The Heat is Stroking Me: syncope girl summer

July 1, 2021

Every summer, beautiful days take place when a lack of oxygen reaches my brain and I succumb to the ground’s temptation. I’m just like a damsel in distress! Except its not the 18th century and I don’t have a fainting room equip with a velveteen chaise lounge, and perverted psychiatrist to treat me with female hysteria. This is not out of the ordinary or remarkable for me. But unlike the Fainting Goat, which has a hereditary condition that causes it to tense up and keel over when startled—which is cute, I just enjoy suffering.

“Actually, you’re weak, you’re soo weak” I mewl to no one. “Just carry me outside... and bring the Brita!”

My house is 92°

I am FEEBLE!

My landlord is the Antichrist.

If I die tonight that’s on my landlord or God! Just kidding, I am immortal.

As many as 60% of those with schizophrenia have religious grandiose delusions consisting of believing they are a saint, God, the devil, a prophet, Jesus, or some other important person. ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᴰᵉᵖᵗ. ᵒᶠ ᴺᵉᵘʳᵒˡᵒᵍʸ, ᴹᶜᴸᵉᵃⁿ ᴴᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ, ᴴᵃʳᵛᵃʳᵈ ᴹᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃˡ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ, ᴮᵉˡᵐᵒⁿᵗ, ᴹᴬ ⁽ᴱᴰᴹ, ᴮᴴᴾ)

When I get disoriented I feel the most prophetic.

Anyways. Love is Everywhere, I can Feel It.

Folie à deux is the most romantic thing two people can do with each other. It even says so in the DSM-5. (I wrote the DSM-5) It is very high up on my To-Do list.

I need a caretaker, no scratch that, no more archetypes that support the patriarchy. I need a paragon of virtue. A model saint to nurture and mentor me. Feed me ♥ Pure Light ♥ mouth to mouth like a mommy bird. Purity has always been the escape route, the white light at the end of the tunnel. How do you know when you’re in the tunnel?

I’m so melodramtic. I used to live off of off-label foreign stimulants and handfuls of Cheerios, I’ll be fine. I will figure it out tomorrow! I will buy another fan…and another. So many fans. I will plug them all in at exactly the same time, their unified vibrating hum will lull me into hypnagogia.

w⃣ h⃣ i⃣ t⃣ e⃣ n⃣ o⃣ i⃣ s⃣ e⃣ w⃣ h⃣ i⃣ t⃣ e⃣ n⃣ o⃣ i⃣ s⃣ e⃣ w⃣ h⃣ i⃣ t⃣ e⃣ n⃣ o⃣ i⃣ s⃣ e⃣

ɯԋιƚҽ ɳσιʂҽ ɯԋιƚҽ ɳσιʂҽ ɯԋιƚҽ ɳσιʂҽ ɯԋιƚҽ ɳσιʂҽɯԋιƚҽ ɳσιʂҽ ɯԋιƚҽ ɳσιʂҽ ɯԋιƚҽ ɳσιʂҽ

░w░h░i░t░e░ ░n░o░i░s░e░ ░w░h░i░t░e░ ░n░o░i░s░e░ ░w░h░i░t░e░

Whirring and droning… my eyelids are getting heavier just thinking about it.

Oh shit, I forgot I put a gold coin over each of them!

I like this moment right here. I am disoriented and detached but not like how I usually am. It’s as if I cOnTaiN muLtiTuDeS. I am a botanical rhizome. I imagine the cartography of my circulatory system to look something like the veins of a leaf. I then imagine my skin pailing and my blood suddenly becoming acid yellow, like foliage suffering with chlorosis. I don’t feel so good. I look down at my wrists and I can’t make out where any of my blood vessels start or finish. Guess it doesn’t matter.

This is sooo Deleuzian. This moment right here, this dramatic ⓔⓥⓔⓝⓣ right here. (Me on my stoop, pleasurably suffering from HeatStroke™ in a silk slip, nursing my Brita.) Except unlike Deleuze, problems aren’t an axiom to my universe, problems don’t even exist in my universe. Everything that happens is perfect , beautiful , FATEFUL . For something to be a problem, it must hold the promise of a solution.... I don’t desire a cure, or an end. No no, I want this event to stretch, grow, propagate! I want to feel worse, fall deeper into this torment so traumatically so, that I have no memory of the event at all and it comes to me later, as if nothing but a dream!

We want to fix things alllllllllllll the time. I just want to sit with my Brita and maintain my problematic structure. Whatever, I’m done sitting outside. I’m acting deranged. I can hear the bugs cackling and guffawing at my pathetic state. By coming back inside this house, I take control. I am not trapped in this transcendental consciousness, I am fully aware of my place in Hell.

I stand in front of my freezer, door agape. I draw a single ice cube over my face, I think about letting it fall down the back of my spine but it melts before I even get the chance.

I fill a 20oz tumbler with ice cold water and bring it back to bed with me. I clutch the bottle tight to my chest like a frigid and distant lover. I think to myself, this is totally working! This will bring my heart back down to where it belongs, ice cold.