the surface there is moving swirling and flickering, giving a droll sort of life to those inanimate objects. Sometimes it will alter colors as well, adding an odd tint to my vision. It will come on like this; I will be going about my tasks as I should, completely unruffled… then I will look at something that I know quite well and realize that it is off in some way. Its too bright, too vivid and completely thee wrong hue, then I will look around and realize that everything is a little off… Ill shrug and move on because it isn’t that big of a deal. The visual snow as well is almost a constant and I actually never noticed it for the longest time because…. well it was just there and thats what it looked like… but then I actually began to think about it a little bit and realized it was not normal. The static and artifacts I think can actually be quite closely related to myodesopsia.
~

“Look how pretty the lights are!”

~
For the most part these are generally unobtrusive, since it’s just distortions on my perceptions and not simply fabricated perceptions I can generally work around them. Actually in many cases what I see can be quite beautiful. Whether it be swirling colors or floating shapes it’s always new and incredibly interesting to look at, with expanding geometric patterns and occurrences they can hold my thoughts for hours. What does cause me fright though is complete fabrications (what you’d think of when you hear hallucination) and my misinterpretation of faces. My head does conjure up things that are not in any sense true and right, things that are more often than not absurd ex. A thumb falling off and rolling away/ A human head rolling out from under some bushes/ or a shadow following closely/. Now frankly those can be be incredibly surprising and halting experiences that cause me to falter in thought but over all I guess you could say that the visions are appreciated.
~

trying to clear up the blurriness

~
Now the next big format of hallucination is facial distortions, these are frightening, debilitating, and simply unnecessary and certainly unappreciated. This happens in one of two ways 1. I cannot remember a face of someone I know well or 2. A face (either my own or another’s) begins to drip/melt and become misshapen.
~
Imagine walking to a mirror and looking at your own face and having it not be your own, seeing someone most certainly… but someone who isn’t truly you. You’re standing there pale as white china trying to find some semblance of a self in your reflection and your eyes start to drop into your head and your pupils seem to be leaking down your cheeks. Your nose forehead and brow becomes exaggerated and the proportions of your face begin to delve in to fantasy. You’re lost in the reflection so fascinated by its lack of resemblance to much of anything and then it begins to hit you. Walloped dead center in the middle of your chest with existential terror. Who are you? Who is that in  the mirror? WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE?
~

fuck… time to sleep

~
There has been more than just a few occasions where faces have rightfully fucked me up… Its due to this seemingly relapsing inability to process expression, or simple what a face is. I try to avoid looking at faces often when intoxicated because that only intensifies the inaccurate perceptions in an absolutely horrifying way.
~

not quite seeing double

~
I will eventually update with more explanation/images but for now i think this is plenty
~
n

“get a breath of fresh air”
my arm is looking a little pink
“you alright? take a seat.”
who’s there?
it does make everything more lively though

Intoxication

~
I feel a strong urge to hide under a vanishing guise of intoxication. It makes me sickly, a lil icky and overall an overexposed mess. That’s all to make for proper bad but what few see is that intoxication brings a very visible void with its existense. For in normal life there is regret, commitment, and uncertainty… When I use something to remove myself I am within a cone of unsolicited nothingness… It’s beautiful in a sense but it is utterly and unexplainably engulfing. It’s a scary feeling for me to experience a lack of control over perception; I need to take a minute, to recalibrate my orientation of motion and aim more towards an existence of controlled steadiness.
~
n

Fucking Kill It With Fire

~
He told me to lend myself to the fear filled fallacies, the hate hollowed horrors that do walk hand in hand with my cheery demeanor. He told me to tell my reason off and reach for that musk of idiocy, the warm and loving embrace of delusion. He told me these things, and I could barely pull away from that held hand he so gingerly presented to me, but for now I have managed to stray away from desire… This once only I presume.

~
n

A Marvelous Affair 

~
A few options he did have within that marvelous affair they called free will. A choice of residence, of religion, of retirement; all of this bundled together and toted about as a cosmic perfection. Thus this life he had so meticulously created with his perfect house and perfect wife had some meaning… It’s truly all really trivial and since he has shifted his cares I can’t clearly see him as anything other than an arrogant prick because of this inherent stupidity that went along with his material growth. Shoddy morality leaked from his every pore, and it made me feel sickly. I don’t talk to him much anymore.
~
n

Flip Flopping

~
Winding down a road of interchanging prosperity and grief… The flip flop of good and bad entwines me, wrestling meaning from my grasp. I find something lovely wonderfull… Something all of my own, and this road of life, this found journey pulls goodness’s ripe corpse from my shaky hands. What I mean by that is, I procure something of meaningful good and then I lose myself to it. This life I have been treated to picks up that goodness and manipulates it, twists it into something much less. And I can feel it happen, I can feel those supports of mine creak and snap as they’re twisted tight.
~
Most the time when this happens I do as would be expected. I am flung harshly into a state of tension and vile suspicions. My head is enveloped by a gaseous mass of perceptual flaws… But eventually it fades, that mass of sickliness dissapates into the rest of the white paneled floor… That snow covered depression of thought envelopes those harsh, intimate reflections… Which is indeed a very good thing.
~
At this point I again find myself happy, confined within reason and surprisingly functional. But I always know… realize that the confusion will traverse it’s way up my minds barricades, trek to the top of space mountain as I might say… It’s a seemingly depressing thought because I know there will be times where I lose I. Where I morph into something odd, I don’t like that decided opportunity…. It’s similar to the way I think about death, I just wish I didn’t always know that it will inevitably happen again.
~

n