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I've tried to sleep and failed. I'm tired, but I've got something on my mind. It could be the following. 

Earlier on I visited my parents' house. My mum made me a chicken roast dinner, and it was lovely, and then my dad showed up. And he said, "Let's go to the shed..." 

So we're at the shed, and I'm telling dad about my plans. I told him I've cut off the plan to do a Master of physics, and that I'd like to go back into construction, perhaps to get a ticket in plastering, so that I can earn a few extra quid on top of my benefits, so that I can buy a car and perhaps a dog. 

And then dad starts going on about "Plastering is hard," and "Dog's are difficult". Anyway, long story short, I realised that everything I tell that man, he returns to me in a negative manner. Eventually, in frustration, I said, "OKAY THEN I WON'T GET A DOG!!" - and then he realises his manner and kind of retracts himself. 

I started getting a bit haughty, saying, "Everything I say to you two, you say 'No, don't do that!'. I say I want to get a dog, you say, 'No, don't do that!'. I say I want to get a job, you say, 'No, don't do that!' I say I want to go to the gym, you say, 'No, don't do that!'" 

Then dad said, "I never said don't go to the gym."

"Earlier on," I told him, "I told mum that I don't necessarily overeat, but that if I got some exercise, I'd lose more weight. She said, 'No, doing exercise won't help you lose weight.' I mean, come on!! Of course it fucking will." 

Dad saw my point there, I think, but then went on to talk about some other thing in a negative light. "DAD!" I told him. "You're doing it again!" And he was, and told him he was always being negative. He was going on about getting a job, so I went, "OKAY THEN I WON'T GET A JOB!" but he didn't see my point. 

"Dad," I levelled. "What do you want me to do? What can I do that will gain your approval?? Because I feel like you won't be happy with me unless I'm digging a fucking hole." 

He didn't have any suggestions. 

Anyway, long story short, I managed to contain myself, and topics turned to other things, like dad's drama with the family in New Zealand, his diatribe during which he mentioned that his sister had told him that he has no experience with mental illness. Dad had said he thinks he knows one or two things about mental illness, since his son has suffered with it for twenty years. In any case, he sort of blamed my outburst on my mental illness. 

I think that sucks, and if I wasn't sure I'd blow up again, I'd have said so. I'd have told him, Dad, just because I've got a mental illness, doesn't mean my anger isn't legitimate. Sometimes I'm angry with you because I'm pissed off that you've said something or done something I don't like. I didn't say it though. And besides (I'd like to have said), you're angry with something like seventy percent of the time - does that mean you're mentally ill? 

Anyway, that bothered me. That was earlier. It just annoys me because the man can't see himself as having done anything wrong. He's blameless. 


I can't sleep. I've just tried for the last hour and a half, and though I nearly dropped off, I've been thinking about stuff. There's these women I've been talking to online - one of them on Twitter, another on Facebook - and I don't understand them. They're relatively attractive women, and they, like... they play games with me. I think they're bots, and it doesn't make sense. It makes me think I'm homosexual. Then I look at my life and I think, I don't know if I could have anyone in my bed whatsoever. 

I'm very confused at the moment. 

There's this bloke, Scott. He was my best mate growing up - I've known him since he was born. But I've not seen him for fifteen years, and I tried to contact him, and he blanked me. I don't get it. I'm confused. 

There's this woman, Tamsin. I've had a fling with her. She's like this little troll girl pixie woman, who has something about her, but she's this religious Catholic, and she won't sleep with me, although I've tried to convince her. Anyway her legs are shut tight. Once, I said to her, "You are dead from the waist down," and she said, all haughty like, "I can assure you, I am not." I was like, yeah? Where's the proof. Anyway, she's convinced I'm homosexual, and it's humiliating. In fact, Tamsin herself is a most likely candidate for homosexuality, but she hasn't had the same insights as I have. If she isn't gay, then I don't know what her fucking game is. She'll never find a man like me, or any man at all for that matter - yet she rejected me. I don't get it. I kind of hate her. 

The thing is, am I gay or not? I'm forty four years old; I should know. But the other thing is that I'm schizophrenic. Now, I'm not blaming everything on my mental illness, and rightly not, but the whole thing is a mystery to me, and in all honesty, makes me believe I'm the Christ. 

Here's where things take a turn, but I'll go with it. 

Earlier on there was meant to be a tutorial for S383, and the room was not available to me. But it turned out that the tutorial did go ahead, but I myself was cut out of it. As an ill person, I take offense at this. I think this fucking university thinks I'm trolling it! I think, in all honesty, they cut me out of that tutorial deliberately - personally, as a personal thing. I think I may talk too much in chat on those tutorials and they needed a break from me. That's what I think. 

And I think that I'm not gay or straight. I think I'm special. I think I'm Jesus. 

Be honest, reader, you're reading this, yes, you're fascinated - but you don't like me. Do you? No, you don't. And that's not for want of me trying to be likeable. You know I'm trying to be likeable, but you despise me. That's why you'll have got all the way down to the bottom of this post, and you won't engage with me, you won't comment, nothing. You'll just fuck off on your merry way like every other human on the planet. 

Fine. Be like that. 

I had a dream last night. I dreamed that I was in a van in London with my dad, and we parked up at a market, and went to have a look around, and there was a record stall, and all the records were fake. 

Dear life, are you fake? You're fake, aren't you? I think you're fake. 

I'll have to be careful. God is real after all. God is real, and I know this because He is not a human, and therefore not a beast. Humans are beasts. 

I'm done. 


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