Sorry to whine. I'm having rather a lonely day. I have no actual friends and I need one so much. I just feel so very alone. I keep myself hidden behind a facade, but eventually the pain pushes my true, horrible, reject self to the surface. I will regret speaking of it, I always do. But at the moment, I must speak.
All of my foul, accursed life I have had psychic experiences. Even as a young child I dreamed of other lives--horrible lives. Lives wherein there were bodies lying about, bloated, with flies crawling out of them. I have always hated flies. I hate insects. There is no logical reason for this except that I dreamed of them when I was very small. I saw the ghosts of the little animals who died when I was a child. I communed with them. I could feel the pain of living things including other people. Foul human race, so devoid of compassion! I could also feel the hate and apathy of the majority of people. They think themselves so much superior to others, especially to those like me who feel even though sometimes I just don't want to feel or know or see any more. I just want it to all go away.
As I grew older I realized that this ability extended to the ability of feeling the emotions of those who no longer have a body. I would talk to these spirits. I thought that I would find a community of understanding souls among other mediums. But it was not to be. Even other psychics tend to belittle the experiences I have had. I have been told by some that it is not the true soul that I am accessing, but only the shell. I have been told by others that I am contacting demons and need to take steps to rid myself of them. I sense emotions through pictures, which is usually how I make the first contact. Most of these spirits wish nothing of me. They only wish to say hello and acknowledge that yes, I have contacted them. But my doubts have made it so I have not even the ability to do that any more. I never had living people care about me much. Now I do not have even the spirits. This is what I get for reaching out to others!
Those among the rational set claim that these experiences are only an extension of my mental condition. Yes, I have a mood disorder, but my ability to sense the emotions of others (including the departed) is outside of that. Not everyone with a mental illness is psychotic. I just get so tired of being told that I'm wrong about everything.
I should like to go and be among the ghosts. They seem to be the only ones that ever understood at all.
I hurt, really, really badly. I do not want to be told I'm wrong for hurting. I do not want to be told I'm wrong for feeling. I do not want to be yelled at and belittled for not trusting, for fearing that I am being fucked over yet one more time, as it has happened so often. Has nobody any compassion? Can nobody extend a hand of friendship to one who is very different, yet is the same in the sense that they only wish a friend who could understand and not belittle them.
I am so very sorry for what I am. Sorry I was born into the wrong world. Sorry I exist at all. I am sorry that I hurt and that I feel and that I sense what I sense and experience what I experience. I am sorry that I am not really a Barbie doll. I am sorry that my experiences don't jibe with what is generally taught regarding parapsychology. Fuck all, I'm just plain sorry. About every bit of it. About everything.
I suppose it is my fate to go through life friendless. I keep telling myself I best just get used to it. But somehow I never do.
