Tell me to stop

Tell me to stop.
I probably won’t listen, but still tell me anyway.
Slap me. Hit me. Kick me to the ground.
Tell me to stop!
Put the cuffs on. Arrest me. Put me in jail.
I still don’t think that will make me stop.
Even if I hit the ground face first,
I would get back up and run right into the lion’s den.  
Sorry, I’m trying to get this all up out of my head.
But the voices are shouting again,
And we are not getting along.
You think I’m crazy? You really have no idea.
Tell me all the reasons why it’s wrong,
And I’ll tell you this is the only hell I understand.
I don’t think I’ll ever changed my ways.
Tell me to stop.

My emotions are slamming me into the ground tonight.
Homicidal and suicidal thoughts consume my mind.
But acting on those thoughts take more energy than I’m willing to put forth. 
Tell me to stop.

Decompensation and Mental Illness

I didn’t get but a couple of hours of interrupted sleep last night. My thoughts just wouldn’t lay down and relax with the rest of my body.  I hate days like this.

My thoughts are drifting towards wanting to cut just for the soul purpose of achieving a forced chemical reaction in my brain. But I can’t because I have to go to court in a few hours for the dog ticket. ... You could just wear long sleeves. Nobody would notice since it‘s wintertime. ...  SHUT UP! I don’t want another scar. FUCK! I’m past forty years old, I’m not some young stressed out teen that doesn’t know a thing about life.

I attempted to send my focus elsewhere early this morning by checking out some of the links that people come from when they visit my site. One person linked back to my site quoting parts of my very first post....

“Antisocial personality with intermittent psychotic decompensation.”

They then wrote the following on their site...

“Decompensation or episodes of deterioration are quite common with mental illness. Decompensation means that when a person is stressed out, they withdraw from the situation. Decompensation and mental illness go hand in hand. In decompensation, the person loses control even when they are trying to be on their best behavior. The signs and symptoms of mental illness then keep them from working and they end up having repeated episodes. They show less fear of punishment, and seem to need to do things that excite their nervous system, such as thrill-seeking behaviors.”

Guess whoever this person is, they are using me as an example. It does describe me well, but I won’t follow their suggestion.... Medication and therapy. I refused to take anti-psychotic pills and I don’t have the money for therapy. Besides this is my therapy. It’s worked so far. I’ve been on here for a little over 4 years now and I haven’t killed anyone or myself. I still think about doing so quite frequently, but as long as I continue to seek out other alternatives that excite my nervous system, no one’s life will end today by my hands. Unless of course some jackass at court pushes my wrong damn button.  

Final Ending

She sat alone in front of the computer, trying to talk herself out of the latest thoughts that were consuming her mind. But she realized there was no hope. No matter where else she tried to take her mind, it ultimately led her back to the only option she felt remained. She would have to die for what she did.

She silently scanned through all the family photos, stopping occasionally to recall fond memories of past Christmas get-togethers. Tears rolled down her pale face as she revisited her favorite photos from the past 20 years. To calm herself, she reached for the bottle of Tequila and poured the last shot into her glass. With one swift motion, she threw the liquid down the back of her throat and swallowed the last of the intoxicating brew.

She wiped away one last tear as she stood up to throw the bottle away. Immediately she felt the effects of the alcohol as dizziness overtook her mind. She tried to shake off the feeling, but she knew death was lurking around, waiting to lead her off into the afterworld where she would finally find peace. In the back of her mind a tiny little voice began talking in rhyme.

No one will see
When the last breath leaves me.

She stood silently listening to the voice, swaying back and forth on unsteady legs. It was almost midnight, and she had already cleaned everything, put things into their proper place; it was now just a waiting game. On the computer she had already written her last words.

To Whom Every Reads This

I won’t be alive when you read this because I’ve set this blog to not post until 2am, and by that time my life will be over. I just wanted to post this so I could say goodbye to everyone, and to tell a few last secrets before I go.

First of all I must confess that my father’s death was not due to a medical condition. I tainted his medication in a way that it caused his death. I’m fairly sure I got away with doing what I did, but there are still days when I feel like I’m still running away from what did so many years ago.

Committing murder is scary even after years have passed, you always wonder if the police are going to discover the real truth. Still, I know I did the right thing. He deserved what he got. He was not a good man, and he couldn’t be allowed to continue doing to others, what he had done to me.

To Trooper Mike
You finished smashing any remaining hope I had. You took that last spark I had, and once that was gone, there was no more fire inside me. I felt dead. If I could go back in time, I would burn your flesh until it turned to ash. Instead, I turned the anger inward on myself, inflicting open wounds on my body. I can’t do this any more.

Now, this must end,
There are no more undamaged areas on my skin.

I can no longer take what all this, and more, has done to my mind. I’m tried of trying to make the voices in my head stop arguing. I just want quiet. People say I’ll go to hell for what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do, but I believe I’ve already been living there for years.

To Law Enforcement
First, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’m about to cause you, but it couldn’t be helped. What I did had to be done. I won’t go into the long explanations of why I did what I did, but just to say I had my reasons. Next, in the backyard there are several graves with bodies of those around me that I killed. I buried my family and those damn fucking dogs that they loved so much. I also killed my neighbor and her dog, mostly because they just got on my nerves. After that you need to go to my sisters, brothers, and my mom’s house. I didn’t bury their bodies, so you might want to get to them before they start making a bad smell.

There’s no one left to grieve over my death, I didn’t want anyone to worry about feeling like they were being left behind. I killed anyone who might have cared.

At 1am tonight, I shall die like all the others. Maybe we will reunited in the afterlife and discuss the option I took. See you all in hell.

Goodbye

She looked at the last few words, “See you all in hell.” Anger consumed her body, and out of frustration, she began repeatedly hitting the wall. She began screaming and picked up the empty bottle of Tequila and threw it against the wall. Pieces of glass shattered everywhere, some bounced back and cut her face and hands. More landed at her bare feet, and when she stepped forward, shards of glass penetrated the soft flesh of her foot.

She picked up another half empty bottle of liquor and began pouring the liquid down her throat. It burned like gasoline going down her windpipe, but she didn’t stop until the bottle was empty. She stumbled as she threw it against the wall, shattering it into a hundred pieces.

The voices returned and began shouting that it was time to leave. She slowly made her way to the front door and unlocked it, so that it would be easier for law enforcement or medical personal to get inside, then she drunkenly staggered back in front of her computer.

The time was 12:34, leaving her less than thirty minutes before the time she had chosen for her death. She smiled as she looked around the room. It was spotless, other than the trail of bloody footprints and broken glass. One of her many voices wanted to clean the mess up right way, but there was no time left.

She picked up a lighter and lit a candle, then a joint. As the smoked rolled passed her nose, she watched the flickering flame of the candle dance in the darkened room. The alcohol, the full bottle of pain medication, and now the joint, sent her mind into another place, and she just laughed at the thought of finally having power over those who have only cause her pain throughout her life.

This was it. She put on her favorite late night slow music, and waited for the darkness to surround her body and take her to another world. As the police drove past her window one last time, she smiled and closed her eyes knowing she would no longer have to deal with psycho thoughts.

December 21, 2012

Psycho Thoughts

Am I wrong for thinking about wanting to kill with my bare hands? Or enjoying the sensation of squeezing the life from what disgust me the most?

I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now, but I never wanted to say anything mostly because it involves a good friend. Several years ago this person gave my son a puppy, and I agreed to let him keep it, even though inside one of my many voices loath dogs. Over time I was able to build a privacy fence and put him in the backyard so he could run freely, and stay out from under my feet.

My son thought our dog was lonely being outside all day, so about a year later, we got another dog. This time a female. Within a year, I had puppies to deal with. My good friend/neighbor fell in love with one of the puppies and took a beautiful brown female to her house next door.

A couple years passed, and my dogs do what most outside dogs do... They try to escape. I began a daily ritual of inspecting the fence for new holes that my dog, or my good friends dog would make in our connecting fence. Still, no matter how hard I tried they somehow managed to occasionally escape.

It became really bad when her dog came in heat, and she would leave her dog in the backyard all day. The dogs destroyed the fence trying to get to each other. It didn’t bother them at all that he was her father. That’s just what dogs do.

Sixty one days later, her dog was having the incest puppies outside on the ground. I came over to help my neighbor out, since neither her or her dog knew what to do. I had to pick up the puppies, still enclosed in the birth sack, break it open, clear the fluids from their noses, and then stimulate them until they began to breath on their own.

I helped out my neighbor because she’s my friend, but in the back of my mind a part of me wanted to do what my father did to unwanted puppies.... Smash them all in the head. Out of six puppies, four lived... the two were stillborn.

The puppies are now almost 6 weeks old, and all though they are cute and healthy, I can’t get past the fact that the mom and the puppies have the same father. It makes me want to vomit every time I see them. I don’t know how to get past this other than just not seeing them and hope my friend quickly gets rid of them.

I’ve read that most women serial killers, kill by using poisons. I’ll admit that I have used this method to dispose of a few unwanted things in my life, but so far no people. (One of my voices giggled when I wrote that and whispered... "I’m not going to tell you what those things are because I’m not fucking going to jail"). For me, I think If I were to kill someone, it would probably be a pedophile or someone who commits incest, and then I wouldn‘t poison them. Instead, I would inflict painful injuries to their body until they slowly bled to death or died from trauma to the head and genitals.

I struggle with thoughts like this, sometimes for days at a time. Different people that I have talked to over the years, tell me I need to move on with my life and stop thinking so much about the things that occurred in my past. That’s not easy, when good friends have friends that are registered pedophiles, they live on your block, shop in the same stores, you hear on TV or online about the horrible crimes they committed against children or their own children, you see them with other children, and I know in the back of mind what is going on. It breaks my heart, and sends me flying back in time.

The same thing happens every time I see my friends puppies. It’s like a sharp slap to my face, telling me no matter what I do, I can’t stop it from happening. That’s what hurts the most, knowing I can’t do a damn thing. It gives me that helpless feeling, and that in turn makes me angry.

I beginning to think that maybe poisoning something’s in life might not be a bad idea, if it were to give me back some of that helpless feeling that was taking away from me. The only thing that keeps me from doing anything psycho, is one of those voices in the back of my head, that is floating down a river on a inner tube, doesn’t want to come out the water, and that is the one who that carries out all my insanely psycho thoughts.

************************

I’m thinking about going on a violent killing spree,
Taking out those who have caused me only misery.

But maybe I’ll just shoot them in the knee,
Leaving an open weeping wound for all to see.

Let them go on struggling to forget every day,
Only to have the haunting memory never fade away.

Hell, Maybe I'm Just Plain Psychotic

I’ve been spending a vast amount of time doing things ‘normal’ people would never consider doing, or even having the thought cross through their mind. Most of the time, I feel very little remorse about having psycho thoughts, so when they begin, I will sometimes let them bury me in the deepest hole, or fly me to the moon. I have safely done this in the past, so at that moment, I felt I had no reason to refrain from indulging in my hunger for stimulation. I just wasn’t fully aware of where my thoughts were going to take me this time.

Even to me, there is no obvious motivation behind what I did. Maybe it was because of my desire for excitement, or I was yearning for something more than my usually boost of adrenalin that I get from speeding. I just know that I had a strong overpowering impulse to deliberately do what I did, in order to relieve the intense tension that I’ve been experiencing for the past several weeks now. I was at a point, where I was willing to do anything in order to shock my system back to some sort of ‘normal’.

I’ve just been feeling incredibly powerless to cope with all the stress in my life, and the psycho thoughts were consuming my every waking breath, so I repeatedly began seeking out means to discharge all the tension by doing various activities, including many that are illegal, but caused no harm to anyone. Each one that I attempted, failed to help me stop the burial of my mind. With no control of my impulses, I went to extreme levels, but my actions finally managed to induce the euphoria that my mind needed/craved in order to stabilize my moods.

It has been many years since I had to bulldoze that hard to get out of my depression hole, and I hope I never again have to manufacture that kind of excitement, in order to elevate a potential crisis. At the time, I couldn’t envision any way to achieve the relief my mind was seeking, so when the opportunity presented itself, it occurred without thought. The euphoria continues to linger as I think back to my actions, which has been very helpful in stabilizing the chaos in my head.

It’s Labor Day weekend, so I’m going to have a couple of mixed drinks, and stay in the safety of my asylum for the night. Tomorrow, I’m going for my long walk in the woods at the back of Lambert Park, and enjoy the freedom my mind is experiencing.

I am writing this to prove

I once lived in a world which didn't understand

nor cared enough to find out...

Hide the Keys to the Gun Case

I’m just a girl who doesn’t know who she is
Because the mind I once had, suddenly became his.

For all I really know, I might not even exist.
That’s one of the reason I sometimes cut my wrist.

If I wake up tomorrow and I don’t know who I am,
Will anyone tell me if they give a damn?

Maybe some friendly person will take pity on my soul,
And tell me all the things that will make my mind whole.

*********************
The truth is they will just let me parade around like a delusional person trying to find something I lost a long time ago.
*********************

Light Up a Smoke and Stick Around for Awhile

Today my thoughts are running around in all the wrong directions. I tossed and turned for almost 6 hours of sleep before I couldn’t stand laying in bed for another minute because of the pain in my knees. I started going to psychical therapy last week to learn new exercises to help strengthen the muscles around my knees, so I can prepare for surgery in a few more months down the line. I’m told I have to have total knee replacements if I ever want to walk without pain again. Not sure if I want to go through all that. Still, the therapy seems to be helping with some of the relentless pain.

To help take my mind away from the unbending pain, I began pondering things like, ‘What would happen if I ....” Soon the thoughts turned intrusive and bore deep into my recesses of my mind, and hung around like open sore that you keep picking at. Here is a few things my mind explored today.


I wonder what would happen if I ...

If I... Walked down a road with heavy traffic rushing by at 65mph, and I ‘stumbled’ in front of the passing cars, would the firemen come to wash away all the blood?

If I ... Found the tallest building in Tulsa and went to the roof to jump off, would anyone care enough to stop me?

If I... Picked up my hammer and smashed my computer into a thousand pieces, then threw it out into the street, would other people understand?

If I ... I saw someone wearing a bullet proof vest, could I aim for their head or crotch and still be able to kill them?

If I ...walked into the store and got an overwhelming urge to smash all the eggs on the floor, would I have to clean it up?

If I ... Swam down into the deepest water, could I make it back to the top in time?

If I... Took a baseball bat to the police station and just went crazy breaking all the windows in their new patrol cars, would I kick them in the nuts when they try to arrest me?

If I ... Burned something, could it be put back together?

If I... Interrupted Obama during one of his speeches, would I be tasered?

If I ... Stab myself, will I survive?

If I ... Stuck my hand in the garbage disposal, would it hurt?

If I ... Used an assault rifle, how many could I kill before someone stopped me?

If I ... Closed my eyes while driving, and pushed the gas pedal down a little harder, would I wreck?

If I ... Jump off a tall building, would that end the fear of me falling?

If I... Carry out one of these urges, will I find myself levitating with a extreme mood lift and accompanying euphoria?

Quote:
Others may think you are crazy,
but it is the genius inside you that is giving you those thoughts.
Let your crazy thoughts come and success will follow.

Other things I keep thinking about...

I keep thinking, “If I didn’t love them... I would put them out of their misery.”

As I stood behind a man at Wal-Mart, I thought about picking up one of the steak knives in my shopping cart and plunging it into the middle of his back because I felt he was looking at a little girl in the wrong way.

I saw a highway patrolman and couldn’t stop myself from following him into Q-trip, just so I could think about how it would be to take his life with my bare hands.


Acknowledging the darker, evil part of my human psyche... It exist within us all.

Being aware of the evil within allows me to control it, rather than merely ignoring it and letting it fester through my being to the point where it can overwhelm me when I loose control.

Once you get right deep down into the core of a persons being, we're all evil, malignant assholes who probably deserve to die.

Just how else could humanity come to sit at the top of the global food chain? Only by being the smartest, toughest, most bloodthirsty motherfuckers on this rock.

Can I control these intrusive thoughts?
Can I trust my own mind not to do something stupid?
One thing is that I am usually too damn busy or lazy to act on them, but of course if I get a day when I’m not tired, or busy... Then the world better watch out.

I’ll be alright, as long as the breaks don’t fail.

*************************
My court is tomorrow. I was hoping I could come up with enough money to pay the damn ticket before having to appear, but it looks like I'll have to make payment arraignments. Damn I hate fucking court! Too much stress. I don't do good with stress. Guess, I'll just have to come prepared.

Ways to Annoy People ( and get even ).

I’m thinking of every possible method of harassing, and annoying someone to the point of insanity.


Put Vaseline on their car door handles.
Write their name and phone number on a public bathroom wall.
When you are talking to them, stare back and forth at their eyebrows.
Sign up their e-mail address on spam websites.
Steal their pets and wrap them up in duct tape.
Sign them up with a music or video club, picking out the types you know they don’t like.
Send an anonymous love letter to their house, telling them you will by stopping by at midnight, but never show up.
Unscrew the light bulbs in their house just enough so they won’t work.
Place syringes around them or in their cars, and then car the cops.
If their pets really annoy you, kill them, then run them over and toss them by the side of road so they look like road kill.
When they are gone use their water to water your lawn.
Leave carrots on their doorstep at night.
Clog up their toilet.
Mumble when you speak to them.
Constantly remind them of bad times.
When doing something illegal, use their name.
Drop Alka-Seltzer into their fish tank.
Plant marijuana by the side of their house.
Go to a party, but give them the wrong directions.
Use lamp oil to kill their lawn in spots.
Tap needle size hole into a dozen eggs and sit them in the sun for a week...egg their house or put them under the seat in their car.
Place ad on Craigslist, selling their car for only $100 dollars.
Send out announcements to their family, saying they are having a wild sex party.
Turn on their oven when they aren’t looking.
Put Saran Wrap over their toilet seat.
Turn their car stereo up all the way before they go somewhere.
Follow them around smiling a lot.
Spread nasty rumors about them.
Make a fake pipe bomb and leave it on the street in front of their house.
Use a ice-pick and punch holes into their car tire.
Ask to use their phone, call 911 and put the phone down, then leave.
If you have cock roaches, catch some of them and release them at their house.
Put a condom fill with Mayo, in their mailbox.
Make several indoor sale signs with their address and place them around town, telling people just to come right in.
Put big chunks of broken glass under their car wheels.
Use their trashcan for all your garbage.
Break into their house while their gone and leave their refrigerator open.
Buy a piece of fish, leave in sun to two days, then put it in their car.
Get their credit card number and charge all you can to it in one day.
Put crayons on the dashboard of their car.
Put a small amount of soap in the end of their toothpaste.

The Shame...so much shame

Tonight I’ve got suicide on the brain
over here typing because my head is screaming angrily at me
trying to rally other parts of my brain to shout the voices down
I hate myself for thinking like this.
I hate my mind for working this way.
inability to conduct coherent conversations
do excuse me if I go quiet,
or chuck a half-assed rant your way sometime soon.


I'm not feeling so good recently. My mood has switched into something nameless. I can’t describe it; a kind of shaky deadness. It is so strange how you can be okay for a while, enjoy life, live normally, and then, just when you breathe, overnight it all comes back. You’re crazy again, hurt again, suicidal again.

When I am stable, I don’t think about my mood every day, every hour, every minute. When I fully recover from a mood episode, I am horrified at myself, the monster that took over my body for a while. I think back to my meticulous suicide plans and all of the details and it is as frightening to me as if I had planned a murder. And how I acted. The shame, so much shame. Worse than being drunk in front of everyone, but similar in tone.

A few rough days and nights, a heat wave, exhaustion, the mood swings again, and I am back to wishing I weren’t alive. Moreover, I’m so restless and so very fucking angry that I can’t help thinking about jumping off buildings, a giant fuck you to the universe, for giving me everything except the ability to live with it. And for some quiet. To know that I will never, ever, have to do anything I don’t want to do again.

When every moment of every hour of every day consists of something you don’t want to do, and everything you see in the possible next ten years is more of the same.

Do you ever get the urge to run and run and then run some more? I’m not necessarily thinking of the Forest Gump type of leaps and bounds, but just something to shake off the feeling I have right now. I feel so restless that I wish I could be in a field and just run to the mountains, and never look back.

But it’s dark, and 2 in the morning. Besides the roaming bears, wolves, coyotes or cougars would consider me fair game and probably find me hard to resist.

So I think a shot or two of Jack is in order and then it’s time for bed.
Damn.

MsPsychos Thoughts

April 4, 2008

I finally fell asleep around 5am this morning. Before finally fading off into a deep dreamless sleep, I kept thinking about when I first started having intrusive thoughts. I think it started somewhere around age 8 or 9 when I was being sexually abused. I would make my mind go somewhere else while my hands were tied above my head, and pictures were being taken with an instance camera. I would just squeeze tightly closed my blue green eyes and begin telling myself a story about whatever I could think of. Sometimes it would be about my knight in shinning armor on his white horse, riding in and slaying my father. A razor sharp sword to the middle of his back, blood squirting out in all directions, his heart sometimes on the end of the blade being held high into the air by my rescuer. Sometimes I even imaged the hand of God reaching down out of the sky, grabbing him, throwing him threw the air, smashing his body against a concert wall, or throwing his body over a cliff. I would secretly smile watching his body fall far to the earth below, smashing into the sharp, jagged rocks below, brain matter, guts, blood, squirting everywhere.

But no one ever came. No knight, no hand of God, no one. After a few years, the thoughts just became a normal process for my brain. I didn’t have to think about my reality around me, so I began enjoying the moments I could let my mind go somewhere else.

I used to keep a diary when I was around that age, writing down the stories that I had imaged while being abused, and even some of the things my father did to me. One day, someone found the little white notebook, and I became so frightened that it was my father and he would beat me, that I stopped writing anything for a while. Instead at night before I would fall asleep, I would tell myself a story until I would fall asleep. I don’t know if it was my father who found it, or someone else, but afterwards my father didn’t touch me again until around the time my younger brother was shot.

Now days, without even thinking about it, when I get stressed, my mind begins telling me stories. They work their way into the deepest parts of my brain and just mingle around like at a some big social party. The more I tell myself not to think bizarre thoughts, the more intrusive they become. I began writing down some of my stories in 2004, in hopes of being able to get the thoughts out of my mind. I think I was worst in 2004, I felt like a ticking time bomb. Writing since then has released a few demons, even though there are many more still crawling around in my brain.

I may have these MSPSYCHOS THOUGHTS, but I believe that is mostly what they are, unwanted psycho thoughts and nothing more. I have no plan, or intent to do anyone harm.

Feeling out of Control

I feel so out of control. Almost homicidal, suicidal, as if the pieces of me that have been a whole suddenly aren't and are off on their own, doing their own things, popping in and out like a radio station almost too far away to pick up clearly and reliably.

I hate this feeling of not being entirely in control of my reactions to things. I could go back to a psychiatrist, but how many can a person see, how many meds can a person try and still be in trouble? if insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over, but each time expecting different results, then isn't it insane to go to another doctor? Is it irresponsible not to go if it never works? And if it never works, is this what I have to look forward to, this increasingly fragmented blob of reactions I can't predict or control?

For now I have decided to self medicate.

The little Secrets that no one knows.

Giggling little rats running
Around inside my walls.

Penguin’s slap each other
Then dance a little dance.

Knock, Knock open up
The squirrels are coming in looking for a big nut.

Alive, growing, staring, listening,
Damn those plants hanging near the window.

Good cop, bad cop
I can’t tell a difference anymore.

Vigilant ducks embroiled in a revolution
Eyes, voices everywhere.

Peel the skin from my face
Because store bought cookies are cooked with coach roaches inside.

Going to sleep with a heart full of fear.

Wiping away the last little tear.

Cannot simply be willed or wished away.
My OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) is in full gear. Maybe it’s the bi-polar part of me that is on a high right now; making me feel like everything around me is so unsanitary, nasty, gross, to the point that I don’t want to touch anything unless it’s with gloved hands. Life-long disorder. That’s one of the reason I don’t want to be arrested, but I fear it will happen soon, and I just don’t think I can handle that right now. Constant thoughts about death. It will be just like the last time I went to jail...I have a panic attack, freak out, and the next thing I know I’m either getting the shit beat out of me by some officer or if I’m alone (even in jail) I will cut myself.

Antisocial behavior.

Honestly I don’t want to do that because I already have enough scars on my arms that its even gross for me to look at them. Jail brings on so much stress, anxiety, and panic feelings that I decided I just can’t deal with going back to jail.

Loss of contact with reality.
So all alone with my thoughts they drifted towards odd thinking and I begin to wonder, “If I hire a killer to kill myself, will I still be arrested for attempt murder if I’m caught by law enforcement?”

Inability to enjoy life.
I’m not really sure, but I know I’m not about to ask that question online. I think I’m just going to check around with a few people that I know and see if they know someone who would be willing to kill me.

Disorganized thinking.

Hallucinations.

I’m just too much of a fucking chicken shit to do it myself, and suicide by cop might not work either (they would probably just fucking miss), so maybe a professional might be able to get the job done.

Hearing Voices.

You’re so fucking stupid!! Nothing but a drain on society.

Not worth the two bullets I would have to use.

I’m a failure...
Failure to learn by experience
Failure to follow any life plan
Failure to conform to social norms.

I’m constantly having difficulties with authority figures. What is the point to living? I’m not really living. Everyone will be much better off without me.

Psychosis
Worthlessness, inappropriate quilt, helplessness
No energy.
Headaches, no relief.
Hearing voices.
Bizarre behavior.

I think I’ll spend next weekend drowning kittens.

It’s going down…anywhere you meet me guaranteed its going down.

WTF?!!!!!!!!!!!! Why won’t my mind shut down? I want it to just shut the fuck up!!! I want to hear nothing. My hope is if I get all the ‘bad’ out of my head, my mind will be quiet enough to sleep. Last night I only got about 3 hours of sleep before I was awake again. It’s almost 1am and I should be really sleepy by now, but instead my mind is running full speed with a thousand memories, thoughts, and ideas. I want with all my mind, body, and soul to be able to stop thinking about all the negative things that have happened to me in my life. But I’m always seeing, smelling, hearing, or feeling something that reminds of the things that were done to me. Then the rage begins, and I want to lash out at somebody, or something just to get rid of the way I feel. If I explode in a violent way, afterwards I will have a ‘crash’ of my system, which will then make me feel ‘normal’.

It’s going down…anywhere you meet me guaranteed its going down.

AssClown

Someone who does something really stupid, and it results in negative consequences.
I can’t get the thought of suicide by cop out of my mind. Everyday, several times a day on the really bad days, I think about it, I dream about it, and how it will happen.

My whole body mind and soul hurts.
My mind is now blank,
But when I try to sleep my mind is filled with noise.
I feel nothing, yet I feel everything.

I’m trying to do all the things that I know that works to help bring me up out of this state of mind. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t want to injure myself just to make myself feel better. So instead I do really stupid shit, like fuck with law enforcement. Yeah I know that’s crazy as hell, but it works. What would you do if you’ve tried all the ‘normal’ ways to end your ‘crazy thoughts’ or depression, and it didn’t work? Then one day something happened and it woke you up like an electrical shock, and you no longer felt insane. Would you then continue to seek out a way to recreate that same feeling? I sometimes do... if I want to continue to live without injuring myself, and maybe one day succeed in taking my life, even if I didn't really me to.

Sorry to all those that I fucked with, but I have to do what works…Thanks NightOwl, Baker, Lawdog, Hollywood, Armadill, Cane, Mish, RedDragon, LEF, and anyone else who I might have forgotten. I'll try not to be too much of an AssClown.

The girl with the broken smile.

Life is like a jigsaw puzzle…it’s handed to you at birth, and slowly as you age you put the pieces together. And just like any puzzle sometimes you lose piece and have to take out time to look for it then put it where it belongs.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost too many pieces.
I lost my first piece the day my daddy took my innocence’s away.
Being told I was a nobody, scattered pieces everywhere.
Tears washed a piece away the day a good friend died.
I lost several while I was busy using drugs.

Anger scatter even more when I realized how hard it was to try and move on with my life. A bargain with the Devil burnt a few pieces around the edge, and left a piece missing near my heart.

My puzzle is a big mess and I’m running out of time to find all the pieces and put it together. I’m afraid there are some pieces I may never recover no matter how hard I try.

Shocking and alarming Thoughts

Society turned me into a disease.

Sometimes I feel like I want to do the craziest of things.

You know, like killing something or someone just to watch it die.

Spit open its stomach and feel the hand warming sensation of ruby red blood as it slowly drains from your victims body.

Sometimes I hear voices and they tell me to do things.

Where darkness stands defiant to the break of day.

You spend a lifetime of walking...but where did you go?

I relive the past. I feel the past.

I have such vivid, painful memories, flashbacks, if you will.

I can almost feel 'their' hands painfully squeezing me.

I can even sometimes smell the stench around me.

Contemplating suicide.

You wish you were already dead as you hold the gun up to your head.

I want to take him and string him up by the hind

quarters like a deer being hung up and skinned.

I want him to be alive as I run the sharp knife blade down his stomach to his nut sack.

I just like to watch sometimes.

More weird shit…I’m hooked on watching violent pornography.

I’m not gay but I like watching a man get fucked hard in the ass.

I like watching the pain on his face.

Antisocial personality with intermittent psychotic decompensation.

I'm trying to do the right thing.

I can’t believe it’s been one whole year since I stole anything. I know that might not mean much to other people but for me it has been one hell of leap forward. I feel if I can beat my first addiction, why not the rest?

I’ve become a member of several different sites, using different names just to see how people react to my different personalities. It’s something that I’ve found that I enjoy, and it keeps my hands and mind busy. Its funny how people react to a name, some never bother to find out about the person, they just see a screen name, decide they don’t like it and ban that person. I’ve gotten my kicks that way a few times. I’ve signed up calling myself a troll, only to be banned the second I printed a word.

I used the name Thief at several police sites, just to see what the reaction of the officers would be. It was funny…some officers just flat out hated me, while others wanted to know all about me and what made me become a thief. Hehe…and some were turned on so much by thief that they wanted to meet her. Maybe they seriously wanted to put the fuzzy cuffs on me that they were always talking about.

I have a couple of serious names that I use, and go to the same sites just to see how people react to that personality. It just amazes me how different people can be fooled into believing things that are not true. Playing the serious role is just not as much fun as playing the bad guy.
I have to say Ms Psycho has turned out to be as much fun as playing thief. Once again I have gone to police sites, just to see how the others will react. So far I’m playing along, and playing nice. One night when I get bored maybe I’ll tell everyone who I really am…hell who knows maybe they’ve already figured it out.

All I’m trying to do is not go through with my plans. The plans hang there over my head, like a bloody corpse that has been laying in the sun for days. I want it all to go away, but it won’t, so I do what I have to do to make it go away.

Unpopular speech is the foundation of the country.

Freedom to speak one's own mind.

Social rejection is more frightening than the seemingly remote possiblity of death.
Kids laughing at you.

More readily accept you into their group. Fit in where you can.
Teachers themselves can sometimes be the problem.

We create terror to help us understand our own fears.

My wish to die would sometimes only be a momentary feeling. Other times the impulse to end my life would last a few hours or sometimes a few days.

I never wanted to say anything after my father had touched me, because I didn't want to 'make trouble' for the family; enough was already going on. "Whose going to pay your brothers hospital bills if I go to jail?" Perhaps I should just run away and never be found again. Counted squares on the ceiling to keep my mind off what he was doing to me. ...I couldn't contribute to the division of my family.

FOREVER SILENT

My heart is beating hard in my chest, my stomach is quezzy, I'm sweating, sounds are distorted, feel dizzy...I want to throw-up.

The world is so unkind.

Do y0u find my behavior distrubing?

I like to taunt the police. Pushing the edge of defiance. When has justice been as simple as a rule book. We blindly put our trust in those of power.
You need to tighten up that bullet-proof vest.
Shooting police would be some bold shit.

Pain is the only trustworthy assurance that life goes on. After cutting myself, it felt like a wave of relief would flood over my entire body. I would feel only numbness as the blood flowed down my wrist. I didn't want to die, I just wanted to stop feeling pain. Need to feel pain to feel alive.
I cut----I feel relief..........1-800-DONTCUT

Yes I have issues.

Crazy, horrible, powerless, conformity, justifed, conflict, confused, escape, insanity, anxiety, unreal, loss of control, retribution

Some wounds can never heal.

Shocking and Alarming Thoughts

Society turned me into a disease.

Sometimes I feel like I want to do the craziest of things. You know, like killing something or someone just to watch it die. Spit open its stomach and feel the hand warming sensation of ruby red blood as it slowly drains from your victims body.

Sometimes I hear voices and they tell me to do things.

Where darkness stands defiant to the break of day.You spend a lifetime of walking...but where did you go?

I relive the past. I feel the past. I have such vivid, painful memories, flashbacks, if you will. I can almost feel 'their' hands painfully squeezing me. I can even sometimes smell the stench around me.

Contemplating suicide.

You wish you were already dead as you hold the gun up to your head.

I want to take him and string him up by the hind quarters like a deer being hung up and skinned. I want him to be alive as I run the sharp knife blade down his stomach to his nut sack.

I just like to watch sometimes.

More weird shit…I’m hooked on watching violent pornography. I’m not gay but I like watching a man get fucked hard in the ass. I like watching the pain on his face.

Antisocial personality with intermittent psychotic decompensation.

And I am a female... WELCOME TO MSPSYCHOS WORLD...