I'm Not the Only Stupid Person Here...

I have waited a long time for redemption. Brainz.

Anyway, the internet can be evil...

I'm happy this guy hasn't found my page. Contrary to popular belief, I do not want that kind of attention. Sure, I like receiving a compliment for one of my books, even though they're terrible. However, I'm not trying to be another trashed out star.

It's funny how big of a fit the real attention whores threw when I stated my opinion with my malfunctioning brain. They jumped all over me for themselves.

The brain doesn't work. Go away.

I did have to spread everywhere to survive the clash of titans.

I made a giant mess. I had to claim a little authority there. They started freaking out because they thought the mess would amount to something bad for them. I was like, "You have control. Nothing happens without permission, so just ignore it." All they care about is being seen and promoted. I make them feel important.




My intents were honestly to get my brain fixed. It failed.

I Think I Want Revenge, Not that It Matters Now

I Do Think Campbell is Stronger than I Am

She had stuff going on as well, but it didn't bother her. She functioned still as I whined (still do). I know. She told me to get over it.

I should have.

It's been over six years, not that time means anything to a schizophrenic. Very little has meaning in my shell of a person. I'm not the old Kaela I used to be. She died.

I have deconstructed many of my thoughts, and the horrible things they stood for in reality. It's a shame. It's embarrassing. When you're schizophrenic, a lot of odd cognitive things occur. You think things that you don't want to think, and your thought process runs wild, but you'll still use the same line of thought, even though it's faulty.

I fight through the cobwebs of evil intents. I fight my internal feed as well.

Another aspect that's annoying about schizophrenia is that you hear voices that are wrong. Let me stress that again: WRONG. Sometimes, I want to side with them, want to believe them, but 99.9% of the time, they are bad. I used to consult them for advice, which led me to self-delusion.

Apparently, Campbell made her other roommate crazy. I don't know why they blamed her. It's like when they went after my superiors. It's like... Well, I have a brain problem. I'm working on it. I still can't control everything.

Campbell just has a lot of strength. I think it intimidates others.

This was funny though. They went straight for it.

Wake Up and Be Demoralized

First off, I have issues with relationships. The doctor wrote I have a child-like understanding of them. I guess this is true for a few reasons.

One, I was poorly socialized. I had to have friends to hide from others. I am not valued in my realities. I'm at people's mercy.

Two, another issue is the abuse the school system put me through. If I had an outburst, which I'm famous for, they would blame me, and it would get ugly fast. Everything was somehow my fault. I'd hide myself and wait for the next round of inappropriate discipline. Other parents would fight with me, just like they did in adulthood. Their precious babies were never to blame.

Three, I was kept to a purity standard where I had to have all these false morals nobody follows. It fried my brain.

This has traveled into adulthood with bands like Placebo, Madonna and Bjork. I started to think for myself. Suddenly, I'm selfish, dirty and fake. Nobody but me lives in such a mannerism. In the end, I am wiped clean with a TBI and go about for my next shitpile.

It's different when you're disabled. You know you aren't going to rise (no pity here, mere reality). It's not really a shocker when people pass you by. You can't stop them or even compete with them, even if you had the ability to. I did a number to the stars this last time, however.

Not that it matters...

Another thing: we can't compete. I think about myself... give her a lobotomy! Someone can call me out, and it's over because everyone hates me, as I am useless to them. They can have all these horrible qualities, but, as usual, I have to be purged.

In the army, I had issues with the weak and the strong. I'd like to be strong, but it wasn't allowed. I made friends with dear velociraptors. They wanted to use me--and they did. I kind of walked around in my own demoralized world. My ex had told me I needed human interaction, which I was terrified of for many reasons... and rightly so. I did, and I found Marilyn Manson and the people from X-Files.

Talk about some bad luck.

Holes in Cheese

I haven't written in a while. I don't write to anyone. I live in my hallucination (Lorde's hologram), the one put over me to hide all that creeps inside. Don't push me too far out, or I'll lose what sanity I do have here. Let me have what isn't anything; could it hurt anyone but the insignificant me? I was given a corpse for life, after all.

So, I've gotten a little better at dealing with my schizophrenia. I know now it isn't real, but I still wrestle with it and its deviant ways. It's strange to have to hide what should be silent to other ears, though they always want to know to exploit me.

I've been caught in a bad thought cycle lately. I don't know how to describe this. Thoughts enter my brain and grab hold of me. They are against the back of my own thoughts. When I still felt psychic pain, I would lash out. The medicine stops that at least. I haven't been angry in a while nor bitter.

Life is what it is.

It's better now that the psychotronic people don't talk about those inner demons. I'm going out on a limb and saying interfering makes it even worse because it isn't me to begin with, and I'm guilty for crimes I fight against. My doctor also refuses to talk about delusions. It's for the best. Mine are like gossiping women--most anyway.

Though I do miss some of them, the ones who were ghosts to talk to.

I'm seeing my old friends shine. They weren't ever my friends, and as we enter adulthood, that word "friend" takes new meaning anyway. I know I'm not a loved creature. I'm always the one they don't talk about, the one in the shadows with all the filth as usual.

It takes one to know one. I guess they've done all they can. I will never rise, never be anything more than some fat woman on charity. I can't escape. It isn't within my ability to, even if I had been alone all those years. People have dreams. I'm not allowed by definition, things they forget.

Don't interfere with other lives, they say after destroying me. That's why I hated being special needs and everything else. I'm not privileged with respect or dignity. They don't understand the words they use.



I am guilty by association. Leave me alone! Live by your own creeds. You probably wouldn't survive.

And, as usual, she's shining bright. There is no God!



No, I am not making fun of the mentally challenged with Borderline Personality Disorder (unlike some people). I'm just saying that if Miss Punk Peace gets to live life, why am I denied? It's always me.

The Broken Heart and The"Special" Friends.

So, I doubt you care. I don't expect you to. The main problem comes in when people do for the wrong reasons.

It's true. I was in special education, and the experience left me a little fiery. People didn't treat me right, and I was shunned by teachers and peers.

We all know who is going nowhere.

And here's where the annoying part comes in... we're a cliché now. Bands like "Placebo" use their lobotomy rays to make us shut up. They cluster all of us in the same group, and then it's bye, bye brain.

I think I spoke around a paragraph my entire time in middle and high school. I didn't develop as a person, and I was under a lot of stress from being tormented by people. I had occasional outbursts.

I would like to be strong, don't get me wrong. However, that isn't, and wasn't, allowed. I couldn't tell my abusers to "shove it up their ass" because that would make me a "bully."

They know they can manipulate me.

I know I should move past this, and I tried. Unfortunately for me, I developed a weak spot and had invested emotion. I know the sociopaths love that, and they had me banging walls for a while, like I matter.

I don't.

They think it's funny. We're losers, after all. "Work Bitch?" I was trying. Now it's destroyed, as usual.

Don't all jump at once to judge me. Use me.

The School Shooter and Other Losers

For a good deal of my life, I was accused of being a future school shooter. The idea didn't materialize in my head until it was said constantly.

No, I will never kill your children. It has nothing to do with me being a good person or whatever--Lord knows I'm denied that. Despite a lobotomy, my fire is still ablaze. However, my hobbies are holding me back, an invisible fence, so to say. I like to be out in the snow, write and swim. Prison, thus, isn't my dream.

Anyway, Madonna, Breaking Benjamin and Bjork are all trying to save the planet, and they are doing dirty deeds as their appetizer. They don't know the actual signs of someone who is losing it, nor are they being efficient about it.

I was operated on multiple times. Plus, I'm still heavily medicated...

Indeed, I did go insane. I won't deny that. I screamed, ran and let it all out. I was having one of those realizations; my life is a lie. The rainbows had left my atmosphere.

Plenty of adults go through that. In our culture we have the saying, "Waking Up." Smash a few windows, spend a few nights in a psych world and flip off the assholes of the world, like Putin.

Fuck you, Putin.