You could always talk to yourself!
But after long enough, someone will start answering and you'll need medication to shut them up, and then you'll be lonely again.
But at least you wont be overcome with the urge to kill anyone anymore!
is this a projection
is there something we need to talk about, sol?
I've written three or four long answers to this question and the best answer I have is that while that was written in jest, yes it was taken directly from personal experience.
Anyways feel free to text me when its real nigga hours and it seems like there ain't no real niggas no more.
just tell me your whole mysterious backstory right here right now
I don't feel like texting
I'm basically the king of being in denial.
So I had already blown two guys by the time I was in seventh grade and I still refused to believe I might be gay.
This led to all kinds of emotional turmoil, paired with an absent father and a mother who was known to smack me with wooden spoons until they broke.
I started talking to myself at an early age, and somewhere in my head someone said something back, eventually several somebodies, and soon they started arguing with each other.
It didn't help that I had zero social skills and couldn't handle criticism. So I didn't have a lot of friends.
But I lived with it.
When I was thirteen I started venting on b.net, and I learned a thing or two about talking to people.
By high school I was a social butterfly, and I finally felt resolution, and belonging irl.
But in the back of my mind I was still in denial, and even though I was 120 lbs and effeminate I wasn't comfortable in my body, so I used my newfound social prowess to get into drugs and alcohol.
You would think those were what destabilized me to the point I became a defiant rebel child that my parents would glamour to disown, but what really did it was knowledge.
Sophomore year I was studying civil disobedience and learning to stand by my beliefs in the face of great adversity, and I exercised it in my daily life.
Even the slightest loss of control of me, combined with my mother's rampant alcoholism, led her to kick.me out at sixteen.
I took to smuggling drugs to survive.
It was a stressful life in which I felt like nobody was there for me, nobody loved me.
I went to a mental institute for the first time in October of 2013.
I came out medicated, but not cured of the voices, or my denial, merely less depressed, and less stressed.
At 17 I went to live with my father.
He was as absent while I lived with him as he had been all those years before.
Somewhere around here my homicidal desires began.
He blamed.me for our estrangement, and wrote me out of his will,and then kicked me out after I turned 18, by the manipulations of his new wife, who envisioned a future for them that did not involve my sister or I.
So I was homeless again.
It just so happened the my mother was as well, as she was amidst her fourth divorce, so I got an apartment and let her stay with me.
She stole everything I owned and crashed my career down on my head and ruined my new life, losing me my home yet again, and then vanished.
I wandered about a vagrant until I was arrested for sleeping in the park, all the while my mental condition worsened.
Now was hearing voices and experiencing visions, and crying out for help in my sleep, waking up in strange places with no memory of how I got there (no drugs involved).
When I got out of jail she told me she would take me to the hospital for treatment, and she lorded over me how I had fallen so far as to find myself in jail.
The next day I had to bail her out, which silenced her criticism.
So I went to the hospital, and I children running around the psyche ward, and felt one crawling over top of me as I slept.
I asked the nurse if there were any children on our floor, and she told me no.
It dawned on me that I really was crazy.
The medications quelled my sleeptalking/walking, and helped me out of my sexual denial, and the visions subsided.
My homicidal anger dissipated.
But the voices are vigilant, and they still bicker in my head.
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