Viewing Thread:
"Rant ~ Cigarettes and Me"

So, after ten-twelve years of fighting myself, natural urges to kill others, kill myself, to destroy and maim... odd little hallucinations that, hell, I swear are as real as reality gets.. oh, and a good few pointless little disorders along the way to keep me from killing myself, it all comes down to the simple fact that my brain is damaged, that I'm over the borderline schizophrenic, and I'm quite, quite psychotic for being so.

And at the moment, I think I'm feeling pretty damn good about myself. It's taken me a long time to get any such sense out of it all (mainly because the part of my brain that handles self-analysis is dead and dying, meaning: I can call you a fat loser, but I can't tell you for sure if I want a cup of tea or not. Don't take it for granted, kids.), and in terms of success, I've managed to amazingly:

1) Not kill myself
2) Not kill anyone else

Which I believe I deserve a pat on the back for. Everything doesn't make that much more sense, but hell, it's a start.

Tomorrow evening I shall be starting a rather large dose of anti-psychotics. The hopeful idea behind it is, it'll make it easier for my brain to make connections, should substantially decrease the confusion in my mind, and generally make it easier to think. The prospect of this, truly, is exciting. I don't want to look forward to it too much for fear of it not affecting me at all, but well, it'll be interesting at least.

The thing though, to say honestly at the moment, I don't really think there's anything wrong with me, which is why I hate to write this topics, and end up forcing myself to. I've battled solidily and constantly against whatever it is that's telling me I'm fine and should shut up, and to come out of it to find someone saying to you 'hey, you know, you're right, something's wrong' is both horrific and relieving at the same time. I even had to fight to stop myself from stealing all the notes when the final diagnosis was made.. made me wonder, why the hell had I even gone to get help in the first place? I couldn't even remember, but it had took me long enough.

Remember about the multiple personalities thing? Well, that was just a tiny bit of it, some little disorder I'd managed to pick up along the way. My mind is somehow split in two, which I kinda refer to as Grix and Seiyo just to make things cute. Leon, the 'other', I found out I had created just to try and put a middleman between the two of them because there was such a massive clash between them. Scary, but then, I'm psychotic.

Well, it's pretty obvious what I need to do next. My mind is split, there's no curing that (and to be honest, thank God, I'd always want it this way)... but I can help the confusion, I can help myself to arrange my thoughts so I can access them easier. It's all I want, I don't want rid of anything else, just the confusion. If it could make me less lazy too, hell, I won't complain.

Now. Let's put a few things into rational sentences for my own use here. I'm not special. I'm just another, single human being with a strange little mind and the ability to imagine etc etc. I am no saviour, no God or Christ and I'm not the President of the USA. Although, sometimes I wish I was.

But you know what scares me? That when you look at things, really closely, deep into the structure of human life on this planet, there are really a hell of a lot of things that just shouldn't exist.

I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark here. Cigarettes. If you smoke, I hold nothing against you, whatsoever. You can smoke two hundred cigarettes a day, you can go through six lighters or whatever, it's your life, it's your body, you do whatever the hell you want.

BUT, and this is one MASSIVE fat backside of a but.

People, human beings on this planet, are manufacturing, creating, tiny little sticks which are filled with addictive, cancerous causing drugs. Rubbish wrapped in a paper tube, that does NOTHING for you. It doesn't enhance your mind, it doesn't give you a high, it does zero, zilch, nothing. Tobacco and some more rubbish, rolled. All it seems to ever do, is to stop you from wanting another cigarette for a while.

Cannabis is as addictive as a placebo. You can buy it off skinny people with bad facial hair, you can grow it, PURELY, grow, in your back yard. It'll damage your brain, it may or may not cause cancer, it may do a million things to you, but guess what? It's not addictive. It's YOUR own choice that is affected UNCHEMICALLY and your intake is controlled by your OWN FREE WILL. It is, however, illegal. And yes, this is personal experience, intellectual research, as it were. I feel the urge for cannabis as much as I feel the urge to paraglide. It'd be cool, but it can wait.

And small sticks, which are advertised as cool, which were piped out by cinema, are STILL being sold. They are even being TAXED. They are pumped into the sub-conscious as being a DRUG. The WORST crappy little drug on planet Earth.

Have I smoked? Why, yes I have. Why? Because hell, you know, things are here to be tried, attempted, and I will never shoot anyone down for trying something, no matter how desperate or ridiculous it may seem because we are human beings of this green planet and we have the right to be curious about anything we want and find fit to even remotely desire.

Hope I'm not just catching up with the general consensus here, but doesn't this bother anyone? At all?

It occured to me that maybe it's just some secret Government plot to try and push back self-harm. 'Try and take control of your sucky spinning life and pay taxes while you're at it. No blood lost!' Maybe that's all it is.

There are men, human beings, responsible and making a large amount of money, from causing other people on this planet to become addicted to inhaling the fumes of a bunch of chemicals stuck in a tube. I'm not making this up, I'm just using different words.

It's taken me a long time to think about this. I've been helped along the way by Bill Hicks and my Grandfather and to their dead souls I thank.

But surely, am I not the only one who begins to get the very difficult to control urge to try and blow up every single cigarette factory this planet holds?

Like I said I don't care wherever you smoke or not, I don't care for your reasons, I just care that someone is making money from this.

Now, I'm not the most intelligent of people anyway, and it takes a long while to start realising something like this. Sooner or later, maybe, I'll start realising it about the Government and everyone, and hell, if my dark side ever truly took over me, I could take a gun and make this world a better place. Perhaps.

And I'm sure, dead positive I'm not psychotic for thinking this. Thinking it seems rational, logical.

Although I really shouldn't convince myself too much. The psychotic bit is more to due with me fighting myself to become a superhero, in this belief I could actually have a remote chance of making the world a far better place. Thinking that the newspapers would all say "Cigarette Factories Burn to Ground. World Laughs. Standers By Said to be 'Coughing' Nicotine Patches Sell Out."

And delusions of grandeur aside.. I'm beginning to really believe it would. Really, probably best for someone to stop me before I decide to rally all the goths and raise an army.

Erm eh?

Are you saying I'm a willy?

Would you like a disorder? Might make you feel better.

(Another gun for paranoia, just an identity crisis, everyone needs stability in something to prove they're different, worthy, etc)

I guess if you look hard at it, nobody is special, which in turn, makes every single person different. Everyone's alone, nobody tends to really know who they are (and I'm sure most people who do are kidding themselves, fundamentalists), and in the grand scheme of things, quote Hicks again, 'we're a virus with shoes'.

You may feel the same as everyone else, I guess when it comes down to it, it's only actions that ever make a difference.

Oh and I changed my clothes 3 times today because my confidence collapses if I think I look stupid. And when people glance at me I can't stop thinking something bad about myself.

See, maybe I do have issues now. I didn't used to care what people thought about me. Damn.

See, I'm jealous in a way.

I'm fine... just fine. Nothing is happening anymore for me. I just wake up, do crap, go to bed. And that's life till I'm dead no matter what people say I can change it.

Oh and I just take milk... quite a bit mind so it's not too burny for me.

Nah, I prefer to use black and white terms for humour more than anything. In reality, I really haven't a clue.

This cigarette business though, I swear somewhere along literature someone called them 'deathsticks'.. where was that from?

And Sheepy, milky, two sugars. (Did you know Hitler had his tea milky with no sugars? It makes me laugh to think he might have answered 'NEIN, I AM SWEET ENOUGH' but that's just me)

As for the split thing.. I can't really explain it very well, self-analysis and all.. I try to, then come back to it later and realise I've put a lot of black and white things in that really aren't right.

Leon is basically dead now, and I'm extremely glad. I realised I didn't need him, and I feel much more myself and raw without it there. Can try and describe a few things though.

Hallucinations can't really describe. In hindsight, it's easier to realise they aren't real, because of the vagueness of them, but at the time, very real.

On a typical bad moment... things don't become louder, colour doesn't become brighter, etc... you just have more contrast. You hear every sound, constantly around you, unable to concentrate on any one thing. It merges together, constantly bombarding you with what's going on. The same with sight, touch, smell, taste. It's like enheightened senses, being drugged without anything there.

Reality becomes nothing of importance, everything around you is real and there's no question about it. Is this bad? Hell no. It's great fun to write in those moments too, if I can make sense of doing so.

But there's this little something called paranoia that tends to ruin it, and seriously, it tears me apart. Every single fear, belief, love is ripped to shreds in every sense I feel, while I begin to feel more and more pressure from being attacked by the constant contrast of everything around me.

There's no escape from it, closing your eyes just creates a canvas, it's impossible to concentrate on anything and all you can do is try and get relaxed enough to push it away. I stabbed a cigarette, ironically enough, into myself one of the times it happened, you might remember that, I wouldn't have been able to describe it back then, mind.

It doesn't get any less harsher, just less threatening. To be honest, it's such a fantastic experience I wouldn't want it gone. Just wish I could gather my thoughts well enough to describe it properly, though.

um...well, I'm sure it's nothing as black and white as that, but as you explain it so elequently I'll just carry on reading!

Don't forget that no-one at all thought Cigarettes were harmful back when they were a popular icon of the silver screen, but it does make you wonder why people smoke them now. I believe it's because they want to or are so addicted that they can't stop (or can't be bothered). People jump out of planes on flimsy material, it can be bad for you (or, at least, the ground can if you meet with it at a certain rate) but they will do it none-the-less.

Not that this really says anything other than some people will never care if they are doing something harmful to themselves, just so long as they can do it. After all, where would Macdonalds be otherwise? That's life, strange as it seems to be.

When I was on holiday I got so bored standing on my own when my friends danced forrrreeevvvver that I took up smoking for two weeks and met lots of other smokes who I shared fags and lighters with.

Still, I think it's stupid.

Anyway, what are your other selfs like... what's their characteristics? See, I get depressed a lot and try to think that people are worse off than me and I should appreciate that. Kinda like this I suppose, my mind is fine apart from a few mood things and increasing paranoia and low self asteem. Or something.

Fancy a cuppa? ;)

So, after ten-twelve years of fighting myself, natural urges to kill others, kill myself, to destroy and maim... odd little hallucinations that, hell, I swear are as real as reality gets.. oh, and a good few pointless little disorders along the way to keep me from killing myself, it all comes down to the simple fact that my brain is damaged, that I'm over the borderline schizophrenic, and I'm quite, quite psychotic for being so.

And at the moment, I think I'm feeling pretty damn good about myself. It's taken me a long time to get any such sense out of it all (mainly because the part of my brain that handles self-analysis is dead and dying, meaning: I can call you a fat loser, but I can't tell you for sure if I want a cup of tea or not. Don't take it for granted, kids.), and in terms of success, I've managed to amazingly:

1) Not kill myself
2) Not kill anyone else

Which I believe I deserve a pat on the back for. Everything doesn't make that much more sense, but hell, it's a start.

Tomorrow evening I shall be starting a rather large dose of anti-psychotics. The hopeful idea behind it is, it'll make it easier for my brain to make connections, should substantially decrease the confusion in my mind, and generally make it easier to think. The prospect of this, truly, is exciting. I don't want to look forward to it too much for fear of it not affecting me at all, but well, it'll be interesting at least.

The thing though, to say honestly at the moment, I don't really think there's anything wrong with me, which is why I hate to write this topics, and end up forcing myself to. I've battled solidily and constantly against whatever it is that's telling me I'm fine and should shut up, and to come out of it to find someone saying to you 'hey, you know, you're right, something's wrong' is both horrific and relieving at the same time. I even had to fight to stop myself from stealing all the notes when the final diagnosis was made.. made me wonder, why the hell had I even gone to get help in the first place? I couldn't even remember, but it had took me long enough.

Remember about the multiple personalities thing? Well, that was just a tiny bit of it, some little disorder I'd managed to pick up along the way. My mind is somehow split in two, which I kinda refer to as Grix and Seiyo just to make things cute. Leon, the 'other', I found out I had created just to try and put a middleman between the two of them because there was such a massive clash between them. Scary, but then, I'm psychotic.

Well, it's pretty obvious what I need to do next. My mind is split, there's no curing that (and to be honest, thank God, I'd always want it this way)... but I can help the confusion, I can help myself to arrange my thoughts so I can access them easier. It's all I want, I don't want rid of anything else, just the confusion. If it could make me less lazy too, hell, I won't complain.

Now. Let's put a few things into rational sentences for my own use here. I'm not special. I'm just another, single human being with a strange little mind and the ability to imagine etc etc. I am no saviour, no God or Christ and I'm not the President of the USA. Although, sometimes I wish I was.

But you know what scares me? That when you look at things, really closely, deep into the structure of human life on this planet, there are really a hell of a lot of things that just shouldn't exist.

I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark here. Cigarettes. If you smoke, I hold nothing against you, whatsoever. You can smoke two hundred cigarettes a day, you can go through six lighters or whatever, it's your life, it's your body, you do whatever the hell you want.

BUT, and this is one MASSIVE fat backside of a but.

People, human beings on this planet, are manufacturing, creating, tiny little sticks which are filled with addictive, cancerous causing drugs. Rubbish wrapped in a paper tube, that does NOTHING for you. It doesn't enhance your mind, it doesn't give you a high, it does zero, zilch, nothing. Tobacco and some more rubbish, rolled. All it seems to ever do, is to stop you from wanting another cigarette for a while.

Cannabis is as addictive as a placebo. You can buy it off skinny people with bad facial hair, you can grow it, PURELY, grow, in your back yard. It'll damage your brain, it may or may not cause cancer, it may do a million things to you, but guess what? It's not addictive. It's YOUR own choice that is affected UNCHEMICALLY and your intake is controlled by your OWN FREE WILL. It is, however, illegal. And yes, this is personal experience, intellectual research, as it were. I feel the urge for cannabis as much as I feel the urge to paraglide. It'd be cool, but it can wait.

And small sticks, which are advertised as cool, which were piped out by cinema, are STILL being sold. They are even being TAXED. They are pumped into the sub-conscious as being a DRUG. The WORST crappy little drug on planet Earth.

Have I smoked? Why, yes I have. Why? Because hell, you know, things are here to be tried, attempted, and I will never shoot anyone down for trying something, no matter how desperate or ridiculous it may seem because we are human beings of this green planet and we have the right to be curious about anything we want and find fit to even remotely desire.

Hope I'm not just catching up with the general consensus here, but doesn't this bother anyone? At all?

It occured to me that maybe it's just some secret Government plot to try and push back self-harm. 'Try and take control of your sucky spinning life and pay taxes while you're at it. No blood lost!' Maybe that's all it is.

There are men, human beings, responsible and making a large amount of money, from causing other people on this planet to become addicted to inhaling the fumes of a bunch of chemicals stuck in a tube. I'm not making this up, I'm just using different words.

It's taken me a long time to think about this. I've been helped along the way by Bill Hicks and my Grandfather and to their dead souls I thank.

But surely, am I not the only one who begins to get the very difficult to control urge to try and blow up every single cigarette factory this planet holds?

Like I said I don't care wherever you smoke or not, I don't care for your reasons, I just care that someone is making money from this.

Now, I'm not the most intelligent of people anyway, and it takes a long while to start realising something like this. Sooner or later, maybe, I'll start realising it about the Government and everyone, and hell, if my dark side ever truly took over me, I could take a gun and make this world a better place. Perhaps.

And I'm sure, dead positive I'm not psychotic for thinking this. Thinking it seems rational, logical.

Although I really shouldn't convince myself too much. The psychotic bit is more to due with me fighting myself to become a superhero, in this belief I could actually have a remote chance of making the world a far better place. Thinking that the newspapers would all say "Cigarette Factories Burn to Ground. World Laughs. Standers By Said to be 'Coughing' Nicotine Patches Sell Out."

And delusions of grandeur aside.. I'm beginning to really believe it would. Really, probably best for someone to stop me before I decide to rally all the goths and raise an army.