The Kebilsphere

Oh, how I wear my stigma, my stigmata, on my too tight skin, this canvas in which I am wrapped, abandoned by the artist before the first stroke of the brush. I am different and marked as such, marked and distinguishable by the colouring of invisible ink

These mental marks of distinction (degradation)(derision), this pragmatic emblem, this emblematic symbolism, this mark cut into my bone, I AM NOT ONE OF YOU. Step back, back away. I may have some evil alien infection that I could spread to the crowd with one careless cough.

These marks of my shame I hide from the outside world. And yet, these invisible marks shine through my skin in the very worst ways during my most awful days.

A crown of thorns that I wear underneath my cap. Nobody worries if they can’t see you bleed. How quickly we dismiss the pain that others feel deep in their hearts. How quickly we laugh off replies of “not good” to our “how are you doing?” If we know the only acceptable answer, why do we pretend to ask it as a question?

Minced meat,

mincing words,

break the news gently

breaking bread with myself

breaking my heart all over again

Man cannot live on bread alone

Man cannot live by himself, alone

Oh, how I wish I could just read my mind, if only I knew what I was thinking, maybe then I would be able to get the better of myself.

As it is, I just settle for whatever part of myself is available these days.

Well, here is how I see it. What we call Personality is the sum total of many formative processes. These have typically been described as being an intrinsic part of childhood. Once personality is formed in childhood, moulded in adolescence, and firmed up and cemented in early adulthood, it is essentially a completed entity, not subject to significant change. Of course, how a person behaves and reacts to the world can change later in life, but behaviour is not personality, although it is deeply influenced by it.

Having said this, I had a thought regarding my `Personality Disorder`, and why I have developed one while having a mostly great childhood. It is my contention that my formative years were mostly well balanced and nurturing, but that some things may have happened that did alter my development for the worse. My personality never really crystallized and remained somewhat malleable, in some ways I may not have finished evolving as a person.

I came out of childhood as a highly functional and well put together person, albeit with some subtle differences from `normal`. I would have stayed mostly healthy, with a superimposed depressive disorder, but no personality disorder. It was after I became deeply involved with a particular individual in my life that changes began. I think it was the cumulative and synergistic effects of my mood disorder and the extremes of this relationship that began to re-form what was an already highly malleable personality. In some ways it was like a second childhood, only this time with a parent figure that was extreme in all characteristics, highly addictive, extremely unstable, explosively unpredictable, bitter and resentful. Add to this my own substance abuse and after five years I was very adversely affected.

I think that this explains to a very large part how I could have developed a personality disorder in my late twenties, early thirties. What should have been formed in early adulthood only began to solidify after I was married, and only really crystallized by my thirtieth birthday.

So, hopefully, I can somehow re-forge who I am and how I related to the world and everybody in it. Obviously I don’t expect that to happen overnight, nor for it to develop spontaneously or easily. And I don’t even know if it possible to do this sort of thing intentionally, or whether exposure to an extreme amount of stress or pressure may be needed to disrupt the crystallization and return me to a molten state.

Well, it has been a long year, but overall I would have to say that things have definitely improved in some ways. I am beginning to feel more normal , well, at least half normal, nowadays. This is a big improvement from this summer when I was half psychotic.

Well, I said I was almost half normal now, and had been half crazy this summer. But that only accounts for half a person, I wonder where the other half of me went then? I hope this does not mean I am only half a person. I know I am short, but I did not think I was that short.

I think that when a person does go past the breaking point and becomes completely crazy, they no longer ask themselves such questions. So when you stop questioning your competency, that is when you lose it. I am just going to continue to think I am going crazy.

While I had been half crazy this summer, I was completely crazy last Christmas. Somewhere between Christmas and the following summer, half of me disappeared.

But if half of me had disappeared, another three quarters of something came back because I am one and a quarter times last years weight.

Unless maybe I just got a lot shorter over summer, which would mean that there is actually less of me. This would account for only a crazy half Kevin moving home in June.

I suppose that this also means you, and everybody else will be seeing a lot less of me.

And if there is so much less of me, can I get away with only buying half a pair of pants and shirts, and only one shoe.

And how would I wipe my but if there was only one cheek.

Well, I guess that would not change much, it would just seem very different

And I think half crazy AND half normal people should only half to pay half of their income tax.

And I wonder if life expectancy is only thirty six years old (thirty seven and a half years for all the half crazy and half normal women).

And if these half crazy or half normal women are only half women, does that make the half sexual, instead of heterosexual or bisexual

I am getting scared again.

Starting to feel like I did last Christmas, like last year about this time.

Starting to worry if it is the methadone
The juice that keeps me going
And while it may not always keep me going forward
It definitely helps keep me from going back

I am getting more confused everyday
I cannot so easily read people,
Or when I do read them I cannot trust my vision
My hearing is scattered in that
I hear fragments of speech with long gaps
Far from my reach

My thoughts are a simple complexity
Redundant in their originality

I can read into situations and conversations
Things that nobody else seems able
It is obvious, sitting there in the the open
Like a secret text laid on the kitchen table
I cannot understand why somebody does not say something

And then this hidden truth which only I know
Slips away briefly from my mind
I turn and look again to see where it went
II search and can not find

And I myself am become invisible
Or at the very least I am fading
Nobody can see me from the corner of their eyes
Their sight I easily evade
Unless looked at directly,
And even then not for long
I am seen and clearly visible
But from their memory I slide
And quickly am forgotten

And what of my voice
I have been muted or muffled
Have I lost the ability to speak English
And all they hear is me mumbling murmurs

I say something
Standing straight face to face
But I can see by the look in their eye
That although I am heard, they did not listen

A minute after I have spoken
My words have dissipated
Like a puff of smoke in a storm
Quickly smeared throughout
Immediately indistinguishable
From the background

http://video.google.ca/videoplay?docid=-3254560354516206978
The Retarded Policeman Episode One

The Retarded Policeman Episode Two

The Retarded Policeman Episode Three

The Retarded Policeman Episode Four