The Temporary Workplace Friend

4/20/10 3:04:16 AM

I think some of my bad mood comes from handling my computer. After I use it, I get into a bad mood for hours. I know that it got contaminated at the other apartment, and even though I've wiped it off many times since then, it still has some residues on it, and also on the cardboard that I've set it on. I call it the 'duckpond drug mix' (it was the house at the duckpond). It's an unknown combination of several drug residues, including mostly tobacco and St. John's Wort, but maybe other things as well (I also handled the seeds of Camellia Sinensis tea, cacao beans, coffee bean seeds, ephedra, butterfly weed, and Stevia Rebaudiana.)

I went to see Peter tonight, and after being there for a while, sitting at his computer fooling around with games and the internet while he made some kind of egg salad, my mood started getting bad again.

I haven't been able to make love with him very much for a long time. We never did very much, not even in the beginning, but after he got onto the blood pressure drugs and other drugs, he became more numbed down and lifeless, and I don't just mean erectile dysfunction, but his whole body and the aura around him. I get the drugs in me when I touch his skin or kiss his lips, and they make me feel numb and tired and sedated. It's an anti-sexual feeling. I get secondhand drugs from his skin and from other surfaces in his house, like tables and chairs and the floor. Something on the floor there seems to mess up my thyroid.

When I look in his eyes, I see sickness. His eyes are red and sticky-looking, dried out, and swollen partly shut. This is from all his drugs, his diabetes, his kidney failure, his thyroid problem, a problem with his tear ducts, and his dehydration (he refuses to drink any water because the dialysis people tell him not to. I would say screw them, drink as much water as you need, but he won't.) I don't see energy or vitality or life. I don't see a connection, I don't see understanding of who I am, a connection with my spirit.

We were hugging and kissing a little bit, but my miserable feeling got worse and worse and it made me want to leave instead of trying to make love with him. Being with him just made me terribly sad and depressed and I felt desperate to get out the door. I kept thinking of the guy at work. I think also that my blood sugar was going lower or something - it was some kind of reaction, or drug withdrawal after touching the computer - I felt hungry and I started yawning and I wanted to cry. So I left. He knows to expect that kind of thing from me. Usually, there's almost always a reaction of some kind when I go over there, or else I get attacked and they give me a forced urge to leave, an unbearable sensation that I cannot relax and calm down and stay there, but instead I am being burned and I have to get up and leave.

I got home, ate something, and felt better quickly after eating. But I don't feel like it was just from wanting food. The bad mood makes me think about the guy that I'm unable to connect with at work. I asked him a couple times if he'd gotten my messages, and he said he hadn't. His tone of voice and his overall behavior made it look like he was telling the truth - he really didn't get some of my messages.

Then he explained, a couple days later, that his phone was limited in the number of messages it could receive per month. That makes me uncertain. I don't know how that works. Somehow, when we were in the middle of a text message back-and-forth conversation, some of his responses made it seem like he had read a different message than what I had actually sent. I sent something, but maybe he received an old message from a long time ago instead of the message I was currently writing. That's the time when he said, 'idk, you give me notes, you hear voices, wtf, i know this nicole,' which had no connection with anything I had been saying. I received that message three times in a row. Then, I became unable to get any response from him at all after that.

There was actually some kind of a problem. I don't think his telephone's message limit explains it. I think instead that it's the people hacking my computers and messing with my emails. It happens in email too, even though there's no 'message limit' of any kind. And that means it's hopeless - there's no reliable way to reach him by text message.

I have tried to explain to him that messaging him is hopeless. This means that my relationship with him can only be a temporary thing, only in the workplace, and not outside of work, and it cannot continue after he or I leave that place, when one of us quits or gets fired (I don't see either one of us being there for a really long time, like decades or something). I know that this is a forced project that they gave me - I wouldn't have even TRIED to do this on my own, because I was sure it was futile and impossible from the beginning - but even so, whenever they brainwash me to believe it's possible, I do get my hopes up. They're trying to make me form a long-term friendship with him that will continue outside the workplace and after he or I leave.

I can't persuade him to agree that this friendship is important or useful to him. Why would somebody want to do this? What does he have to gain? The type of friendship that I am offering is something where, for instance, if his car breaks down, I can give him a ride somewhere. Or if he gets thrown out of his house, I can take him in. (I'd have to prepare first, though - my drug residues and chemical sensitivity have forced me to do strange things in here, like cover the carpets with paper to walk on.) I can help with projects and things he needs to get done. I can encourage him and help him if he needs to look for a job - and I would go get job applications and fill them out for him, the easy parts, since I'm used to filling out job applications by now. I am offering to support him in a variety of ways, as a friend. And yes, he has a girlfriend right now, but if he felt that he wanted to have more than one lover/girlfriend, or if he broke up with his girlfriend, I would like to be with him.

So they're making me try to do this instead of leaving him alone.

He is in a different world from me. He lives in the normal world where it's all light and happy and nothing bad happens. In that world, there aren't any people hearing voices or getting attacked by electronic weapons. There aren't any drug residues poisoning people. He's in the mainstream world where people don't know about, and don't care about, the things that I suffer every day of my life. It's a place where you watch television together in the evenings. (I don't have a TV in my apartment, and haven't had one for a very long time. Television represents the whole mainstream reality to me, the world of people who don't know what I know, don't experience what I experience, and don't value what I value.) It's a place where you get a job, and you don't get laid off from your job over and over again, and the economic system is only having a termporary little glitch which will all get better very soon. Unemployment isn't a problem in that world. And even if unemployment DID exist there, it would be something that only happened to people in faraway cities, and the government would do something to fix it quickly, and it wouldn't affect you personally. There is no mind control and surveillance system, there are no stalkers and hackers, and we're all free to think our thoughts, feel our feelings, and say what we ourselves want to say.

My spirit, the world that I live in, is a world of darkness and slavery. I am not free to think my own thoughts. I cannot be myself. I can't feel my own feelings. I can't meditate or observe myself without being zapped or controlled or forced to daydream and see images and hear voices. And worst of all, I cannot connect with other people. You look someone in the eye, and they see into your cage, they see into the world that you live in, and it matters to them, and they understand how important it is, how much it matters to be free and to be yourself.

I want to remember that my life matters and my freedom matters and that I have to do something about it. I want to break out of the learned helplessness that the murderers have trained me to feel. They have tortured me constantly, every day, so that I can no longer even TRY to fight back.

And I have so many things that I need to do, but they are terrible things that are almost impossible, like going through all my contaminated belongings and choosing which things to throw away, and which things to keep and try to clean off. I also need to make the refrigerator useable again, because ever since I put the container in it when I cooked the soup bones, the refrigerator has been filled with a vapor, and the housecleaner guy tried to help me clean it out, but it's not gone, and I recently cleaned it out again and I have the door open to air it out, but it's still not safe. Whenever I have an open bottle of water anywhere in this house, not only in the fridge, but in the bedroom or anywhere, the molecules land in it and contaminate the water, and if I drink the water, I get bone poisoning again. It makes me feel like I'm going to throw up a couple seconds after I swallow it, and it feels exactly like it did when I ate the bone marrow, except milder. So I have to drink tap water, and I can't keep any food in the fridge, and I can't keep any open bottles of anything in here. And it's unimaginable to anyone who hasn't experienced this. So I can't eat healthy food - I have to eat nothing but restaurant food. I can't keep, for instance, a bag of leafy greens in the fridge, or something, and I am really craving leafy greens, and I'm sick of eating cooked food and processed food and fast food and restaurant food.

The drug residues have to be gotten rid of. They give me severe mood swings. They also make me controllable: when I'm on drugs, I do the things that the murderers tell me to do. I obey the urges they give me. When they wake me up from sleep and give me the idea of trying to send text messages to this guy, I do it. When I'm off the drugs, it's much harder for them to make me do things.

The happy world can't imagine any of this. Mine is a different universe than the one they live in. If I had someone supporting me, someone with more life, more hope, more energy, I'd get enough spirit to do the things I need to do. That person would have to see the world that I live in, and ask me the reasons why I do all the strange things I do, and why I believe all the strange things I believe. Sometimes, if you ask 'why,' it makes you remember things you've forgotten. Sometimes you remember that there might be another, better way of doing things, a different way. Sometimes you remember that the original reason is gone, and you no longer need to do the things you're doing.

I know some of this because I had a best friend for eleven years, when I was in middle school and high school, and during some of college, before we split apart. She was probably a Myers-Briggs ENFP. She was interested in abstract ideas and symbolism. And she was someone who believed me if I told her something: she had faith that I was telling the truth and that my observations were correct. Most people hear the things that I say, and they immediately assume that all of it is a big delusion. Or they might slightly believe me, somewhat, but they don't understand how important it is. They don't see that my life is worth saving. They don't see that my future still has potential, even though I am trapped right now and unable to accomplish any goals. Back then, when she was my best friend, she understood that I had potential, that my life was important, that my observations were correct. She could see me the way I see myself.

When she found her husband, she said that he understood her even better than I did. I met him once. He talked really fast, a high-speed babble that I could barely understand, the same way she does - she was also very fast. I am medium-slow speed, average speed. He is also abstract-minded, another Myers-Briggs intuitive like she is. After they got together, they developed a delusional world where everybody except them is an evil monster behind a human mask. They decided that I, too, was one of the evil monsters in a mask. This is very close to a literal description of what they believe. They think that people are all mindless, evil, soulless robots. Or at least, that's what they believed a few years ago, the last time I talked to her on the phone. She had these paranoid ideas that I was going to try to be her friend again and drain the life out of her and corrupt her with my evil belief system. She kept asking, 'Why did you call me? What's your REAL reason?' as though there was some evil, sinister motive behind everything I was doing. She disconnected from all of her family and wouldn't give them her addresses or phone numbers (although I can kind of understand that, because her grandmother who she lived with was abusive, constantly nagging and criticising and making fun of her in cruel ways, and her mother was like that too).

But even so, with all that, I still remember how it felt when we were friends. Because of that, I know that friendship really exists. I know it's possible for someone to look at me and see me the way I see myself, to know that my life is important.

So, what's happened with this guy recently? Well, I sent him a few text messages, and he says he didn't get them - I already mentioned that up above. So I gave him a note where I wrote some of the things on paper that I had tried to get to him in the text messages.

Where I left off, a couple blogs ago, he and I saw each other at work, he asked me if I had a note for him, and I said, 'No - you told me not to!' and he walked away ('looking even more anxious'). The next time he saw me, he looked depressed. He walked past me without looking at me, and I called his name to make him turn around and come back. He was reluctant, but he turned around and dragged himself back to talk to me. He was not at all happy.

The last time I'd seen him, I had been recovering from the 'crying and screaming all afternoon' incident, and I was avoiding eye contact with him and acting very sad. I know, at least, that he sees me as a 'temporary workplace friend.' It doesn't go outside the workplace, and it doesn't last forever, but it is a friendship, at least a little bit, and he was miserable because this friendship had 'broken up' and been hurt badly by a misunderstanding. He didn't want to hurt me.

So I asked him a couple questions - 'Did you get my message?' 'No.' 'Okay, don't worry about it. Are you leaving?' (He had looked like he was walking away whenever I called to him.) 'No - lunch.' So I let him go. But I could tell that he was slightly perked up just because I had spoken to him instead of ignoring him. The feeling became more relaxed immediately. Later on, I gave him an envelope full of several notes. Each time I've given him my 'love letters' there have been more and more of them packed into a single envelope. I started writing them as I became convinced that he wasn't getting my messages.

When I handed him the envelope I said, 'It isn't your fault - what's been happening with the text messages. It happens to me ALL THE TIME.' I asked him how he was feeling - he was having a toothache because of a broken tooth that had been there for a while and had started hurting again recently. I got worried about that because I remembered reading in my Weston Price book that in the parts of the world - I know this is dumb to worry about, but in the parts of the world where they started trading with the primitive tribes, and they gave them white flour and sugar and other modern foods, it ruined their teeth, but they were in such isolated places that they didn't have any dentists to help them with their cavities, so their teeth were all exposed to the pain constantly, and, it said, that toothache was the only major cause of suicide in those parts of the world. So I started thinking 'toothache, suicide' and worrying about him, wondering if the pain was unbearable. It's actually kind of funny, I know, but not really - I was sincerely worried about him.

I sometimes get voices in my head telling me that so-and-so is suicidal and I need to rescue them right now. Sometimes, that's actually one of their symbolic 'jokes,' because I had written in a blog that 'suicide' was 'the s-word,' but I also was talking with the voices and we said 'the s-word' is the word 'sex,' and that I had to use 'the s-word' to describe what type of relationship I wanted to have with this guy. So whenever they tell me that somebody is 'suicidal' it can also mean that they are feeling sexual or having sex, or something like that. That's the way they think. Everything has a secret double meaning. They are all very specific and unique, these little secret symbols.

In the Myers-Briggs intuitives, they use symbols. In the sensors, they use 'signals', not symbols. That was in David Keirsey's book, I think it was the second book, Please Understand Me II. There was a chart showing the way that they use language. I understand it whenever people give me 'signals,' and I prefer to receive signals instead of symbols. I can't talk about this yet, but this guy and I had a little inside joke where he would do something that sometimes made me laugh, and when he did that it would prompt me to touch him. I had said I only touched him a few times, though. It was like a signal, something only I could understand.

I have to describe something about this guy. He smells like pheromones. I learned about pheromones a long time ago, and as a chemical-sensitive person I know that pheromones really exist. Very small quantities of hormones can affect people. They vaporize out of your skin and your sweat into the air. Maybe you even breathe them out of your lungs, I don't know. When I'm standing next to Peter if his blood sugar is crashing, I inhale secondhand adrenaline (or it might also be insulin, sweating out through his skin and vaporizing), and I feel my stomach clench to get ready to vomit, and my bowels move - losing control of your bowels is something that can happen if you have severe low blood sugar from insulin poisoning. I start shaking and trembling with adrenaline, and I know it's not my own. It happens if I walk in the door and haven't even seen him yet - all I have to do is open the door, step inside, breathe the air, and I immediately feel a sensation of fear and dread because of all the adrenaline in the air. Then I'll walk over and find him standing there staring into space looking scared and not answering when I talk to him, and I know he's crashing. So I know all about breathing the vapors around a person, and getting secondhand hormones and drugs from them. I don't know if they'd really be called pheromones, but vaporized hormones are similar enough.

So whatever it is in the air around this guy, I like it. Maybe he's using synthetic human pheromone perfume, or maybe it's just him. Maybe he's on some of the drugs that affect the way you smell. Maybe he used the perfume a long time ago and it's still contaminating his clothing - since I've had so much experience with contamination, I know that's possible. I've never bought that perfume to find out if it works, but I've read about it. You might think that being contaminated with pheromones would be a wonderful thing, but actually, the pheromones would affect you yourself just as much as they affected everyone around you. I'm not buying any, but I assume that it is a severe contamination risk, based on my past experiences with contamination. I'm guessing that if somebody contaminated themselves with sex pheromones, they would want to have sex constantly, all day long, and it would be a nuisance.

So, later on that day, I walked up to say something to him. I was just chatting about something that had happened a few minutes before - it wasn't important. His voice was softer and lower than usual. Standing next to him, I got the pheromones feeling again, and my body got a message like 'yes yes here now right now', like we were going to have sex right then and there at work. It actually seemed REAL, like it was going to happen, right at that moment. My response feeling was 'I'm not ready!!!!' I panicked and walked away from him.

That's usually what I feel whenever I stand close to him - intense excitement - and sometimes I panic and I leave quickly. It's always triggered by some small thing, like when I notice that he's a couple inches taller than I am, or I hear the sound of his voice. Sometimes I don't leave, I stay there, but I can't hear a word he's saying anymore and can't understand anything with my brain. It's worst if I'm in a small enclosed space with him.

So, for a few minutes after that, I was all wound up and excited and restless and couldn't calm down. It's not easy to do my job when I feel that way. He seems much more important than doing my job. This is why I have tried to get him to see me AWAY from work, so that I don't have to worry about that.

I can compare the way he makes me feel, to the way some other people make me feel. I have occasional incidents with men, sometimes at work, sometimes in other situations, where a man tries to be sexual with me, but I feel disgusted (for whatever reason) and I don't want to. He gave me a similar feeling, except with him, it was a good feeling, not a bad one. It makes me feel sick and violated and dirty, but in a good way. (If you can find a way to explain that any better, feel free!)

The feelings are so intense that it's very unusual, which is why I'm theorizing about what could be causing it, and wondering about pheromone perfumes. There are also drugs that act like aphrodisiacs, making people much more sexual than usual - it used to happen to me sometimes with St. John's Wort, but not always: SJW is variable, depending on the conditions that the plant was grown in, and the particular 'breed' of the plant. SJW produces a wide variety of slightly different drugs with slightly different effects. It's also affected by how old the drug is, how oxidized it is, and so on. But something in there was an aphrodisiac. When I'm on SJW, everybody around me is affected by it as much as I am. Everybody is nicer to me. They also see that I have a permanent smile on my face, and everybody is nicer to you if you have a permanent smile on your face. It makes my eyes twinkle and I look young and lively and pretty. When I'm off the drug, I frown and look depressed, weary, sad, sick, tired, and lifeless. I'm much less approachable. And I think that I don't smell as good.

Actually, I've had that problem a couple times in the last few days. Setting up my computer, using it, and getting exposed to the old SJW residue on it and around it, made me have the permanent smile on my face at work the other day. It affected EVERYONE. It caused me to make frequent eye contact with everyone, all my co-workers, and to have random conversations about anything at all. It affected how this guy behaved - he trusted me again and was friendlier than usual to me. I worry when that happens, because it won't last - it's temporary - I always wish I could explain to people that I'm only having a drug-induced mood swing, and this isn't the real me, and my goal is to clean up the drug residues so that they won't affect me anymore, so eventually I will go to the 'depressed me' instead of the 'drugged and friendly me', and people will have to love me for who I am when I'm not on drugs anymore. (It's also caused me to write very long, detailed blogs like this one.)

On the downside, the drug sometimes makes me feel like I don't need anyone - I don't need relationships - I'm fine alone. I can do my projects and activities, and not need any friendship, because the drug makes me feel fake-happy and I have no desire for people. But when I'm off the drug, I feel a need to love and be loved, to be close to people - I feel a NEED for people and love again. And, off the drug, I'm less pleasant and likeable, and I need people really badly, but they don't like me very much. So it's harder to get what I need. I have less courage, and can't approach people or start a conversation very easily. I also find people to be less tolerable - if there's something I dislike about them, I'm more aware of those negative feelings when I'm off the drug. So everyone looks ugly to me when I'm off the drug. I'm very, very picky about which people I think are beautiful and pleasant to look at. When I'm ON the drugs, everybody is beautiful and I'm not picky anymore. (And yes, obviously I like the way this guy looks, all the time, when I'm off drugs or on them.)

The next time I worked with him, I tried to make an arrangement for him to call me on the phone. But he has been working a lot, and then spending the rest of his time with his girlfriend, and sleeping. I'm not sure, but I think he's living at his girlfriend's house, and I haven't had a chance to ask him yet. I know how it is to work a lot and not get any time off - that's why I set up my work schedule to be the way it is: I only work four days a week, at both jobs, four very long days, and then I have three days off in a row. Having several days off in a row is crucial for me to feel well rested and to have time to get things done, or go on a trip out of town, or whatever. So he explained that there really wasn't a good time when he would be able to talk to me on the phone. He had tears in his eyes when he said it to me, when he explained that it probably wasn't going to happen - I know that he doesn't want to hurt me, but he can't promise anything to me, and he can't say yes to me. We made a plan for him to call me on his day off, but he said he might not be able to, if he was still asleep. And no, I didn't get a call.

He can't say yes to me, and he can't say no. He doesn't want to hurt me. Like I said above, he was NOT at all happy whenever I got hurt and I wouldn't look at him all day. When I handed him my most recent envelope full of notes, I said again that I didn't HAVE to give him notes, and if it bothered him, I could stop doing it. He said, 'I'm fine,' in a stiff abrupt way. I didn't understand. I said, 'You mean that it's okay for me to give them to you?' or something like that, and he said it was okay. I felt like he was lying, or not telling the whole truth, or hiding something from me, and it had to do with not wanting to hurt me, and I'm guessing it's also because he has conflicting feelings, because he may be attracted to me but can't promise anything since he is already with his girlfriend and he has a busy life and no free time. I know he doesn't want to cause another incident of me getting hurt and not speaking to him all day long. So he won't tell me 'no' in quite that way again. But he can't really do anything to say 'yes' either. If he wanted to be with me at all, he still wouldn't want to risk ruining his other relationship. He can just receive notes if I give them to him, and he can't do much more than that.

When I go home, I try to control my own brain again. I try to make myself believe all of the things that I need to believe, in order to make a decision and take action. I try to remember that this is futile and hopeless, that it will never happen. (They zapped me right now while I was writing this, to prevent me from telling the truth - it made me forget everything that I was about to write. I forgot the whole 'feeling' of the idea, the way it feels to believe this.) I try to remember that he has another girlfriend and a happy life and he doesn't need me and my darkness. I try to remember that it's sexual harassment, or just harassment in general, or stalking, if you keep giving love notes to somebody who doesn't want to keep getting notes from you, someone who tries to say 'no,' someone who doesn't initiate any contact with you. I try to remember that he is a 'temporary workplace friend' instead of a 'long-term romantic friend.' I try to remember all of my foresight about what would happen if he and I were in a serious relationship or if we got married. I try to remember all of the times when unattractive men tried to get me to go out with them, and how they always thought that they had a chance with me, because I was being 'nice' to them, just to be nice, because I don't want to be mean and I don't want to hurt them. I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of somebody asking you out over and over and you don't want to hurt their feelings, and you're still trying to be nice to them.

I try to remember all of that, to make the decision to leave him alone, to stop trying to send text messages, to stop writing love letters, to stop asking him to call me on the phone or go meet me somewhere away from work. I did actually give him something important in one of my latest letters - I gave him my physical address and my parents' address, the same way that they forced me to do when they were forcing me to write letters to Martin - and this is because if, someday, he remembers me, for whatever reason, in the distant future, and wants to come back and find me, because for whatever reason, he needs something that only I can give, or needs to talk about things that I know about, he will be able to find me again after our separation, and the door will be open to him. They did that with Martin and they've done it again with this guy, offering that my door will be open to him in the future if he needs me. They have this belief that someday in the future, they'll think of Nicole because they need to talk about things that only Nicole can talk about. Or that I'm going to be somebody big and famous and important and wealthy, some kind of celebrity, and they'll see me in the news and they'll want to contact me again. Those are the beliefs that they put into my head.

So since he has the address now, I can supposedly quit trying to contact him, and give up. There's no way to reach him by phone or by text message. And I can't look him up online - I'm not 'allowed' to search for his name online, to find any web pages he might have, and I'm not allowed to write on those web pages or communicate with him over the computer. And it would be bad if I did, because it would be another cyber-relationship instead of a real world relationship. Then the hackers would get involved even more than they are now.

So even though I supposedly can quit writing love notes to him, now that he has the address, they are still urging me to write more notes. This time, my job is to boost his ego. I can give up on attempting to persuade him to call me or contact me - he won't. But now my job is to tell him how wonderful I think he is, how attractive I think he is, and to tell him all the things that I like about him - that's what they want me to do in the love letters from now on. So they haven't stopped trying to force me to write to him. I'm supposed to just write nice things to him, but not actually have any real-world contact with him except at work. I don't know if they'll succeed in making me write a letter or not. If I don't write one, they will be nagging me constantly about how he 'wants' to receive these letters from me, and how disappointed he is that he didn't get one, and how he can't tell me that he likes getting the letters. That is what they will make me believe. I don't know how long it will be before I write another one.

So that's where we stand right now...