Psychosis didn't arrive like a monster. Monsters would have been easier. Monsters have faces. Monsters can be killed. This was something quieter. Rather patient. Something that learned my voice before I noticed it was speaking.
People think losing your mind is dramatic. Now? I think losing your mind is administrative. A thousand tiny revisions made to reality while nobody is looking.
That's what it felt like. Borderline personality disorder felt less like a diagnosis and more like being skinned alive in public. A normal misunderstanding became proof that I was fundamentally unlovable.
I sat there lying to myself for weeks, that somehow I was cured, there was nothing stopping me from stepping into a new light — only that, I was, indeed, psychotic, and slipping away from my internal ability to interpret reality.
I hated myself. I loved myself. Every corner I found myself backed into was some sort of new adventure of a twisted reality no man on Earth could ever experience and survive to say they truly enjoyed. The delusions I suffered from were beyond me.
I stopped eating. My spiritual beliefs went to hell and took me with them. I started to believe in impossible things such as having been hated by all friends and family over things I couldn't be forgiven for. Their jealousy toward me.
I was everything they weren't. It was a bloodbath and a half trying to find myself happy in admitting being above humanity. It was why I didn't associate with people. Why I was a recluse who wanted nothing to do with people by the time I had hit my twenties. Oh God, by the time I was twenty, I'd really had enough of tolerating stupid boys and moved on from being young and dumb. In a total of two years, I managed to simply destroy myself and carry the worst relationship baggage a person could.
The torture it was dating the first male I ever decided to tolerate. He was obsessed with me, forever immaturely stuck on being angry that I rejected him on day one. Word of advice: don't give psychos chances. If someone says "I love you" on the day they meet you, run. Far. Away.
It's insane how people think they can own one another. Slavery was abolished. Yet, you give an ugly profligate your heart and he will believe he has succeeded at something substantially stupendous. His ego. Give me a break.
To make a long story short, I had my heart broken by a freak of nature who continues to hurt women to this day. His own mother calls him a hideous creep. For once, my judgmental mind does not blame her for abusing him as a child. I used to look at their dynamic with angry eyes, straight up pissed at the injustice, having seen the byproduct of a failed mother-son relationship — what true postpartum depression can do to one's child — until I understood his existence was pure evil.
It was hell knowing him and not knowing him. I couldn't leave the fowler without going psychotic. He sent gangstalkers after me to terrorize my existence. Or was it the side girlfriend who did? "Good things do take time!" She once boasted at the worst point of my life. Unlike her, I only used social media to post art during post-break up manic fits.
I walk this path of life alone. I simply thought. Love triangles are for the weak and so I disassociated from the circus that was dating cruel men. If I learned anything, it was to go for looks. Ugly boys will treat you like shit as well.