The Petulant Megalomaniac

This is the second time this has happened in two weeks. I had just woken up and I was lying in bed. Something popped into my head and I thought ‘this would be great for my book.’ But I didn’t jump up and write it. I sat there and did my best to forget it. I actively fought against creative inspiration.

And the for reason is that, despite knowing how stupid it sounds, I can’t help the feeling my book is important. It is important and there is some group or force wanting me to write it and they are responsible for me being alone. They want me alone so that way I’ll write. They don’t care that I suffer. So the only way I can get back at them is to make my worse less good. I still write but when I have an amazing and sudden Idea I just ignore it till I forget it.

So even though part of me knows I’m behaving like a jack ass, I just sit there doing everything I can to prevent myself from getting up and writing.

I’m so much better than I was during my psychotic break. I am one of the most lucid of all schizophrenics. My doctors all agree with me, and often laugh, when I pull that one out. But it won’t let go of me completely will it? All these concessions I give it like going out hardly at all, not seeing my family, not seeing my Grandmother before she died or going to her funeral, not playing tennis again. Despite all that I do, it just wont let me lead the small, peaceful life I ask for.

(Sorry for bitching alot)

Anybody else do foolish things in an act of rebellion against something part of you knows isn’t even there?

I can relate to the part of the post that Im meant to be alone so I can be an artist. I used to just want to have a girlfriend. But I never got that so I strove towards being creative.

Now I’m at the point where being creative is what I really enjoy to do, and I kind of need a girl by my side to help me out with encouragement or something… I don’t even know but I need a girlfriend.

But if I had got a gf…4 years ago. I might have quit being creative and be content and satisfied. Now I won’t be.

But I’ve felt god wanted me to be alone

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I really hope the myth of the starving artist is bunk. I don’t like the idea of a world where you have to suffer in order to create something worthwhile. Why can’t we make something worthwhile and still have someone to go home to?

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Compromise: Keep a note pad handy and write down the idea, then go back to sleep or whatever. It’s okay to take a break from being creative, just don’t let a good idea go into a crack.


Yes I relate to this…anything academic I am literally pushed to do. Which is not a bad thing, considering there’s a logic loop built in. People would laugh at what I do, if it was not scientifically sound. So I am literally forced to do things that are rationally and empericaly consistant. LMAO.

So your in a different situation, and I don’t know how reality testing would work, being authentic can move to thinking outside the box, and from there, anywhere, if you have sz. But maybe you can craft your own route.

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But see that is the thing. I’m not letting myself forget. I’m forcing myself not to write it until I forget. Like there is one idea in my head from last week. I still remember it enough and I could type it up right now. Even after a long enough time I should be able to convince myself of the truth, that it is all in my head. But I’m not going to because I’d rather lose a great idea than give into this force trying to control me.

Sometimes I think it has less to do with actual megalomania. Sure, I have that and I have to stop myself from thinking I get messages through the tv sometimes. But I worry it has to do more with feelings of worthlessness.

I’ve sheltered myself my whole life and the few choices I let myself make, I always made the wrong ones. I didn’t work hard enough, I threw away good people, I’ve done a bunch of stuff that I am ashamed of.

So maybe my need to feel like I matter feeds my delusion. If I can actually be a writer, not only a writer but one important enough that outside forces care about what I write, then it makes my existence matter for the first time ever. That way I can at least think that I’m doing something important.

This sounds like a delusion, but I’m sure that if you search your soul far enough you can find meaning and freedom in this

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