KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2023_ENTRY_348
Within five minutes of opening the window, I heard a single car honk immediately after I had the thought that the entire neighborhood and town is under some kind of deep state surveillance and subliminal influence. I feel a “tension” in the air like people are mad at me for not going to some designated indoor location each night and to stay there and not move around too much. I have spent approximately three years spending almost all my time outside of houses and almost all of my time outside. My sense of space and territorial boundaries are probably different than most people’s are. My parietal lobe is probably much different from than what seemingly everyone else in this town has. Unlike Dublin, Fremont, Hayward, Oakland, Berkeley, and San Francisco, there seem to be close to zero unhoused people in Castro Valley. I take it some people around here are seriously opposed to me being part-time unhoused (instead of full-time unhoused (i.e. staying outside or in homeless shelters, hospitals, and prisons only) or full-time housed (i.e. spending more than 8 hours per day inside a housing unit every day)).
My parents are watching television in my mom’s bedroom. My brother (who drove up here from Las Angeles to do work-related stuff in Pleasanton for about two weeks) is apparently sleeping in my childhood bedroom. I am sitting in my brother’s childhood bedroom. My maternal grandfather is watching television in his bedroom downstairs. The wind blows the treetops outside. A car engine ignited. I am typing up this note with the intent to publish it on my secondary website before I quietly slink off into the night outside wherever the wind blows (which is a poetic way of saying I intend to be spontaneous about where I go tonight rather than be fixitated exclusively on any particular plan).
One “part of me” proclaims that it wants to go into hiding and take up as little of other people’s time, energy, and money as possible.
Another “part of me” wants to be as greedy and as much of an opportunist pig as it can get away with.
Another “part of me” is scheming its next moves in some intricate fantasy world of warfare (which is painful and not really fun even though I desperately try to believe it is).
Another “part of me” is dealing with being gaslit seemingly by everyone except for a small number of kindred spirits online.
I saw tonight that my mom wants me to have zero interpersonal relationships outside the home. I am afraid that she would have me put away in a mental hospital or prison (and possibly even tortured) if she could have her way.
I feel like I am being gaslit by my family in particular. They seem to not want to tell me something which pertains to my life which they know about and discuss amongst themselves but not with me (like I’m supposed to feel ostracized, socially isolated, deprived of respect, deprived of honesty, and coerced into playing the role of some troubled person).
Perhaps my intelligence, sensitivity, willingness to communicate (and be brutally honest), and autonomy is an inconvenience or a threat to others.
I have been scolded a lot in the past for the “crime” of “showing off” and for being “self absorbed”. I think that if I did not “show off” as I did and that if I did not be as “self absorbed” as I was, I would not be as happy as I am (and that I would be less happy instead).
There are pigs living in my vicinity taking up my time and costing me a fortune because they intrude upon my personal boundaries. They have to have the television volume up so loud. The neighbors are also loud and cranky sounding. I don’t think those neighbors like me. I think they want me to feel punished.
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