In the morning, I try to go back to sleep. My body is ready to go, my mind doesn't want to be ready to go and deal with a day of thinking. I need a break from thinking. I fall back asleep and I get up an hour later.
I don't think about food, that's really more of a night time thing.
I check my email. Twenty-seven non-spam emails waiting for replies. I put on my headphones and begin responding, still barely awake. Schizotypals with delusions and anxiety are asking for reassurance, schizoids just want to talk to someone who isn't stupid and has no connection to them, psychopaths know I know and want to at last talk about it, suicidal people, other people with Aspergers who have found comfort in knowing someone real is like they are. I type minimal words back, I answer their questions, give examples, and let them reply to me again with a long email.
Sometimes they ask about me. Some of them are much more interested in me than they are getting help from me.
I feel intellectually stimulated and nothing emotionally. this is what I do.
Drawing time. I try not to plan my drawings. I like to draw with both hands to let my subconscious decide much of what comes out through art. I draw weird things, almost always including blood, and if I just want to draw for drawings' sake, I draw Erika.
Drawing Erika can lead me to suicidology research or to editing; I am currently in the process of adding some Fe (emotion) to my second novel where Erika is also a central character. Writing from Miriam's perspective drives me crazy; she's an ESFP (malfunctioned) with a wonky relationship to her twin and a stalking obsession with Erika. Miriam feels a lot. Writing as Erika is easy because she rarely feels anything, and Lewis feels but he's a guy so it's relatable.
I realize I'm being a hermit. I need to go out. I text all day really but that's not enough. I need to be in the light, I need to be around conversation. I don't desire these things much but I know that if I don't pull myself from my brain and my research and whatever the hell I'm doing on my planet, I'll keep floating until it's very difficult and very shocking to come back to reality. I put it off by cleaning a little. I go to the store maybe but probably not because I have no money. I go to the gym. I go see family and when I see family, friends also come over.
I'm quiet around my people. I don't feel anxious or shy around them, although I don't make eye contact. I don't start big conversations and I interject little. What I say is often not heard or is informative. Sometimes both. I listen to the conversation around me a little. It's about....nothing, really. If I started talking about what I spent all day researching, and what I'm pondering, and what I'm writing, they would stare, like they always do, say "...okay" and then talk over me.
I don't really "socialize" as much as I "participate."
I leave and go by my fathers house. Nothing much to say there. No news? No news. Get some stuff and go home. I decide if I'm going to read, write, draw, or research. I know it's going to be one of those things. There's a chance if I'm in a mood that I'll paint. There's a chance I'll watch the same show over and over. I will shower, eat at some point, and contemplate what combination of sleeping pills to take later. Cartoons maybe but probably not, you need to work on Two Hearts. While you think about what it would be like to be Miriam, you take pictures of your doll that was made to look like Erika, much like Miriam would take pictures of real Erika if any of this were real and it weren't just an elaborate world centered around a trilogy that you spend so much time on.
Dizzy
I don't think about food, that's really more of a night time thing.
I check my email. Twenty-seven non-spam emails waiting for replies. I put on my headphones and begin responding, still barely awake. Schizotypals with delusions and anxiety are asking for reassurance, schizoids just want to talk to someone who isn't stupid and has no connection to them, psychopaths know I know and want to at last talk about it, suicidal people, other people with Aspergers who have found comfort in knowing someone real is like they are. I type minimal words back, I answer their questions, give examples, and let them reply to me again with a long email.
Sometimes they ask about me. Some of them are much more interested in me than they are getting help from me.
I feel intellectually stimulated and nothing emotionally. this is what I do.
Drawing time. I try not to plan my drawings. I like to draw with both hands to let my subconscious decide much of what comes out through art. I draw weird things, almost always including blood, and if I just want to draw for drawings' sake, I draw Erika.
Drawing Erika can lead me to suicidology research or to editing; I am currently in the process of adding some Fe (emotion) to my second novel where Erika is also a central character. Writing from Miriam's perspective drives me crazy; she's an ESFP (malfunctioned) with a wonky relationship to her twin and a stalking obsession with Erika. Miriam feels a lot. Writing as Erika is easy because she rarely feels anything, and Lewis feels but he's a guy so it's relatable.
I realize I'm being a hermit. I need to go out. I text all day really but that's not enough. I need to be in the light, I need to be around conversation. I don't desire these things much but I know that if I don't pull myself from my brain and my research and whatever the hell I'm doing on my planet, I'll keep floating until it's very difficult and very shocking to come back to reality. I put it off by cleaning a little. I go to the store maybe but probably not because I have no money. I go to the gym. I go see family and when I see family, friends also come over.
I'm quiet around my people. I don't feel anxious or shy around them, although I don't make eye contact. I don't start big conversations and I interject little. What I say is often not heard or is informative. Sometimes both. I listen to the conversation around me a little. It's about....nothing, really. If I started talking about what I spent all day researching, and what I'm pondering, and what I'm writing, they would stare, like they always do, say "...okay" and then talk over me.
I don't really "socialize" as much as I "participate."
I leave and go by my fathers house. Nothing much to say there. No news? No news. Get some stuff and go home. I decide if I'm going to read, write, draw, or research. I know it's going to be one of those things. There's a chance if I'm in a mood that I'll paint. There's a chance I'll watch the same show over and over. I will shower, eat at some point, and contemplate what combination of sleeping pills to take later. Cartoons maybe but probably not, you need to work on Two Hearts. While you think about what it would be like to be Miriam, you take pictures of your doll that was made to look like Erika, much like Miriam would take pictures of real Erika if any of this were real and it weren't just an elaborate world centered around a trilogy that you spend so much time on.
Dizzy
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