hell is a real place

Page Five

saturday 26 april 2008 greenfield

in his play no exit, jean-paul sartre says that hell is other people. for me at least, people have always been more hell than heaven. I'm nervous, frightened and irritated around people, even people I like. I think this is part of the asperger's-autism thing to some degree, because I was always like this, even before there were repeated traumas and more traumas in my life. PTSD on top of asperger's makes for much-increased anxiety, even fear, around people. nature, animals and the arts were always the places where I wasn't bored, or irritable, or afraid.

but there's another thing that hell is, too. when your whole life and identity are ripped away from you. your private space, your belongings, and the ones you love. and let us not forget that I have the department of mental health here in greenfield to thank for this hell I live in: the people who were supposed to care, and to help.

I've always been a questioner. it's the kind of brain I have, I guess, always wanting to know why and wanting to figure things out. this is another quirk I've taken a lot of criticism about. nonetheless, I have always wanted to know why. if people find me so strange and hard to be around, why don't they just leave me alone and let me be weird? why do they so often take a sadistic pleasure in actively hurting me?

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read... Neverending solitaire... Mishibone...

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2008-2012 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

meandering

Page Three

thurs 24 april 2008 greenfield

Meandering through the streets of two towns is mostly how I spend a good part of each day now, having no life that is at all recognizable as my own. As of eight days ago, I live in a rented bedroom. No apartment, nothing of the life of a grown-up. Still the homeless bum that the DMH made me. Still waiting for them to come up with some kind of apartment and give back at least some of my animals from wherever they've hidden them. My heart meanders among grief, rage, depression. My eyes meander over human faces and see how bland and uninteresting they are compared to the expressions on the faces of animals. So it has always been, as far back as I can remember. I have Asperger's Syndrome. Animal faces have always been fascinating to me, and beautiful. Whereas the human face has always been partly frightening, partly boring, partly too duplicitous.

And on computers I meander among my blogs and wonder if anyone in the readership I have can understand -- even a little -- how I feel.



Update 30 June 09, Greenfield: My eyes were also meandering over certain human faces (Matthew's included) that were popping up in MY face way too often, much more often than the laws of chance would allow. Some of them pretending to be insane (including Matthew), but I could look in their eyes and see that there was no insanity there. They were playacting: but why?
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read... Kaikenlainen... Extemporaneana...

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(stone spiral at www.gaelsong.com)
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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2008-2012 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.