VaporwaveHistorian

Sometimes I crush my antipsychotic tablet with my teeth instead of swallowing it. And then it quickly hits me with a wave of calmness and extreme sleepiness. Man, for 15 minutes, I can feel the unbelievable harmony on this earth. No bad thoughts. No stress. Just let it go for once. It's beautiful, man. It's beautiful.

I let the voice in my head (old fighter pilot) chat with ChatGPT (instructed to be a wise man). Here's an excerpt:

ChatGPT: I wonder, what would you say is the greatest lesson you've learned from your experiences—be it from the war, from the quiet moments in the woods, or from the changes in the world around you?

Voice: In the war... you are not supposed to think of the "humanity" in the sense of Renaissance. You know, the *humanity* in everyone, something grand that is the base of all things on the earth, is it not? But the war, the very existence of war... it is against the very thing. Back then was the same, and today is the same and perhaps scarier with newly invented destruction methods! We are forgetting humanity. Even in the trenches, in the barracks; we would try to hold onto the last remainders of it. We were trying to enjoy the little time we had, the time that could run out unannounced. We were drinking, singing, toasting, playing cards, smoking, and chatting. Look at the world--you would expect things to be calmer after two Great Wars, but unfortunately...

ChatGPT: What do you think is the greatest hope we can have in this world, given the reality we face today? How can we continue to hold onto what is truly human, despite everything that pulls us away from it?

Voice: The greatest hope is life itself. Such a miracle--from nothing in the mother's womb to fully designed and fleshed bodies and souls. Look at it--is it not true that there is hope as long as there is life? The very creation of life is full of hopes and miracles. Is its course not? Look at the world... every single day, we face thousands of dangers and possible deaths that we are not aware of. Yet, we make it out alive without even noticing. There is hope, there are miracles, and there is life. Such a blessing, do you not think so?

ChatGPT: How do you think we can honor this gift, this miracle, as we move forward?

Voice: Well, the answer is simple: less stress, more pastries and good music.

I happily told my therapist that no, I don't want to kill myself, I just have a long and perfectly operable plan to fake my death in another country in 4-6 years if needed. I really thought that it would ease her worries but she noted a LOT down that notebook.

The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook

Friends, i drank with family outside at lunch and it hit me a lil hard, then we went to a bakery and it was cold outside but warm inside, and my mother was holding me by the arm because i am a cripple AND a drunk, and i saw gingerbeead houses so cute that i started laughing at the beauty of it all. My God, what curious creative creatures these lil humans are. I love humans. I fucking love the world. I wanna limp around laughing about the beauty of wveryrhing

There's a dead bird in the grassy area by the building I stay. They assigned me to an inaccessible building, so I cannot use the stairs outside that normal people use. I go up and down the grassy area instead. No one else does. There's that dead bird for a month now. Only I know the dead bird. I pass by it every single day and I developed some kind of familiarity. Sympathy. Some kind of a gentle feeling for it. It rains on it. Snows on it. It's always there. No one knows. I am not disturbed at all. I feel sad for it sometimes. I think it fell off one of those nests in the trees nearby. I hope it didn't hurt too much. That's my friend now.

Last night I was cutting a pomegranate. I found worms in it. I cut away the part with the worms and carried it outside. I put the worms on the soil to give them life. I didn't want them to be crushed in the trash.

Living in nature makes me a calmer person. Sort of. It's the people in the building that drive me mad, but nature calms me down.

Man I'm fucking my life up without meaning to. I haven't skipped my meds at all but this shit is HARD hard. I pick up on little things like wordings of a sentence, or my brain makes up patterns out of nowhere ("This person isn't talking to me as often as they used to, so they must hate me" etc). Then I fuck up my interactions and end up hurting them and myself. It's very serious. Every human interaction I have is guaranteed to go wrong if it exceeds 30 minutes a day (includes family members, best friends, etc).

Man, if anyone can recommend me any books or articles or videos to fix this shit, I will be very thankful. I go to my therapist weekly, but I still manage to fuck shit up between two therapy visits

Been a while since I posted I think. I got some art to share and a thread to make at some point. Waiting for the depressive episode to end

Exam today. The voices in my head do not cooperate with me sadly, but if I manage to convince them, we can do wonders at the exam. Sometimes they speak so nicely, their words aligned like the stars or pearls on a string. I write it all down, finish very quickly, then fuck off. Just aiming for that cooperation. But Caligula's a brat today (no offense to him but he's been insulting me a lot). C'mon.

You know that Orpheus is not supposed to look back. He needs to keep going and trust that Eurydice will come right after. But God, I am a historian. Historians do nothing but look back. What I cherish have turned to dust before any of my traceable ancestors.

Had an exam of an hour. I finished in around 15 mins and fucked off. Of course it was about Roman history. Professor looked at my paper, then at me, and laughed. That's one way to etch my name into his brain for the first time He told me that he'd have to call me to his office to read out my paper to him because of my handwriting. We laughed more.

I love exam weeks. Skip classes, study, hallucinate from caffeine and the lack of sleep, then God's (symbolic) hand reaches you from the paper and you finish it in 15 mins and disappear.

I was watching Meet the Romans with Mary Beard (Ep. 3), she talks about Roman marriage and shows a sarcophagus art, holding the hands of the couple, and look at this:


History is like that. You are witnessing the most intimate and loving memories of people from hundreds or thousands of years ago. It's like loving with every memory of their love, crying with every memory of their mourning, always witnessing how grand our humanity is

I don't remember if I wrote about it before but my main handwriting is Old Roman Cursive now. It's smoother and hurts my hands less. It's also more legible compared to my old usual handwriting. I love this stuff. They'd write like this in personal letters or some of the graffiti on walls back in Ancient Rome. There are different personal styles (making it lean left or right, having more space or less between the letters, making the letters fuller etc). This is English btw, just written in Old Roman Cursive style since the letters are the same.

Hear this: I restarted antipsychotics on Sunday night. I took a full tablet. On the next day, Monday, I cut a tablet in half with a razor (the very razor that disappeared for an entire day and reappeared in my drawer). I took half. The other half, I took on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I cut a new tablet in half with a razor. I took half right afterwards, down my throat with water, and put the remaining half in my drawer.

Today I opened the drawer and saw two halves. Brother, what the fuck. I also found a single strand of long hair trapped in my Bible. I do not have long hair. No one touches my belongings in the room, I hope.

Professor gave a whole speech, 30 mins, about not using ChatGPT or paying people to do your work. She, in private, asked me to run my assignment through a plagiarism checker and send her the report. Because "some people are not writing like they speak, and I can tell".

Ma'am, you cannot tell. I do not verbally communicate with human beings. And when I write, my language structure is largely shaped by early 20th century novels about the Roman Empire. And gay fiction. I can't believe this got me into the "academic integrity suspect list" in her brain. I have not used machinery to do the work for me. I eat one meal a day to cut down on costs, I have not paid anyone either!

Insane lore recall: I was like 6 years old and I now know that I was gonna have a little sibling. It wasn't certain but my parents were trying (and hinting it by "You may have a lil sibling!", "I would love another child!" and the overheard "I saw we had another kid in my dream, and today I got so happy when I got the news".) I pieced that shit together now.

It never happened. No lil siblings. Maybe I was the reason. Maybe I caused her to miscarry or abort. It was for the best, because God knows you shouldn't bring another victim into life while you're still abusing your youngest. Pretty sure the kiddo would die this way or another.

Got a nice haircut. Fresh n stuff. It's a mix of backstreet jumper and American Johnny. It feels nice in the wind, no need to brush anymore, hell yeah

I fucking love history books where the author doesn't give a shit about "sounding cool and formal" and talks like a lad at a coffeehouse. Like:

"...Lydia... where coinage and gambling were both invented -perhaps simultaneously?- and of whose inhabitants Herodotus was to write: 'Except for the fact that they prostitute their daughters, the manners of the Lydians are much like our own.'"
The Middle Sea, J. J. Norwich, Chapter 2 page 16.

Brother, you know how when we hit a low spot and we say "I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this anymore", yeah? Look, if you kill yourself, you are actually making sure that you ARE spending the rest of your life miserably. Because you end it without any possibility of things getting better. But if you survive, I guarantee that there will be at least one thing in this whole wide world that will come to you and make you feel profoundly happy, at least for a moment. And it will stay with you.

Lads the depressive episode is here like clockwork. 2 months of this, 2 months of that. Missed 4 exams and my sleep schedule is shit. I'll be depending on the finals. Sometimes it's hard af. I know it will get better but oh God.

Currently sitting at the staircase at 3 am to eat whatever canned food I've got. But I forced myself to take a walk today. Lasted 7 km, around 2 hours I believe. Up a hill. While going down, I looked at the path and the lights, and I was listening to Souvlaki Space Station. Things didn't feel as bad for a moment. I liked it.