Everything that comes across my screens is related to me, relayed for me. That might not sound that different than how its supposed to be, but for me its talking to me. The things that happen they're posted for me even when they're for someone else. Not everything, not all the time, not even necessarily frequently; but when it does happen it happens intensely, unrelentingly. I feel so sick. I know I'm sick. these things cant be true there aren't many people communicating with me to push me toward something, much less some large entity orchestrating the feeds to give me this realization. orchestrating events in my life to do it. I'm not really important enough for that, I'm not special. I want to be and so I feel paranoia about all of this because I want to be important, I want to be something that matters, I want to have something destined about me. even if its just something horrible to come after me that no one else does. it would be so exciting. and it is. so exciting I that when it happens I want anything else, i no longer want to have been chosen. I want to hide and never come out. I want to run away and escape from it. I no longer have any where to go though. I can't convince myself its not real. Its been like this for years and its constantly getting worse. At first it was just relentless deja vu that seemed innocuous, but when that went away I was left with visions of my demise. endless and varied iterations of it, they never came to pass and so I kept quiet about it. at one point I was worried enough about being followed i tried antipsychotics, but that feeling was worse than death, or at least the sporadic fear of being stalked. Now the deja vu is back, more intense but oddly voluntary. I can simply reach out and endlessly step into where I'm at. a cascade of entering the present. its nauseating. I blanketed myself with marijuana for years before this, to cope with what was here before. it took me to a point of anxiety which couldn't be described as anything less than mystical. often tears would stream down my face, not from fear but from the feeling of being completely consumed by something and how relieving it was to just be part of what had absorbed me, that there was nothing of me left outside of it, and so even though i was strung through knots I could just rest into that. just lay on the tension and the fear. I've since quit smoking but the anxiety has not significantly reduced since before it broke me. I began seeing a ring of coloured lines floating before my left eye, an additional and external iris which occluded my vision but i was grateful for it. some times it comes back and I enjoy its presence. I feel special, like something kind has taken residence inside me. i know none of this is real, but it feels as real as so many things that I know are real. there's a litter of impossible memories in my mind that feel as real as what i was doing only minutes ago. there are some before that I wont mention but a key one was meeting him the first day of high school. i was late and he was in the lobby all alone and he stopped me, we talked, I cant remember about what, it makes me sick to try. but for the rest of the year i remember citing things i hadn't read or seen until years later in my algebra class. I remember having him two years later for calculus and being asked "what happened to you?", i simply wasn't in tune with all those things I would watch as a college flunky. though I'm sure the constant speedballs didn't help my performance much either. it was about this time i left the girl I was dating, and with her the drugs she was funneling me. it was about that time I started blanketing with weed. the deja vu hadn't begun yet I think. I began dating another girl, one whom the first had said would want me when I left her. I didn't understand that at the time, I thought we were in love so I couldn't fathom why she would say when we would break up (which turned out to be a year and a half later) I shouldn't date this person. I remembered the name but not the warning. hell if it wasn't for the second girl I wouldn't have broken free from the first. I don't remember much about the time we spent together, I'm told it was quite a bit. I remember going over once maybe twice and I would sit on the couch and there would be another person, an older woman, well older than me at the time, probably in her late twenties or early thirties that sat at a computer and would make notes or comment on things that I cant really recall. vaguely I remember her saying something like "please don't do this" to the girl i was dating. That girl would exist somewhere else in the room and ask questions about my future and I would answer. I would tell everything exactly as has happened up until now. sometimes he would laugh, it feels like she hated me. none of my visions of destruction have ever come true but all my experience is compressed backwards through that moment. which may have been multiple meeting over weeks or months. it has become the center through which everything is related. all these messages, the things talking to me, the thing I'm supposed to do or be? it was all laid out there and despite the premonitions never coming true I cant shake it. any moment I want I can be consumed by de ja vu. I'm so sick and I cant wake up, its all so real but its not true. eventually I left her too, I never had I deep love for her, it was never even physical, we just talked and cuddled a bit. I'm not sure why we dated. eventually I went back to the first girl and things were much the same as before, but eventually be broke up and she started dating someone who I never saw. much older than us, I suspect the man from the lobby, but ill never know. she and I had sex infrequently after that until we stopped seeing each other. this time by her request rather than mine. that's when the weed really started to creep in. most nights, every night, and after a few years every day and for the last two all day. in the middle there was a time where I would bite my lip and spit the blood on objects to remind myself that a visitor had come to me in the night, which was the middle of the day when I was alone and asleep, to whisper things in my ear. sometimes i would awaken and be unable to identify them or remember what they said, I couldn't resist or be aggressive. but I would spit blood on my walls or into my closet or put cuts into objects to mark that they were there. I did this because these meetings felt false, unlike who knows how many of the memories which aren't real but feel that way. eventually this stopped and so did my acts of self vandalism. it all drifted into the same sense of unreality, things that felt like they happened, some evidence that they did but a complete inability to sort any of it let alone get anyone to believe me. who could I tell this to? who wouldn't lock me up? I finally found someone to tell, she listened the first time, but she gets annoyed when I say what its progressed to. When I say there are things listening. When I say there are things in the screen trying to talk to me. Get me to act for them. at least its been a few months since anything has tried to talk to me through her. Although that's sometimes something I miss. She's never believed me, and who can blame her. She can tell from my story that I'm just sick. I'm sure you can to.