The impact of trauma often appears within a voice of self-criticism, shame, and doubt. Examples include, You caused this, or If you were smarter you could have-. When do you hear this voice appear within you? What does it say? How does it feel to be aware of it?

This one is tricky because a lot of my mental illness exists simultaneously alongside crippling self awareness. 

You can't really call yourself smart but my mother turned down my therapist’s suggestion of joining Mensa so I don't really know how else to go about having unnaturally high intelligence, because it’s in bad taste to talk about your own intelligence for whatever reason. 

Unnaturally high intelligence isn't necessarily impressive, killers of innocent people can have unnaturally high intelligence. 

One thing about it that I think is pretty universal across the board, whether you like killing people who are innocent or guilty, or no one at all: is the isolation aspect. 

It’s extremely isolating for a child of high intelligence to not be fully surrounded by those who think like them, which isn't necessarily in the cards for everyone. Yeah, your really smart but its still unnatural. 

Anyways, being extremely self aware and mentally came with challenges. It was like I was witnessing myself crash out, knowing it wasn't the “right thing to do” but I had absolutely no control over it. Literally like watching a train crash. 

Look, I have been in therapy since I was two. My mom thought that me sitting on my newborn sister at two years old was indicative of a pathological problem, this on-top of my meltdowns that had started around the same time. 

You’d think that would make me more normal or something, having a therapist basically all of my life, but I have had a good amount of terrible therapy. 

Therapy is a lot like dating, there needs to be a certain chemistry, in addition to complimenting one another in such a way that allows for therapeutic flow. 

I have had some toxic therapists, and some smothering ones, I have had all kinds to be honest. 

Specialists for OCD or that small amount of time they thought I was bipolar. 

Anyways, therapy isn’t all you need in order to be more “normal” if you are anyway like me. You need medication and serious daily self intervention to not feed impulses and dopamine addiction (of which if you are in any way like me you fail miserably at).

Point of the whole thing is this: 

I know logically what I need to do, yet impulsively, I follow my emotions every time. Like an animal, like those old experimental rats. That you see videos of in psych class. I used to cry when I saw those videos for the first time. I felt bad for the rats and mice and rabbits that were constantly forced to breed and subjected to horrific conditions. I still feel bad, a cold knot forms in the pit of my stomach. I just don't cry like that anymore. 

Maybe it's the Abilify. 

I am constantly bouncing back and forth between Substack Instagram and Tiktok where I have a collective of around 7 thousand followers, where I try to engage with their content as much as I make content of my own. If only I could combine their attention into a pill to take every day. I think that would be the so-called "perfect pill” the ones psychiatrists warn you about. 

“You're never going to find that ‘perfect pill’ that’s going to fix everything.” or whatever. 

There are several of those critical voices in my head. They nit-pick everything that I do. Is it too much? Too little? Constantly stewing over choices like goldilocks. My brain is goldilocks and my family are the three bears. 

Those voices in my head tell me that it’s mostly hubris when I think I have a chance at being successful. In my personal definition of successful, being rich enough to get away with murdering a couple of men. 

Just kidding

Ugh. As much as I know my writing is good I know it could be even better and maybe it's just a matter of time, or maybe this is as good as it gets and I actually wasn't cut out for the big leagues. Whatever. 

Like Laycie. She writes so well and so wonderfully it feels like a slap across the cheek. Not in the disrespectful way but in the playful way. 

Laycie is fabulous. She is the very definition of the word. Any other word would be Swag. She used to be called Bunny, and she says that everyone should be Bunny in their 20’s at least once in their lifetimes. I wanna be like Laycie so bad sometimes I even feel envious of her. Then I feel bad about it and then I cry and then I try to feel happy for her and feel somewhat okay with myself, and being myself and who I am. I love Laycie so much and her success in Playboy and with her band Lucky Horse Red makes me elated for her.I want more and more for her, I want the world for her, as i want it for myself.

I know my time will come, and it will look different because I’m different but maybe being able to impact at least one person deeply, would mean more to me than a million people with something generic and polished to hell like QT or others like him. Or maybe my time has come and gone and I was supposed to be on the Child-star-to-adult-basket-case pipeline so my parents could live off of me for a change. Whatever. The main thing is is that I want to impact people, I want to be remembered for have made some kind of original statement that has a lasting impact. You know how most writers are. Is it bad to want those things? The voice in my head tells me it is. I don’t know if its reason or trauma. Who knows, Who cares?