( Note, this is dated from Autumn of 2005, but was one of the pieces I decided to salvage from my old diary )

I was outside again today. Stressed up completely about a paper that I needed to get from the social insurance bureau. Ended up stressed, late, and with a growing sense of dread and panic. As I came out, my breathing increased, panting, sweating, feeling the blood beat in my ears and my fingertips throbbing with each new beat of my heart. The familiar taste of lead, iron, copper in my mouth as I press myself
onwards, my limbs shaking with every step.

I move on, feeling my nails clench into the leather of my gloves, knowing my posture is far too much bent forwards, still thinking somewhat coherently as I push on, extending each step to cover as much distance as possible, breathing pressing out through my teeth in a hiss.

At some point along the way I lose the grip and stop thinking rationally, no longer coherent as I know that my teeth are bared and I catch myself snarling at people who come too close, my mind starts to run with even more emotion, the music feels slow, like a parody of emotion. Every person in sight feels threatening, invading, pressing tighter onto me and attempting to break in on me. My clothes fit too snugly, it feels as if my coat is about to rip across my back. In some ways I know this is nonsense, but I cannot push the feeling away. I lose the distance to myself and feel myself wrap in through the power of panic induced adrenaline kicks of emotion.

People stop to turn and stare at me, mouths hanging open, I push them aside in my mind, focusing solely on the road beneath my feet, on the path straight towards my goal. I feel my teeth grit, tasting bile in my
throat, feeling sick, shaking in my arms. Strained and tired.
.... My memory of the actual errand is blurred. I know I managed some latitude of a joke, I also know its quite visible on me that I'm not totally there, or feeling very well, my face must be pressed into some forced calmness before I enter. I know I didn't even once raise my voice or waver from the well practised calm mode of speech.

The way back home is even more a blur, harder, more panting, at some point my vision of people became intermingled with the view of their mutilated bodies, a man stopped and turned as my mind raced through the scene of my fingers pushing through his eye sockets, my palm crushing his nose as I repeatedly beat his hollow head against the cold stonewall behind him, everything turns into a scene more resembling Hellraiser or some other Barkeresque visage. Brutal, personal aggressive mayhem, without a single drop of blood visible. The cheeks of a girl torn up from her lips to her ears and her jaw pushed down into her chest bone. A teenager who sits on a rail is strung up like another set of wild strawberries. A smokers lungs put on fire inside his body.

I don't know how much of this that people can actually see, They are just parodies of beings imposed on me, forcing themselves closer, stopping to gawk. I know my teeth are bared, I feel the icy pressure
against my gums as my pace brusquely pushes through the mixed crowd of cars and people.

I'm distinctly afraid of someone daring to stop me, to touch me. At which point will I completely lose my sense and assault someone? I snarl at people who turn and say something, I know I'm not coherent, cannot force my mind clear from the continuous rush of aggressive panic that pound at me. I feel each breath, each heartbeat sinking into my skull, all too much to bear. My feeble attempts to drown the beating out with music only makes it worse, it can convey nothing. The fastest beat I have is a mere parody of emotion as my thoughts race faster than anything my ears can comprehend, yet I still cannot even comprehend my own thoughts.

At some point I feel my body burn out, the energy draining completely from me, shivering from lack of blood-sugar, my mood influenced, burning up, from aggression to tragedy and back, for one moment mourning the loss of a reddening leaf above me as it filters the sunlight through its sheer surface, the next a visage of the old lady's body torn up and littered on the ground... At this point my mind starts to clear up and I'm gaining coherence again, knowing that I need to eat, calm down, be safe, isolate...

I increase the speed of my step again.


As I was talking this through with inz I realised that I wasn't completely clear on what the fear was. Or how this affected me. Towards the point where this is most intruding, I cannot really tell, without stopping to think, whether I just tore the little girls arm out of her socket and choked her with it, or if that was just inside my mind. The line between perceptual reality and induced reality is completely gone. The conceptual reality can even take over, especially in the case of how others appear (threatening, imposing, pushing, hostile).

The other thing was how this affected other people. Was this a hatred towards people in general, as the race, society, the crowd? No. The feeling is a direct and very personal aggression directed specifically; at the people in my immediate surroundings. It is them and not some unfocused ideal of a group or society. Its personal.

Note: followup post here :