Soul crushing grief

5:43 PM 9/14/10

I just have to get through the next couple weeks and then I'll be okay. I requested a reduction of my hours at Weis. I fell off the wagon again! I had stopped drinking coffee for several weeks and was doing okay. But the 70 hour work weeks, and the increasing darkness of winter, and Curtis finally leaving just as I always said he would, made it so I was crying through the first few hours of work. I also have a theory that drinking the raw cow's milk had something to do with making me cry. It was several factors all at once. So I started drinking coffee just to stop crying and make myself able to work.

I have had bad fatigue attacks and drug residue outbreaks the last week or so too. The drug residues gave me courage to do some crazy behavior, such as offering Curtis's ex-girlfriend the money for her child support. I wouldn't have done that without the drug residues, but according to mainstream society, drug residues don't exist; therefore they are one of the most important areas of knowledge and experience that people will be taught when they join the order.

Anyway, I know I will be too tired to get up in the morning, so I went out and bought some Vivarin. I haven't had Vivarin in years, ever since the ephedra incident in 2007. I don't eat the whole pill. I shatter it and crumble it into tiny, tiny pieces, and then I eat only one tiny fragment of it. I will need to do this every morning to get myself to work every day for the next couple weeks until the schedule change sets in.

I won't be able to make it. There is nothing to look forward to at work. We have a new boss who is causing total chaos in the department. Not only that, but our old boss left, and everyone liked him, and he made the work environment much more pleasant and enjoyable. So that's adding to the difficulty of going to work every day.

And Curtis isn't there now, and he's the only thing I looked forward to every day. I begged him and I warned him, since the beginning, last summer, in 2009, when we first met - I told him from the beginning, 'Someday, you're going to leave, and when you do, I'm going to be a basket case, and I'm going to do crazy stuff like writing emails to your ex-girlfriends.' And he didn't heed my warnings. I told him, 'You have to give me some way to stay in touch with you in the real world, because all of our emails will get deleted and intercepted.' He didn't believe me. But my phone calls, texts, and emails are indeed all being deleted (and only some of them get through - the bad ones, not the good ones), and I've verified this several times with different people who insist that they really did call me and it never got through, and that kind of thing. It's real. I wrote these messages on paper, but I think he has a reading disability, and so he didn't really understand what I said. Not only that, but he's a victim and a puppet like everyone else, so they would blank out his brain while he was trying to read.

Getting paid to date people: I want to write about this and think about it some more. I must wait until the schedule changes, because I've been so busy, I can't even EMAIL anybody. And I swore I was going to get a new phone with an internet connection, but I was so exhausted all day that all I could do was sleep, so I didn't get the phone today or yesterday. That is why I've bought the Vivarin. I will not be able to get to work, and I'm going to be calling off sick just because of exhaustion. I will be taking Vivarin crumbles to help me survive for a couple weeks.

In fact, I'm doubting that I'll be able to get to work tomorrow morning, with the way I feel. I said I would talk to Scott about my schedule, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It required more energy and mental focus than I had. I had to think of what I was asking for, and summon up the courage to do it. This is desperation. I really won't be able to show up for work.

And the murderers played a little oversleeping trick on me the other day. Usually, they wake me up an hour before my alarm, or several hours. Or they put me to sleep and then wake me up right before the alarm goes off. But a few nights ago, they forced me to stay awake all night long, and then forced me to sleep through my alarm. Then they forced me to wake up at exactly 7:00 AM - the time when I was supposed to be *AT* work - and I had to call them and tell them I was going to be late for work. That's something they've never done to me before. They were 'proving a point' that they had probably forced Curtis to oversleep and lose his job. I already know that they're *able* to do that, but it doesn't necessarily mean that they *did* do it.

I was going to talk to Scott and change my schedule right away. That would take courage, desperation, and commitment to do what I was doing. I had to be sure, and I had to *feel* sure, that this was necessary and inevitable. It has become clear and obvious to me that I can't get up that early and go to work while working a second job and being at seventy hours a week (and suffering from seasonal affective disorder, and the soul-crushing grief of losing a beloved friend). I was going to try to negotiate some shift changes with the other couple people who are still there. We've lost almost everyone, and nobody is available to cover the shifts, and they have this irrational phobia of giving overtime to anyone for any reason no matter how few people we have. They would rather see empty shelves with nothing on them, because there aren't any employees there to produce the food, rather than pay people overtime to stay a few hours and make the food. We really have had empty shelves lately.

What will you do differently next time? I said on Facebook that my life was just like the movie Groundhog Day, except it was actually Patriot Day, September 11th. You wake up every morning and you have to convince everybody that a terrible disaster is about to happen, that you're going to be attacked, and you have to do something to prevent the disaster. And you have to fall in love before you go to sleep that night, and get them to love you in return. Or the next day, you wake up to 'I Got You Babe' on the clock radio again. That is my life.

What will I do differently next time? Next time the puppeteers bring me a beautiful, skinny young boy to fall in love with, and they force me to try writing letters to him instead of saying 'It's impossible, don't even try.'

Next time, I'll assume he's illiterate. Curtis probably really is illiterate for real. This isn't a joke. I seriously think he is unable to read. How am I going to give handwritten notes to an illiterate person? This is basic troubleshooting. When the appliance won't turn on, the troubleshooter's first step says, 'Is the unit plugged in?' So my first troubleshooting step will say, 'Is he able to read?' The person must be able to read if I am to give them handwritten notes. The handwritten notes won't be intercepted, but they cannot have a reading disability, and I'm fairly sure Curtis had a reading disability. He seemed to only catch a few words of things I had written, and didn't understand any of the rest of it.

People with reading disabilities need to have a shield around them to protect them against being attacked while trying to read. The murderers make everything worse. If you have any handicap or weakness at all, the murderers attacking you make your brain even *less* able to function.

And I don't have anything against people with reading disabilities. I just can't reach them right now. As soon as I'm strong enough, I'll be able to reach them. But right now, the only way I can communicate is by writing. So all the illiterate people will be falling through the cracks right now until I am strong enough to protect us while we talk out loud about taboo subjects. The murderers prevent me from speaking taboo subjects out loud, and it was even more difficult because we were at work and had limited time to spend talking.

Taboo subjects: They know what those subjects are, but I don't. It's a list of ideas and beliefs. Some of the beliefs are things like 'What I want matters.' It matters what I want. You have to *feel* that it matters what you want. Your soul, your desires, your needs, your values, your life - they matter. They're important. To actually *feel* that feeling is taboo. To feel it, to be motivated by it: it matters what I want, and I'm going to *do* something about it, *right now*. That's taboo.

Cameraderie is taboo. We're all in this together. You're not allowed to feel that feeling.

I don't know if I'll make it through this week. I might call off sick from Weis. I still have McDonald's, and I can increase my hours there. I still need to buy a phone! I haven't decided which phone and which plan to buy. I might make a fast impulse buy and just live with it whether I like it or not, and learn from the experience, instead of getting it perfect the first time. But I have been so tired, I couldn't even bring myself to get to Best Buy to get the phone. I can barely bring myself to get up and go to Barnes & Noble this evening.

My blog will have photos in it now, occasionally, as soon as I get my photo-phone. I can write about what I see. I already have a camera, but because of some technical difficulties, it's a pain in the ass to get photos from my camera moved over to my PC. It *can* be done, but I tend to postpone doing anything that's a pain in the ass to do, especially when I'm working 70 hours a week and suffering from fatigue attacks and soul-crushing grief.

Right now, in the time of grief, nobody matters to me except Curtis. I can't imagine that there is anyone else beautiful in the world worth looking at. I see attractive guys but they mean nothing to me. I really don't care about them. I am torn apart, being social and antisocial at the same time, trying to force myself to meet people, then pulling away and dropping everyone all at once, neglecting to send emails, failing to meet anyone - even some of the people who expressed an interest in the order of retmeishka.

In the order, we hand-deliver important messages on paper. We all agree to this. It is required by the order. We can email them too, if we want, but we will have a troubleshooting procedure to find out, 'Did you get my message?' and find out which messages said what. The messages are corrupted by disinformation. Failure to get there at all, or having words changed, or only some of the messages get there but not all of them, or the person who wrote the message was forced to write something that would be taken the wrong way. We can't protect the person writing the message just yet, but we will be able to, eventually. We can only make sure that the letter is delivered, by hand. That's the best we can do for now.

I'm going to B&N tonight, and I might possibly talk to someone who expressed an interest in the order. I don't know if he'll be there or not. Emailing him and talking on the phone with him is one of the hundred things that I dropped while juggling them over the last few weeks. I dropped everything and everyone.

I've thought a lot about incentives to join the order. I have devised money incentives, for instance. Ways we can provide insurance to each other, and get paid to be in the order. I want people to have a material gain by being in the group.

Oh yeah, by the way: Silver is back up at $20 an ounce again.