Wow, my actual spoken words of a last time of doing my “chemical happiness” due to lack of availability and money. I have been wanting the last time for years but every time it’s ripped apart and I am not getting the momentum of a mindset settled. I need it to be and go a certain way so I feel it is real, done by me, complete, and the work to be able to keep with it. The only happy I get is a drug. A smile plastered on my face & creations spill out in ways, words, hitclip like quotes and lyrics that make my day brighter and shiny to enjoy.
If the voices that I hear and the stupid shit I see (not my imagination) wouldn’t RIP me apart limb from limb I’d be on a completely different path than what I am on now. They take everything; my spirit/spirituality, my voice, my mind, my each and every coping skill that has been personally applied towards my betterment, my imagination (It’s literally just tiny bits of clips), my normal body’s functions are even gone, My dreams aren’t mine either.
After my last smaller than normal dose of “ice” was settling in my veins and it was time to head home for my focusing/comprehensive/silent time to work on my things needed. In the vehicle about halfway home… BOOM! I feel my defibrillator pop me not once but twice. A buddy called for help and I decided to go in to be seen. Taken by ambulance to my feared a place, the IU Health Hospital (something like that) a.k.a. Ball Hospital I was, BOOM! Third time jolted now! Normally tracked and monitored by my phone’s Samsung Health application it rarely exceeds 110 BPM to 130 BPM. Seven years and this is the first. (Possible new chemicals used, laced, or the bugs inside me had something to do with it) Once I landed into the trauma unit where I watched my numbers steady at 166 then it fuckin’ popped me again. Its max number is 200 -250… no reason that time. Total of four jolts to my heart, in which I named Harriet!! They magnetically paused my defibrillator wIsh I was grateful for, as well as for the counter-acting drugs given. Nurses, here, are so serious as I tried to joking around because it’s all I got to use as coping skill to lessen my sense of being scared/afraid out of my chest.
Mom and dad knew too quickly for me… since my phone was dead and all. They were there waiting like they watch me or something. 911 responder didn’t get my name… EMT’s silenced my name until near arrival. So radios didn’t send out my government name to Mom, dad, or Roger. I’m still pondering on this timeline of this situation. Things aren’t adding up if they aren’t involved with the interal torture I go through.
How does this happen and what are the true intentions of being there and the vibes felt in a daily.
Now, I am admitted in the hospital. Resting and coping with myself among side coping from this hostile environment! -with or without other beings!
Being Better Than Yesterday. 
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