7/17/26 3:33am The Prisoner's Journal
Welcome!
This is the Journal of someone that has went through... alot... to the point where if I share my story it is often associated with something similar to the Count Of Monte Cristo...
A good man went it... and a criminal came out...
I have deleted and burned my old journal I had one before and was using it to brain dump everything out there... I used tumblr as my safe place to say the things I have to choke back as to not let my anger get the best of me...
Before I realized... I let too much personal information out and... someone struck a nerve... they stabbed in the right part of me... As I was trying to not be delusional... thinking that a woman I started developing emotions for and normally I never develop emotional saftey to show that vulnrable side to me... and... well... she worked at one of childhood safeplaces... the only place I would cry in silence with my hoodie up and shades on... nobody knew that was the only place I would cry at... well I never told anyone...
and after you know... living through alot... when someone tries to gash you from your neck and you see people going at it well...
...
that shit changes you... it reminds you about the laws of nature and how society has dressed it up and became softer than pillow shit... while many people became what me and my friends call NPC's (people that are just missereable to be around or just bad energy we tell them to block us or ragebait them into doing it... so its alwayf unny when they hear the story on another end as they were there when I told them to just block me... its a reoccuring pattern that I do... and it just makes it funny and they make a funny situation into something different...
I originally was sentence to 22years and 2 lifetime sentences... yes 2 of them... for loosing a self defense case... (I mean more of a bad joke case)
my old co-workers didn't realize how I suffered from cptsd and of course you know guys being guys trying to asssert dominance and stuff in a social setting just fucked with the wrong guy that had to survive my mothers boyfriends trying to kill me... but they failed... and each time I got a new scar...
a new story to say "I don't want to talk about it" when someones curiosity is peaked...
and so my nervous system is shoked... and I keep having this dream...
its a dream of a woamn...
and everytime I'm in this dream I am like that of Anubis... a dog... a weary dog... that still stands and carries my weight with purpose...
always thinking... always moving... always calculating...
and in real life... I have given up on the hope and concept of love and soulmates and even told others... and they would just keep hitting me with that same stupid fucking question... "Why are you single?"
and to the honest response is:
Power is my only mistress... and I understand that I am delusional in thinking that there would be just one woman... one woman out there for me with hair red like a scarlet crimson... eyes that blaze with emerald greed that I wish to consume... with lips intoxicated with a black rose in which I will loose myself into the intoxication of her... the scent... being that of dragon's blood, lavander, egyptian musk, and a hint of peppermint...
She first appeared in my dreams while I was in prison... strangely enough on the blood moon...
Nov 19, 2021 3:33am It was another aniverssary...
It was the aniversarry of another day I didn't die after looking down the barrel of an officers gun... looking straight down the barrel... reminding me of the perdicament I am in...
none of my friends belived that cops were rascist... they never seen it... until they saw me pinned down on the ground.... and be called a n*gger
They joined in... they helped... and I lived because of them...
and... this journey has been quite a ride...
and in that dream... piercing thee viel... I saw her...
hair like scarlet and crimson... her soft caressing nature... settled my nerves... and the weight of her body... resting upon me... I opened up... I exposed myself... and she opened up through my ribs... and touched my black heart... encrusted in black blood as it has dried up... and she bites down on it... and I begin to gush blood... I feel... a euphoria a rapture of being devoured... and I in return... wanted to devour her...
I pretend... its her that I am with... when I close my eyes with another woman... (trying to not be a delusional fuck and just try to accept reality that the woman of my dreams will never exist... I saw a fragment of her in someone I tried to stay away from... she was... someone I never thought I would open up to...
I at the time... never thougth I would share any of my writings with anyone... but I felt safe enough on tumbllr to make my journal anonymous and she'd be the only person that would know...
I wanted to tell her of my dark past... my trials and tribulations... as I have told none thusfar... and... as of recently... on 7/13/26 is when I had my first... episode... too many memories... too miuch pain...
and now... well... my coworkers... most of them can't look at me in my eyes... their eyes just well up in tears... and I can't tell if its from the sadness of my story or genuine fear...
I have some mentors that help me make new coping mechanisms... and I will refraim from using names this time and just use codenames...
but... although they tell me I can tell theem anything... I just tell them the things that would make progress... or for performance...
I don't tell them the ache in my heart... the weariness that weighs heavy in the marrow of my bones... this... this blog... well its a secret I will never trust anyone one to tell not a single soul...
but it made me feel heard... it made me feel safe... as I don't know how to relax.... I don't know how to let go of the weight I hold... I don't know... (there's only one actual way but its not like I can tell a woman like "hey in order for me to calm down my hypervigilance and cptsd as a touch deprived AuDhD so I can regulate my fucked up nervous system wanna just cuddle naked under a blanket burrito and watch some netflix and just eat food and fall asleep" )
no it doesnt work that way and I would sound like a fucking psycho... and then when I have finnaly met a woman I was starting to actually...
*gulp* dare I say develop feelings and a sense of vulnerability from my writings... (I feel so fucking stupid for even trying to feed her again as she has done for me... I feel so fucking stupid that I just didnt start out with asking if she ate and if she wants food... I feel so fucking stupid that I was getting my money first and then was treated like a n*gger when I finnaly got it out of my thoat... do you want some grubhub?) but... was ignored in that regard and nobody listened to me again... I hate it when nobody listens to me... pushing a false narrative that doesn't exist... never saying the whole truth of things... and thus complicating them...
I swear... for a brief moment... she looked like the woman in my dreams... with the red hair and green eyes... the dripping of the foam going back into the cup... looking back into my eyes... iff she had black lipstick... and black french tips... i would not have been able to resist...
I was tempted to tease her back for teasing me... and suck the foam out of her mouth leaving nothing to waste... I would have remembered exactly the day I resisted temptation... but... I have burned away my old journals... and thus... started a new journey... a new chapter of this ecursed life...
I was such a fool... for thinking one such as she could accept a freak like me... on a short leash like a mad dog... and muzzled... enchained... and unwillingly restrained... but now I restrain myself... it makes me feel comfortable now...
I think I started to become addicted when i heard her laughter... it was the sound I wanted to hear again and again... I wanted to see that smile on her face again... the upbeat pip in her step... the cute little footstomp... and fix her bratty behavior... I would have done her nails myself... to have black french tips... and the tips of my fingers black stained from me being unable to help myself from her intoxicationg corruption... I thought... naively... that she was somewhat fucked up like me...
I thought she'd understand how I am with BP1... but maybe... the mania created an illusion for me... a false hope... to merely thing that I... could ever have my mistress Power here in the real life... and so I tried to accept reality... and bury myself in other women... just to imagine it was her... and be discusted that it wasn't... that the sounds wern't the same... the weight wasn't right... and my sarcasm can't be caught from just mere words on text as it lacks the venom that oozes from my lips like a coiled serpent ready to strike down a mighty foe...
and when i learned her day was my favorite holiday... I started to have more and more woo woo like shit happen... my coping mechinisms kept breaking on me... (I am a destroyer and tend to destroy things without wanting too out of fustration... but I want to build and create things)
I normally just use monkeytype zen writing... but after having my last journal up... it felt better... Idk? feeling heard I guess...
but I was still missunderstood... and now that I kknow that some of my destructive behavior comes from my tramas and survival mechanisms i am still a work in progress... but... still on route to finish up n get my doctorate...
"Tempus Fugit, Memento Mori Vivere"
