no relational safety for a schizophrenic, and being tortured constantly, is a recipe for loops of insanity which are inescapable
please help me
The Penrose
Iris
Withered—wrecked—turned a speck, I took a fleck into my neck.
I was lost then.
She had me and took me then stole it—my heart was taken.
They weren’t a good person to me, but I needed it. They were the best person to me, and I needed that too.
I’ll call her the crow.
The crow was a thing of beauty most profound to me. She wasn’t who she was, but she was showing me always. Every moment spent beside her was of the most beautiful longing. All I wanted was for the crow to open up to it.
Imposition was the notion of our relationship. Inconvenience had been the truth of its feelings. Illicitness was the flavor of the pleasure.
She was so much younger than me—she had lied to attract people like me.
I was being honest the whole time as best I could, but the crow was making it impossible to not lie in some way for how mixed up she was. She wasn’t a smart person in most ways relating to anything human. But her heart was the brightest thing I had ever felt.
The crow shined it so brightly around me. It was infectious how she tried to keep it from bubbling over. Once, this one time, I made her laugh and she ran out of the room. She bolted.
That was the energy which I couldn’t help but get skull fucked by the whole time. She was so in love with me it hurt. Then, I don’t know. I kind of forget. How long ago was that?
I’m time-bad sometimes. It’s not always good.
I think that was a few years ago almost. I am such an obsessive freak. Everything about me is stuck on thinking about the crow every day. Most of the day I find myself talking to her. It made me sick the way she let me in so closely and then never let me give her a hug goodbye.
I had fallen in love with her like I’ll never love a person again. It was genuinely, earnestly, my first romantic love which actually served my heart. It wasn’t even supposed to be there, that was a part of her manipulations. I wasn’t allowed to love her. The way it came out though, made me understand she knew it was just about communicating that; her crowness actually told me to just not say the words.
So, I never did. Never once. But I told her about the meaning of love a lot. I told the crow how she was making me feel that a lot.
She took me on a trip where she was just raping me before she gutted me out of her life for greener pastures. I presume, at least. She never talked to me, not really, not once after forgiving me for telling her I had broken her boundary of emotional attachment and needed to make an adjustment so we could be the friends beyond sex we had talked about evolving into from the beginning.
The crow needed space though, or something. She never talked to me. Even though she had taken me in as a friend during my transition, while living with an abusive ex she hated by mention and was teaching me to stand up to.
I got really abused seeking safe relationships in the depression the crow left me in.
She killed me over with the way she left me in silence with lies. The crow needed space.
I really wanted a hug. I had been really brave to be honest with her and try to save our friendship, but she had not understood. That made me go kind of crazy, explaining it to myself in my head like it was her. I was doing that all the time from when she needed space onward.
Patience was given. I was just honest a few times about how the space she was taking had made me really sad, and that I missed her and was thinking of her, and would love to give her a hug and talk. Eventually I snapped, because my depression was getting so bad, and I accused her of not wanting to actually be my friend.
She seemed to be just wanting me for my HBO password at that point. She had been watching a show we talked about watching together on my account, and I could only assume next to her other friends while I was getting more and more depressed just waiting to talk to my friend.
The crow never talked to me after I waited through months of silence, not once. She just told me I had ruined everything by being a manipulative person with bad intentions the whole time.
I was offended and told her I would see her in the next life.
In retrospect, I did not mean that at all. It was probably a reaction to the stream of messages from the drunk I had found myself getting manipulated into the saddest relationship which was ongoing at the same time. I liked them better, at the time, because they could at least talk to me after I expressed feelings.
It didn’t matter though. I know healing—or, at least, I did. I thought I did.
My daughter got taken from me ultimately. It was mostly because of the restraining order the crow put on me for reaching out to them and predominately asking them for help. But also, often, accusing them of being a devil person who was likely a giant transphobic lying asshole for doing this to me.
In retrospect, I was a most damaged and abused person, disabled from before the start of that relationship, whom was being tortured in silence as every other relationship in my life crumbled because of the consuming depression they left me in.
