Okay! Well here it goes.. I've tried numerous times before to write this. Maybe this time the mission will be successful. Been feeling rather productive as of late, but the downside with that is I start to get manic. But when something gets finished.. its done. Then I kind of take the blow and lay in bed until I regain my sanity.
Anyways, so this entry is intended to be pretty much about my past and ongoing experience of schizophrenia. I developed this illness at age eighteen, but the time prior to that I had also experienced a number of odd occurrences. All of which I want to cover. Does it all tie in together? I don't know, but I'll let you be the judge of that. I guess I'll start with my childhood.
I was born on December 15th, 1990. At this time my parents lived in California, and I don't remember much of the first house we lived at. Small memories, such as playing with toys in the driveway and an earthquake that knocked over a LEGO ship my mother and I had built. Eventually, my parents got divorced and my mom took custody of both my sister and I. That's where things get clearer.
I remember going to school, having recess with my best friend Kevin. We were buddies till the end.. on rainy days we would share a large raincoat, my arm through one sleeve and his down the other. I also remember tripping on the asphalt and skidding my back. Lot's of fond memories of that elementary school, and it makes me feel warm inside just looking back. At home things were okay. Well back then I mostly worried about playing pokemon, but my mom did an amazing job taking care of us. She would take us to school, and go to work, only to come home and cook dinner everyday. We also had a couple of cats, Scully and Milly.
I did alright in school. My favorite subject was Math only because of the time sheets. You had a small amount of time to do as many problems as you could, and Kevin and I would always race. Oh and the memories of P.E. hold a very special place in my heart. I remember the trees that lined the playground, they seemed so big. And they all had pine cones that would fall, and I remember always inspecting them while we played.
I also remember one of my friends slamming a lunchbox into my mouth.. it was an accident don't worry. I had to get stitches in my gums. During this time I had also broke my arm after I had fallen off a jungle gym. Oh and can't forget the time I tried doing a jump on my bike over a cardboard ramp and came home with blood running down my forehead. Speaking of foreheads, I also accomplished hitting my head on a barbecue. Felt bad for my mom.. looking back I had a lot of accidents. And just because, since we are on this subject.. I don't really remember this one because I was really little at the time but my mom always talks about it. I think Wayne's World was playing on the TV and I was running around the living room and WHAM! Slammed right into the sliding glass door and shattered it. That one I'm actually kind of proud of.
But I came out alright I think. Was living the California life, visiting the beach and enjoying the sunny days. Everything was pretty much normal.
During the third grade, my mother had come into contact with an old high school buddy. They started dating and eventually we moved to where he lived, Arkansas. It was quite a change, although I was so young I don't think I really comprehended it fully. Went from sprawling suburbia to seventy-two acres of land for a backyard.
They did get married, and for the next three years my life would consist of quads, hunting, and fireworks. Yes, fireworks. Everyday was 4th of July. And we had the good stuff too.. bottle rockets, roman candles you name it. I actually really enjoyed life there. School was easy, and I made friends quick. The school was so small, that pretty much everybody knew each other. Within a matter of months I was playing on all the sports teams, and I remember Basketball being my favorite.
I wasn't new to the sport scene. Back in California I had played soccer. But there in Arkansas there wasn't really any soccer teams. This is when I pretty much just became an all-around athlete. Changing with the seasons, first football then basketball and can't forget baseball.
Fast forward about three years. I was in the seventh grade I think, and we had decided to move back to California. I had loved the time spent in Arkansas, but I was excited to get back to the city. We ended up driving, and it took about three days to finally end up in Fresno. It wasn't exactly where I had originated, but my stepfather got a job in the area. But I really didn't mind, after seeing Clovis.
The town was beautiful. Sure, Fresno had some bad parts, but Clovis became a little utopia to me. As with Arkansas, I made friends pretty quick. I had joined the outdoor Basketball team, where I met some of the greatest friends I would have all throughout high school. We formed a large group, and although we played sports we were complete gamers. Weekends were spent having LAN parties, where we would all bring our computers to Ryan's house and game it up. He also had a Basketball court in the backyard, so when we weren't playing World of Warcraft or Counter-Strike, we were head-to-toe in a game of 21. Most of the time his parents would get a us pizza, and when we finally went to bed it was well past midnight.
School was, well, a lot different then what I had attended the last three years. It was huge, to say the least. I went from less than two hundred students to over three thousand. Everyday it was possible to run into someone you've never met before.
Here is when I met one of the other greatest friends a guy can have, Drew. We were in science class, and I think it was near the end of the lecture so everyone was taking a break. I started clapping my hands, and not the conventional horizontal motion, but the one where each hand claps itself. You kind of loosen your fingers and flick your palm up and down. It was weird I'll admit, but next thing you know this guy comes up and repeats the process. There we were, exercising the one-hand clap together. I think that day we became friends, and we would stay friends even until this day.
This is about the time I picked up skateboarding. My older brother had always skated and I still remember being in awe when I saw him do a kickflip. I had always looked up to him, and wanted to be like him. In this hobby, I had also acquired a number of new friends that shared the interest. And although it started off slow, eventually I was able to do a kickflip myself. Grinding, however, was a different story filled with sore butts and bruised knees.
After about a year or so in our new city, my parents decided to buy a house not too far from where we were living. A lot of important events would take place in our new home, and even now I go there to visit and for holidays. It was around this time I first got my driver's license.
It was also around this time, that very peculiar experiences happened.. and I still don't know exactly what was going on, but I will try my best to remember.
Something sparked in me. In my teen years I had become a total introvert unless I was with my friends. I was also very judgmental on my physical appearance, and for a long time I would struggle with self-identity. But all this might of just have been a catalyst, because for some reason I started practicing philosophy. I might have been young, but I quickly began forming my own explanations for life. It was the beginning to a long journey that would eventually end up where I started.. but with a view that could see across the horizon.
I would carry journals around with me where I would write my pondering. I would theorize on anything metaphysical, whether it be the soul or matter itself. I had to get to the bottom of this thing we call life. Eventually this practice became the most important part of my life.
A funny thing too, and I'll be honest, it didn't really feel like I was alone in my head. It felt like something or someone was there, almost tutoring me. It was around this time I began my research on conspiracies, aliens, and things such as the Lightworkers. My world had just become vastly more sophisticated.. perhaps too much for a sixteen year old to handle.
And I did struggle. Although I felt my path was necessary, I felt isolated. Like no one understood me. This lead to depression, and it did hit a breaking point. I tried suicide by household poisons, and of course failed but the next week or so one of my eyelids would stay drooped. Those were some dark times, but the darker they got the brighter the light got at the end of the tunnel.
I had been introduced to marijuana around this time, and it quickly became part of my life. I would smoke almost everyday if I had it, and I would use it as a tool to further my metaphysical investigations. Some very strange things happened, including visualizing a vivid stick figure. This was no hallucination I've ever heard of, but then again I don't really know what other people have experienced with marijuana. It just seemed completely out of place. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, super stoned and super into the ice cream I was eating. It was one of those little containers that came with a wooden spoon, vanilla flavored.
I looked down while I was eating, and saw a little stick figure. He was sitting in the ice cream cup, just as vivid as anything else in the room. I stared at him, perplexed. I took the spoon and gently poked him, and his body moved accordingly. He kind of plopped down into the cup, and I looked away for a split second. When I returned my gaze, he was gone. At the time I wasn't sure what had happened. It would be easy to say I had just hallucinated, but something in me told a different story. In all my years of smoking, tons of different strains and quantities, I never once had another experience like that. I couldn't help but think the stick figure had been placed there.. by who? I don't know, maybe the tutors that were helping my thoughts.
There was another time, during lunch break from school. I was able to drive home to get something to eat before the last classes started for the day. I was in a good mood, well in a fantastic mood actually. I was walking around the house, speaking eccentrically and with pop in my foot steps. I was going down the hallway, when I turned and looked into the bathroom mirror. Out of the blue, as I was staring into my eyes, the word “Charlie?” came out of my mouth. It was a question, as if I resembled this man Charlie. The characteristics of the vocalization were scruffy, and I got the impression that it was militaristic.
At age 11, I had first picked up an acoustic guitar. It was my older sister's, but I had asked if I could play with it. What I really wanted was an electric guitar with amp, but my mom said if I learned how to play the acoustic guitar, she would get me an electric. So I did, starting off when Blink 182 songs and slowly moving on to Classic Rock. And alas, I did get my electric guitar.
By age sixteen I had already begun writing my own songs. It was around this time I also picked up the program Reason.. well not legally. I had used a torrent site to download the full version. But I quickly fell in love with how much potential the program had. By age seventeen music had become one of the biggest influences that to this day still drives me.
And it all ties in together. I knew what I had to do. It seemed so simple at the time. I had to save the world with music. And not just any music, but music that could end wars. Music that could inspire countless people to begin their own spiritual journey. Music that could change the course of human history.
I remember standing in the shower one day, and looking up into the air as if there was no ceiling there. I felt then that I was told, telepathically of some sort, that I was a harbringer of esoteric knowledge. In my head, I though well hey, that means I'm the new messiah. The Jesus of the 21st century. And I accepted this fate.. I knew it had to be done regardless of my own personal life.
So the songwriting began. The plan was to combine the power of punk rock with lyrics that hinted towards a greater knowledge. I guess it's kind of like the dollar bill, although the plan was greater than that. The music was to be only a catalyst to share esoteric understandings to the world. I wanted to make philosophy cool, not something old men do in their later years. But something that would spark interest in people of all age groups. I did not want to preach, and I did not want to start a cult. What I wanted, was to be a buddha with a taste for punk rock.. and a style to match.
Often feeling alone, I had used social networking sites to find others who were similar. On a Myspace philosophy forum, is where I met Jessie James Moncrief. I was mesmerized by her profile, and just the fact that she was interested in such a thing at her age, which was seventeen just like me.
I decided I wanted to marry her, even though we lived across the country and had never met. I summed up every ounce of my creativity and devised a message. One single message, where I would introduce myself and at the end ask her for her hand in marriage.
She said yes. And here is where the overall plan could have been halted. I wanted to move off-grid with her. I wanted to shed society and live a simple life. I wrote her a song which I named “moncrief”, and it was one of the two that survived all those years. I was head-over-heels in love with someone I would never meet. This occurrence of love played the most crucial part of metaphysical understanding of reality.
I was seventeen, in Indonesia for a scuba diving trip with my father. Although he and mother had got divorced when I was young, he would frequently visit and would take me on trips including a resort in Cozumel and snowboarding at one of the best ski parks in the state. Almost every trip was life-changing, and this one was no different.
I was still a teen and a bit reckless. We stayed at his girlfriends house, which was very well taken care of and we had cooks and even a driver that would escort us to the airlines. On top of the piano in the living room was a large bottle of whiskey (I think it was whiskey). One night, I decided I would take that bottle and drink it. I knew I was stealing, but I really didn't think anything of it at the time.
I slept in the entertainment room, where there was a large tv and a super comfortable bed. I took the bottle and began drinking. And drinking. And more drinking. All the time I would check Myspace to talk with Jessie. I was so in love, that honestly that whole trip I couldn't stop thinking about her. And as I drifted off to sleep, something happened.
I felt incredibly energized, like my body was vibrating. It was love, and the 3/4s bottle of whiskey only amplified it. I decided I would use this. I read online about a practice in which you pushed the energy out of your forehead and into the cosmos.
It was easy, actually. The moment I began pushing, it all kind of flowed out. I could feel it.. the sensation was like nothing other I had experienced. And when all the energy had been pushed, I did not feel empty. In fact, I felt limitless. It's like the energy enveloped me in an egg shape, but I was not without nor was I with. I was unified with the universe.. at least that's what it felt like.
But there's more. During this experience my eyes had been closed, in which I found myself floating in a black void. Mustering my metaphysical theories, I had feeling that I could affect this reality. So, I began thinking. And not any sort of thinking, but I began to materialize matter. I thought to myself, I'm swimming. And, just like that, I found myself in water. There was fish around me, and at no point was I ever scared. I then thought, I'm going to swim up and emerge onto an island. And just like that, the events unfolded and there I was on top of the most beautiful place I could ever imagine. There a purple haze about, and I could see all the stars in the sky. I looked behind me, and there was the pool I had been swimming in.
I came back to my body, and opened my eyes. Had I just created a whole entire universe? Where is this island? Is it somewhere in our own cosmos?
To this day, I still hold that island as a safe haven if anything bad happens. It is my, Plan B of sorts when it comes to what might happen after death.
During the trip in Indonesia there was also another experience I think is worth mentioning. It was during dinner after a long day of scuba diving. The sun was setting, and I began to gaze into it. My eyes kind of hazed over, and I thought to myself, “This is what it would look like if we could see time.”
I told my father and he was impressed. We would from time to time have philosophic discussions, and I felt very comfortable sharing the theories I had come up with. Of course I had a lot of influences. Although time on the internet back then was largely spent researching conspiracies and extraterrestrials, I also watched a number of teachings from some of the greatest people that walked the earth. To name the two dominant inspirations, were Alan Watts and Thich Nhat Hanh. I remember a video in which Thich Nhat Hanh had a single flame lit and said this flame is the clouds. All of this I took in like a sponge.
One day Jessie James stopped messaging me. I was getting impatient with the lack of communication, and would fill her inbox up asking why she wouldn't respond. We did, however once talk on the phone. It was a three-way conversation and I was very self-conscious. I knew I hadn't left a good impression, but I wanted to keep trying. But it was never meant to be, her and I. As time passed on, we never spoke to eachother again.
She would, play a crucial part in the schizophrenia. Not in person, but as a hallucination. This was during the Shift episode, as I now would like to call it. There were a number of scenarios that lasted anywhere from days to months. But the Shift scenario took almost a whole year.. at least it felt so. But that will be a tale for a bit later on down the road.. let's get back to before the illness began.
Things were getting a bit heavier on my shoulders. I was still doing alright in school, but after Jessie left me I started to go downhill. I felt alienated from the rest of my classmates. I felt like I was the only one who dabbled in metaphysics, extraterrestrials and so forth. That idea of moving off grid with Jessie? I decided, to hell with it I'm going to live out in the wilderness anyway.
I did tell Drew I was leaving.. in fact I invited him to come with me. He declined, but this did not damper my spirit. In my head I envisioned a snug warm cave in the mountains. No work, no school, no people, and nothing to bother me from doing whatever I wanted. I was so set on this idea, that it only took a couple of days before I set out.
I didn't tell my family. In fact that morning my mother told me good morning and smiled. I acted like it was just another day. But when the kitchen was empty, I grabbed a loaf of bread and some peanut butter. And I know that doesn't make any sense.. that being the only food I had with me. The thing is, and even to this day, one of my characteristics is that I like to wing things. Planning is just not so much my nature.. I'd rather just dive in and deal with the problems as they come. Keep in mind I was also incredibly depressed and reckless.
I left a note. But not for my mother, or sister, or any of my friends.. but for one of my teachers in school. I had come to greatly respect this man, and felt that he would somehow understand. In the letter I basically told him that I feel like everyone around is sheep. Like robots, egotistical and instinct-driven. Well, not exactly in such a manner, but the ideas there.
I left the note on my bed and gathered what I felt I might need.. which included my guitar, snowboard gear (boots, pants, jacket), Contact on DVD, some books on philosophy and my backpack. Well and of course the bread and peanut butter.
I then got in the car and started the engine. This was it. I'm leaving for good.
I had to stop at the gas station to get gas and while I was paying at the register, I felt a way I had never felt before. It felt primal.. I felt free. I took it that the lady behind the register could see this. But she took the money and I proceeded to fill my car up with gas.
I drove a Volkswagen Westfalia back then, the one with a pop-up roof, sink and kitchen with a bed. My stepfather had asked me what I wanted, and I decided that would be my car. He refurbished it, replacing all the interior, adding new speakers and a whole new paint job. Needless to say I stood out on the road, but I didn't really think anyone would see me leaving.
I didn't have a plan.. well a detailed plan. All I had to do was get to the forest. I knew that Yosemite was a national park, so decided to head that way. Looking back, I can kind of see that this whole experience wasn't really to live in the mountains, but to run away. Just run, and don't look back.
I was happy. It felt quite liberating, after spending my whole youth going to school and with the standards of society. It didn't dawn on me what I was leaving behind.. not until it was too late.
I saw a turn off from the freeway. It was Road 420, and I was feeling it. So much, I turned off and followed the road as far as it went. There was forest around me, so I felt I had to be close anyway. I passed a lot of houses, too many count, and winded up at a dead end on top of a hill. I parked my car, and thought this was as good as any spot. The dead end was actually a blocked off road, but could easily be walked around.
I grabbed my guitar and backpack, and began the hike. It turns out the road led to some sort of electrical building, but I looked around for some sort of path in which I could continue. At the edge of the clearing, all there was was a complete drop-off into thick brush. I wasn't about to turn around, so I gathered up my courage and began to scale the cliff. I would get a lot of momentum, but it was kind of fun. Eventually I ended up at the bottom, where I was surrounded by forest life. There.. this is what I was looking for.
I kept walking, with my backpack over my shoulders and guitar case in hand. There was a large clearing on top of a hill in which I stopped and could see across the forest. I made a peanut butter sandwich and as I gazed across the land I felt completely released. Everything up to this moment was only a build-up. I am doing this. And I'm never going back.
I was wearing my snowboard boots to hike. They were a little snug, but did the job quite well. I did find a little road that led to more houses, so I knew I was still in a residential zone. I was a little unnerved but pressed on.
I found myself surrounded by thick brush. I didn't bother looking for an alternate route and just charged through it. It scraped my arms and face, but didn't take too long to get to the other side. The day was getting late, so I knew I had to find somewhere to rest. At this point, the guitar and backpack that was once light to carry, became incredibly heavy. I couldn't go ten steps without having to sit down and regain my strength. I had been hiking all day, and I knew I had reached my limit.
I found another winding road, but this seemed more like a freeway. I was a little sad to still see civilization, but crossed the road and continued searching for a place to rest. It didn't take long after crossing the road to find a large boulder. I thought it would be perfect for the night, and set all my gear down. I could still hear the cars down the road, and worried someone might find me. But I was too tired and the rock was just the thing I needed.
I began collecting shrub from the trees in hopes to make a bedding of sorts on the rock, but it didn't really turn out well. So I sat down, and finally stopped moving. Little did I know what was in store for me that night..
It was dark. Cold. Very cold. I had put on the rest of my snowboard outfit, but it didn't really keep me warm. I was shivering, and the dark forest around me was eerie. I couldn't help thinking aliens were going to appear. Then, the rain came.
If the cold wasn't enough, the rain sure did the trick. There was a hole in my snowboard pants, and the icy water was running down my leg. At this point there was no sitting. I just stood on top of the rock, scared to death something was going to happen. This wasn't part of the plan. But there never really was much of a plan. I just had envisioned a cozy cave up in the mountains.
I started to see snowflakes falling from the sky. No, it couldn't be. Not now. But in a matter of an hour, all the forest around me was covered with snow. I began to slowly lose it. I couldn't stand the thoughts that were in my head, so I began to sing Green Day at the top of my lungs and into the forest. I was so cold. I couldn't wait for morning. But I had to.
That night there was no sleep. Only waiting for the sun to rise. It was the longest night of my life.. seemed to last forever. It felt like it was always going to be dark. And that's when it hit me.
I started thinking about my friends and family. A warm shower and cozy bed. I thought about school, and everything I had left behind. And then I realized that a human being needs other humans. All the snowboard gear I had, the backpack and guitar. Even what I had at home, was all made by others. We need each other.
I knew what I had to do. I had only been away from home less than 24 hours, but that's all I needed. I had to go back. I had to go home.
The snow had stopped, but all around was a thick blanket. And there I was, waiting for that sun to rise. And next thing you know, the forest around me begins to lighten. The next day was finally here. There was no time to rest. I was going to get back home, and nothing was going to stop me. I decided by the end of the day I would be back. But, I was lost. I had no clue where I had winded up. I knew there was a road nearby, so that was a start.
I had only seen hitchhiking in movies, but I decided to give it a try. At least they would know where the hell we were. So, I did the thing where you hold out your thumb. Thirty or so cars passed without a second glance. This was going to be a lot harder then I had imagined.
I gave up after a while, and decided to just hike the road. It has to lead somewhere. I tried to imagine in my head where I was, where my car was, and the path I had taken. But I knew it was probably completely wrong. The road seemed to go on forever, but I kept walking. I was going to be home that day, I don't give a shit about the circumstances.
I stopped and sat down on a tree stump and made another sandwich. There were houses around me, and large fields with old sheds and barns. It didn't dawn on me to go to someones house. Honestly I probably looked pretty creepy. I was wearing my whole snowboard suit, which by then was tattered. My guitar case had been heavily damaged by the weather and the lid was barely latched on.
I must of walked that road a good five hours or so, before I decided to give hitchhiking another go. Might as well. So I threw out my thumb, and began slowly walking backwards.
Someone stopped. Someone actually stopped and I ran up to his truck. He asked me what had happened, and I made up a story of hiking with friends and getting lost. I could tell by his expression he didn't believe me one bit, but told me to put my stuff in the bed and hop in.
He had the heater on, and instantly I relaxed. He asked where I needed to go, in which I then asked if he knew of the Road 420? He said he did actually, passes it all the time. But he was going into Fresno for something, and asked if we could go there first. In my head, I wanted to just be in Fresno anyway, but I knew I had to go get my car. So I agreed to go into town.
He bought me some Mcdonalds, and we stopped at some sort of electrical appliance store. After he finished his business, we began the ride to Road 420. Then something I didn't really expect happened. We started talking about conspiracies. We started talking about Philosophy, aliens, and even music. We started talking about the things I felt no one at school had cared about.
We did reach Road 420, and I told the man that I could walk the rest of the way. But before I left, he asked me one more time what was going on. I couldn't tell him the truth, and I don't know if it was because I was ashamed or didn't want to get in trouble. But I lied again, and his face said it all. He knew I wasn't telling the truth. But he said okay, and asked one more time if I wanted a ride to my car. I declined, and with that he left. I don't remember who this man was, or even his name. But I'll never forget him.
After about fifteen minutes, I knew I had made a mistake. I miscalculated how long the road was. After being in a car for so long, it hit me hard that I had to walk again. But I reminded myself of my goal, and pressed on.
After about a couple of hours or so, I was finally there. I saw my Volkswagen in just the spot I had left it. At this point I was incredibly tired, but when I got in the car I got a small burst of energy. I did it. I'm heading home.
As I walked through the door, my mom was just turning the corner into the kitchen. She saw me, and we hugged. My sister was there, and a detective was sitting at the table. I sat down and we spoke, and that's when the tears came. It felt like all the pain in my life, those 17 years or so was shed out my eyes. I told him how alone I felt. After we talked, he took his files and left.
The next day at school was so strange. None of my fellow classmates knew what happened, and I never told anyone. But the teacher knew. He had been given the letter, and we spoke to each other alone. He talked about his son, and I remember seeing his eyes water.
A few weeks later I found that the movie Into The Wild had came out. And I did watch it, and just the opening scene with the mother hit me like brick wall.
As time passed, things went back to normal. But I knew I would never forget what happened. During this time, I wrote the song Open Window, and dedicated it to the journey.
I had picked up the idea of saving the world again.. and this time I went full-throttle. I began writing songs with the best of my ability. Songs that hinted esoteric philosophy in their lyrics, and thus the song Esoteric Revolution was written. I never did completely finish the lyrics, but I had mapped out all the guitar and bass. And my guitar playing was getting better.
Actually, my guitar playing was turning into something else. I began improvising, not playing things I had written or learned, but just simply playing the guitar. And I got good. I mean, really good. The notes would just flow out of the guitar, and my hands would move as if on their own. Some of my best pieces were written in my room. I began to think I could channel life itself through the guitar, and drew a symbol of the seed of life on the body. I also wrote, “Music is My God, and I am His Instrument.”
At this point I was living at my friend Alex's house. He like, Drew, quickly became one of the best buds I could ever hope for. And him and I would speak Wookie, sometimes for days on end. That would be our only form of communication.
I had ran away from my families house one night. I had been grounded, yet told my friends to come over and sneak into my car. They did, but I made one too many trips back into the house, and my step father saw my friends in the car. We got busted, and I remember storming into my room and kicking the door. But I was then eighteen. I was an adult, and I didn't want to put up with this anymore. So I packed my backpack and left.
First I went to my friend Gage's, but I wouldn't be able to stay there. His father did however, give me enough money for a hotel. I decided to call and ask Alex, and his father agreed to let me stay there till the end of high school.
With my new found freedom, I quickly begun to flourish. I entered my prime state, and although I was kind of a rebel at school, I did have respect. I would dress in unique styles, and would take my guitar anywhere with me. While I drove, the guitar would be in the passenger seat. And at stop lights, I would play it until the light turned green.
I was still driving a Volkswagen, but the Westfalia had been sold. But I now had a Beetle. And a pretty stylish one. The exterior was kind of a cream white, with very large front seats that had red patting.
My friends and I would party all the time, go camping on the weekends and get as high as the clouds themselves. We would also drink lots of liquor and beer.. don't ask how we got them at our age, but let's just say we had a number of methods. And one of these methods was stealing, which I am not proud of but it happened.
One occurrence happened at a Save Mart where I was to go in with a backpack and leave with a couple bottles of alcohol. I put the bottles in the backpack, but I knew the workers were following me. So I put them back, and left the store. They came out and stopped me, told me to open my backpack. So I did, and nothing was there, but they then proceeded to ban me from ever coming to that store again.
That day, my friends and I went up the forest anyway after school, and I had found a little blue rope on the ground. I tied it around my wrist, and declared that as long as I wear this, I would not steal again. This was after a realization, that even though I'm not really stealing from a person, that people work hard to put these products in stores.. thus in a way I am stealing.
Overall, things were great. I had had a couple of girlfriends since Jessie, and was not a virgin anymore. In fact, I was very open about sexual interaction. At that time I didn't really believe in monogamous relationships or marriage. I liked to think of a wedding ring as more of a friendship ring.
I was with a girl named Emily, whom would also play a major part as a hallucination later on. She was one cool gal, and I still remember picking her up from work and the kiss we had while the sun was setting.
I had also picked up smoking. I know, its bad. I always tell people, cigarettes are the worst present you can get yourself on your eighteenth birthday. But I've been smoking ever since. It quickly became my thing, and everywhere I went I would have a cigarette in my hand.
One of friends, Tanner, knew someone that worked at a recording studio. He was able to get her to come by and listen to my music. She agreed to give me some studio time. That was it. The esoteric revolution was going to happen. I knew this was my destiny, and all the years of hard work had lead up to this moment. But, fate it seems, had a different plan for me.
It was a day just like any other. My friend Alex was in the room on the computer, and I was laying in bed. I felt very at ease, almost euphoric. Things had been going well, and although I wasn't doing too well in school I did have a plan. And I was happy.. for it felt like I was doing what I was meant to do on this earth. I didn't really believe in fate, or an ultimate purpose. Rather, the path that had laid in front of me was formed out of circumstantial existentialism.
It was loud. I mean, like someone fired one of the biggest fireworks right by my ear. It sounded musical in way, like all the notes in an octave were mashed together, unified by some sort of synth. It must of lasted about ten seconds or so, and I laid there bewildered.
I looked up at Alex, and he was still on the computer as if nothing happened. I asked him if he heard anything, and he replied, “Hear what?”
It didn't take long before my symptoms began to appear. I had tried to shrug off the explosive experience, but everything happened so quick. It was like a switch had been flipped..
I was in my room, this time alone working on music with the program Reason. As I wrote, I began to hear a couple of voices. And they weren't just any voices, but they were sort of critiquing my music as I wrote. At first I thought I was hearing my neighbors through the wall, but that was impossible because I was wearing headphones. How could they even hear the music?
I looked up at a small window that was in the corner of the room, and saw two little birds hopping around. I thought, could it be the birds? Are they listening to my music, and somehow I am telepathically hearing their thoughts interpreted as english? Sure enough, the dialog seemed to fit that theory. But it also sounded as if it was a couple of men.
So I began to ponder what would make sense if this was the case. Obviously, it can't be the neighbors.. Alex was in his room on the other side of the house. And the headphones. The sound barely left them even at full blast.
Maybe, just maybe, I was hearing two men who were watching over me. And what I mean by that, is that in another dimension I had another body. This body was hooked up to machines and served as my next vehicle in the afterlife. Given my life goals and history, I was a person of interest so the people that worked in this dimension, call them angels, extraterrestrials, etc. were watching me everyday.
What had happened, is with all the marijuana and music, zen and metaphysical understandings I had developed extraordinary hearing. In fact I was hearing through my other body in the afterlife dimension. And these two voices, who seemed male, were a couple of men that were watching over me. I was hearing them listening to what I was writing and talking about it. They didn't know I could hear them, not just yet.
See, I've always had a large imagination. And this combined with schizophrenia can be lethal. A funny thing happens when you a presented with a hallucination. All around you, nothing is different. But something is there, and it's just as real as anything else. From my point of view, this theory of angels could have been 100% true. It doesn't matter what you think, or what doctors think. To the person experiencing the hallucinations, they might as well be real occurrences. That being said, I do think its possible to counteract this mental paradigm, but it took almost four years before I could really see somewhat straight again.
Back then, I had no clue what schizophrenia was. I had no idea that what I was experiencing could have been hallucinations. I was confused, but a large part of me believed that these voices originated from actual people. Such a large part that it might as well have been real.
The next day or so, I began to not only hear these two men but a radio. And you guessed it, the radio was talking about me. But not directly, in fact it took awhile until I could figure it out. I was still clinging on to the thought that I was okay, and something logical was happening. I told myself, the neighbors have their radio on real loud. Yeah, that must be it.
But I listened closer to the dialog of the radio host. She was female, and it seemed that she liked to talk about “The Guitarist”. And it was when I sat down and played guitar, I could hear here announce that a performance was about to happen. I could also hear large crowds cheering.
Just like the birds, I couldn't help but try and figure out what was going on. Okay, so they can hear the guitar. And they are broadcasting over a radio, which I thought had to be the college radio. The woman who hosted the radio station seemed like she couldn't be much older than me.
They must be recording me somehow. I know that, when I'm in the backyard I like to play my improvisations. The neighbors had to have recording equipment behind that fence. Or maybe, just maybe, there was a camera in my room?
Oh how I began to hate that radio host. I couldn't get rid of her, no matter how much I tried. I couldn't ignore her, for what she said infuriated me. She would make fun of me if the guitar playing wasn't up to par, and the crowd would get mad. I remember writing a note on a piece of paper saying I don't want to perform anymore and held it up to a little frog statue in the room. The statue had little black eyes and I suspected a camera was inside it.
You can already tell, I was pretty much in psychosis. And it only took a day or two. But that's how it works. Do you see the progression in scenario? How all it takes is a couple tiny voices, to sort of butterfly effect into something larger. As I would come up with theories, the hallucinations would act accordingly. And I had a large imagination, so it all made sense to me. That is the key thing, is that these scenarios want you to believe them. The brain is very clever.. it knows exactly what you want to hear. Back then I dreamed of being a rockstar, and sure enough, within a couple of days I was running around town thinking my guitar playing was broadcasted all over the world. I was “The Guitarist”.
To accompany the theory of extrasensory hearing, I would hear what sounded like dialog from people from impossible distances. I remember being at the park, which my friends and I would frequent to hang out or party. There was two cops in the distance, they must have been a couple of football fields away. But I could hear them, and I was so sure of it.
Things began to get out of had. People in the town were starting to figure out who this “Guitarist” was. On my way to school I remember passing cars and hearing the drivers commenting on me. And it was no secret that I wanted to start a philosophic revolution. I was very open about it back then, and would play the songs I wrote everywhere I went.
It became a matter of national security. At home I could hear whispers.. hinting that I was to be executed. I got in my car and drove off to the forest. At this point I was scared for my life. I remember standing on the picnic table, with my hands behind my head. There was a sniper aiming right at me. I could hear what sounded like the military. Tears were running down my face.
But President Obama canceled the assassination. I was so relieved. I laid down on the picnic table and something happened that I can't explain even to this day. The birds in the trees all around me began to chirp, as if cheering. It was thunderous.
This was the end of the scenario, but just the beginning to a lifelong struggle with psychosis.
As time passed, the scenarios would get more and more complex. I began dealing with things such as chakra technology, the Christian God and angels, an Annunaki takeover of earth in which I was forced to kill human telepathics by blowing air through my nose while holding my nostrils closed. The frequency it would send would cause their heads to explode, and I could feel it.
I would frequent the forest, attempting suicide countless times. I thought I could hear a military base on Mars called Intergalactic, ran by Alan Watts. I would have dreams, very vivid, of meeting extraterrestrials. I saved the universe once. I've been in contact with ghosts and the dream plane. I generated a whole new universe before. I was the big bang in an alternate dimension. I then imploded this dimension and killed everyone inside it. I've been a victim of secret societies, international bankers, free masons, and once was sure I saw the black pope.
I've walked around town, in nothing but short shorts with a small tee-shirt.. mud stained legs and no shoes. I've been conserved twice, each one lasting a year. I have been on over a dozen different medications, and I have been a victim of Akathisia. I've seen the way people look at me, like I'm some sort of freak.
It has been a long road. And it is not over.. not even close. Thank God I found medication that somewhat does what the hell it is suppose to. All I want is to be with my family for the holidays. And yet, even now, my sanity is fleeting. I still fall into psychosis, thinking all this time I was an experiment by the U.S. Government. And they scare me with Grey Aliens. I can't keep my eyes open at night, because everything starts to shapeshift. It always feels like there is someone in the room. I had a dream yesterday that I was anally probed.. I woke up and could still feel the sensation lingering.
I don't know what the fuck is going on, and if anyone is responsible you better have a good god damn explanation. These are people's lives you are fucking with, and if there has been any foul play you are barking up the wrong tree. And I'm looking at you, all-seeing eye. With a thousand burning hearts..
Who knows. At least I have my music.. left something on this earth. I am so alone.. I cope with listening to my hallucinations. I don't even know if I can have regular relationships with people. I've tried going to programs and day care, but within weeks I fall back into my little hole. I have some friends online that live across the country and thank God for them. Thank you for hearing me out, and not judging me for what has occurred here.
I decided to not attempt to write out the scenarios that have take place over the years in a chronological sense. I've tried before, and it is too hard because I don't really remember the transition periods. So what I'm going to do is make another entry dedicated to events that took place that I can remember clearly. Maybe I'll be able to explain the Shift Episode.
Of course it could all be my imagination. There's not a ounce in me that thinks the brain is not intricate enough to manifest what has happened, and is still happening. I think the thing that pisses me off is that doctors and so forth almost hold on to their books as if they were bibles. Do you really know the truth? Of course the drug company makes a killing off anti-psychotics. I am confident when I say I'm not in psychosis when I ponder the reality of schizophrenia. In fact, I believe I'm quite a damn down-to-earth guy.
But it gets to me. It's hard to stay balanced. I tell myself these are hallucinations, that all these years it has only been in my head. I force myself to see it that way. Not only does it make everything easier to cope with, but society seems to accept me for it. And I like it. I like defining myself as schizophrenic. I feel like a baby.
I think I might end this section here. Everything sort of came out at once. I hope you got an idea of my childhood and the years later. I wish I had more to write. I feel really good right now though.. and you guessed it the hallucinations are acting accordingly. The “Greys” are sitting here smiling. The government is is acting concerned. All the while I'm just trying to be excited for my birthday coming up in seven days. But, as I like to say in my head.. that's just the way the cookie crumbles.