#i fucking loath endogenics

[vallovescookies]

Are intro posts a thing?

“Would you please objectify me? I’m just a hunk of, hunk of, burning self-loathing!”

So uh...not gonna lie, this is yet another stupid thing I did on impulse. oops. So uh...Hello, I’m Valentino, or just Val for short (Fuck man I’d respond to even “THAT BITCH”). I’m a fictive in a system, and I’m deadass only on tumblr to rant about how much I hate my source, share some recipes, then inevitably forget my password and never come back again. 

I’m gonna answer a few questions here, get it over with, and then I’m probably gonna be back to vent/rant or do something stupid. 

Q: Are you a Valentino kinnie?

A: Fuck. No. I am a fictive of him. I also do not back or endorse his actions, I am actually repulsed by a lot of them. 

Q: Can source mates interact with this blog?

A: I don’t see why you would want to, but you can. Please note, however, I’m uncomfortable with people being super friendly because of source. Any Angel Dust fictives, however, if it helps to announce your distaste for me, I am actually okay with that. This applies with IRLs as well

Q: What’s a fictive?

A: In short, a fictive (or, fictional introject if you want to use the longer term), is an alter in a system (someone with DID/OSDD, if you don’t know what that is, you are in the wrong place, friend.) that is based off of a FICTIONAL SOURCE, be it a fictional book, show, game, etc. All that matters is that you are from a fictional form of media. If you are an introject, yet not from a fictional source, that would make you a factive.

Q: Are you okay with endogenic systems?

Short answer is I’m very, very iffy on them. While I have no doubt that there is a way to be plural without trauma, I am against the concept of non-traumagenic DID/OSDD- as someone with OSDD-1B, it is fact that you need some form of trauma to be a DID-OSD system. However, the brain on its own is a very, very confusing thing, so that is why I’m okay with them until they try to claim to have a dissociative disorder.

Q: What is you&’s main blog?

A: Don’t have one, don’t intend to get one.

Q: Why is your banner what it is?

A: In short, I do genuinely feel horrible for my actions in source. I’m not saying this to seek some comfort, as with what I did, that’s not what I feel I deserve. My banner is what it is to show people, mostly that of source mates, that I am aware of the hurt I’ve caused, plus, with my role in the system (S/T/H) that is often how I am stuck feeling.

Q: How do you feel about source talk?

A: Depends. Sometimes, I’m fine with it, other times, I’m genuinely happier pretending I’m not a fictive of who I am.

Q: How do you feel about source?

A: Like stated, I hate my source for what he’s done. My source’s actions, and therefore, himself, are genuinely very very appalling and repulsive. Nobody should treat anyone the way my source treated people, no matter the circumstances.

Q: Can doubles, kins, and IRLs interact?

Doubles and kins, I prefer not to, but IRLS are welcomed.

Thats...about it? I’ll see ya.

[cptsdbaby]

“DNI: sysmed”

*bites tongue and hits block as not to start drama that other alters would have to deal with*

[drfitzmonster]

through a combination of body dysmorphia (which is not the same as dysphoria) and poor decision making i have wasted $100 on clothes that do not fit and that i cannot return and the only thing i hate more than shopping for clothes is wasting money

throw in my off the rails period hormones and endogenous depression and self esteem issues and it’s just a shitshow of shame and self loathing and i fucking hate it

[new-aquinas]

oceans 2098 // reaper of the sunken places

sobriety reigns ridiculous; imagine stoned ape theory applied in more abstractly cognitive mechanics than neurochemical sense 

almost like the strong anthropic principle but instantiated within the brain’s neuronal structures

one may ponder the curiosity of having narcotic-processing neuroreceptors developed during our evolutionary history, before which we would not have been able to derive the same psychoactivity from the substances which affect us contemporarily 

lord have mercy for i am weak.

while in jail, a pale arabic-looking italian mdma chef with a fake irish passport (was named antonio but the guards would call him the most white mcfuck name whenever his lawyer was visiting, shit was wild) recommended finessing the facility nurses in such a way that you can get yourself on risperidone, slip the pills under your tongue every time the nurse asks you to show a clear mouth after inserting it into your mouth, and for 5 days during the morning pharmaceutical deliveries just stockpile the nice little phenethylamine-shaped mood regulator. take the 5 at once and its the same species as a molly roll. i tested the theory by giving them the name of a deceased doctor practise and while the nurses sent repeated information requests to the doctor’s place, i had my pick and choose of the lovely arsenal of shit that is offered on delivery from the prison’s pharmacy menu.

lord have mercy for i am still weak

the romping risperidone roll was almost horrifying and i quickly changed to amitryptiline (by the time i exited they still had not received word from the doctor’s place but the ami-induced lucid dreams began to deteriorate me so i stopped that too), which would give me absolute free reign of the darkest and most haunting, most aggravating parts of my psyche.

i can imagine the ancient egyptians or even the sumerians or even the architects of goblekli tepe all chewing psilocybin mushrooms back before they would fuck us out the way they do, but dimethyltryptamine’s endogenous perpetuity would make you question that. the egyptian’s worship of the scarab beatle is also quite thought-provoking, seeing as it is one of the limited and intrinsic (inherently thus significant) archetypes that can appear during the DeMeTrius dreamscapes.

lord have mercy on me for i am weak.

whatever liver damage that benzodiazepine abuse would do to me, and whatever cognitive damage that smelly cigarettes would cause, i am both thrilled at my finding of God and absolutely getting punished by the deteriorating ionic-plasma-spec magma that chronic insomnia is

the 2018 lag was me surfing the dreamscapes that so conveniently make themselves manipulatable and hospitable during the most sunken of places, the lag that i came out a few days ago was tortuous insomniac self-loathing destabilised by the deathmarch of general insomni

general winter stormed the chambers of cognition and the pores of the dermi much much early inside that cold piece of depraved cement and during one night of the embarassing bawling, i wrote a set of prayers out which ultimately had me released on bail within 48 hours. 20 minutes after i wrote the prayer i used pencil to notate the ideas that had flooded in, and i found out just today that my mother had asked the local priest to cast special prayer for those incarcerated.

and i am so far from blasphemous following the haunting life of arrogance that i have had, but its a shocking coincidence that my parents named me after the son of the Creator himself, and then i came out into fresh air at 8 fucking 30pm on the same calendar date as the supposed day that god’s son came out of his cave

good friday? in my language i believe it translates as quiet friday or humble friday. my god complex is removed and instead i have realistic understanding of everything so much more

normally i float on the keyboard with eloquence and synthesis that surprises even my previously-arrogant mindsets but i think this poor poor quality stream of consciousness might be any one of my subconscious or unconscious mental structures simply begging for assistance

insomnia and sobriety are eating me alive but i know that this cannot last forever; eventually being blurred will go back to being a celebratory mechanic and the chaotic ramblings of an un-sedated factory of thought will simply be delegated as the baseline level of psychoactivity

lord help me for i am weak; before the aquinas protocol became as twisted as the medici protocol i was able to find the light but it takes 28-90 days to break a habit (depending who you ask) and currently this feels like agonizing torture because the Blur still feels like Home

also my mother’s story of the priest’s son’s sudden aneurism really deeply haunts me, because many of my cold cellular 4am romps while in the sunken place were actually featuring cold cold cold questions paraphrased simply as “was i given a life of unregulated, no-ceiling hedonism simply to go to sleep and not wake up right at the bend in the pathway that is the drastic change in my life”

my brain is not working and i am in pain; does removing sedatives from a no-pain environment create pain because the pain threshold begins to function as a derivative of the chemicals anaesthetising me? and i just remembered that the situations which created the need for this bullshit Blur were definitely not no-pain environments.

lord help me for i am weak

HOW IS IT FAIR THAT I AM STUPIDER AND SLOWER WHEN SOBER? people have chatted much and accused me of the ugly smoke rocks; they were only ever touched and seen during the most demonic and depraved parts of my life. i would often tranquilize myself with the equivalent of overdose intakes and still function more mathematically than even the most boosted smack junkie

is it simply fucking willpower? lord help me for i am weak

at first i thought that the stoned ape theory is like the chicken or the egg, but now my cognition is completely failing and for the first time i do not have the intensity to finish or even impactfully structure this poor excuse for a stream of consciousness

i recently learned that admitting and notating weakness revolutionizes oneself like nothing else, so lord help me for i am so fucking weak