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Finally! Dreams and reality

Completed the nights that turn into nightmares. Now I sleep a deep sleep without remembering any dreams of. Two months of suffering annihilated in the space of three nights. Gone are also agitated sleep or nap three to four hours in the afternoon to recover. I'm not afraid to go to sleep.

My psychiatrist, whom I see once a month in the psychiatric hospital issued me an antipsychotic drug at bedtime, 25mg Loxapac the night and my fears have been annihilated. Moreover, I do nights from ten to twelve hours and woke up in shape.

My dearest friend is my home for five weeks. That happiness.

Yours.

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I sleep very badly, of course, but my nightmares imprisonment were transformed Epic in dreams. I am fighting alongside the Arabs in Poitiers Loved scimitar or else I'm locked in a world controlled by a mad scientist whose screenplay looks like "The Truman Show". In the latter, I decided to stay in this fantastic world rather than falling into a frightening reality.

No, thank you, no need for psychoanalysis, I've already been there and did not want to finish my analysis. The nightmares are in prison due to the simple fact that I never leave home without much to be deprived of liberty. The scriptwriters strange dreams, I do not know yet and have no need to know.

clock at 6:30, like many mornings over the past two months. My psychiatrist saw yesterday, I ordered a Loxapac (antipsychotic) at bedtime instead of Tercian made me go to 40mg of Prozac and Stillnox in case of insomnia. All this chemistry in my body, my brain scares me.

My balance depends on this, I have no choice otherwise the psychiatric hospital once more.

I spin me run a coffee while wishing you a good day.

Yours.

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more incredible that the mystery Anita Ekberg or crop circles, mystery Nicolas Sarkozy.

Or how it makes for even 36% positive rating while splashing through the mud all the time?

Well, we must recognize that this is really nice Colonel Qaddafi, a good head assassin, pretty dresses, the oil you want in here, a very cool and relaxed side (He loves to camp), do not judge people only on their little faults, he really is a little milk soup, Muammar, but it's as if we had an opinion about Hitler only thinking of the Kristallnacht.

Hitler, he also makes pretty oil paintings.

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The cabinet ice

From 2003 to 2005 I worked as a draftsman-designer in architecture in Paris before I get fired for my behavior endemic to schizophrenia. I was able to work during these two years. I loved that work is always on site and no longer at the agency.

The first year I was led to work for the hospitals in Paris, notably the Institut Gustave Roussy, 2 levels of basement is reserved for funeral services. Autopsy room, cold room and presentations from the dead to families.

I spent a week. I saw a hundred dead, lying under sheets or in the cleaning room of corpses, or in open coffins. I was never scared because I grew up with death. It was very rewarding to work with.

face of these deaths (young, old, infants), seeing me ice, coroners and nurses nicknamed me "the cupboard". Indeed, nothing shocked me, I remained unmoved. Once, at -30 °, I sat for an hour in the dark, along with thirty corpses in order to immerse myself in this mortuary silence.

Mad? No, I just wanted to learn to face death with great back and it worked. Today, I'm not afraid to die. I grew up.

images come back to me sometimes, dead in their coffins or bedding found in cold rooms.

I confess that I was going to send me a couple of Calvados in the late afternoon before returning to the agency.

Death is part of life and these doctors have the faint of heart. Eternal respect.

Yours.

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Mystery Ekberg

more incredible than the mystery of crop circles or the village Bugarach Mystery Anita Ekberg.

Or how she does for her dress slipping not when she wades into the Trevi Fountain?

is still more interesting than flying saucers.

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talkative and curious

The gossips have always impressed. What flow. Always something to say, an opinion on everything from analysis on the facts of society (more or less relevant), braving the political coolly, revise history. The computer also has no more secrets for those curious, open to all.

Open or partitioned in a narrow spirit which allows them to comfort them in spreading their science? This is all facade. Poor poetry in a world ossified. So naturally, everyone has its solutions.

But it suits me as being a silent character, these people speak for two. I had to stay alone for too long not to have something to say, to tell, to enumerate, analyze, comment.

m'endorment The talkative. They talk too much.

that, I will return to immersion.

Yours.

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Sloth

bored is a precious time or minutes remain on hold and turn into hours. Nothing to do, nothing to do. No desire to go to war against myself and devote myself to drawing. My designs are different. Do nothing.

I swallowed my antipsychotics. It remains for me to wait for my chance to be seized. My mind will not escape, it is now camisole. My soul? I do not know where she wanders over the bitter relations between heaven and earth.

good it is to do nothing when everything moves around you. Ode to laziness. Fountain of youth.

Yours.

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Even kneeled

I learned that I could be of value in the eyes of some, I was not only schizophrenic but I could change in my own name. I also learned that this inferiority complex that has haunted me for many years was that I only see me as a schizophrenic. I forgot who I really am.

I am a whole person before being a patient. Can I please even if it also puzzles me. I should not let myself go like that. I gave up and me down constantly. I always thought it was written on my forehead and I had to justify myself. No, I was wrong.

One can love me as I am, with flaws, qualities and disease. I can not believe my eyes, great wide open on what I just typed. I am me before being psychotic. I must stop looking for me, ever, in the past that I loved so much in this beautiful life gone.

I changed, I evolved from my twenty years and I must find the strength to assert myself as I am. The struggle must continue, I must get up and regain dignity and pride of being a man among men. And if you ask me what I do in life, I must tell the truth, not me scroll.

Thank you my friend help me strongly in that direction. I open my eyes misted alcohol and sadness.

Good day to you especially well.

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This will not last

I'm sick, yes, I'm not well and everyone is bored. I wish that you respect my wish to be alone in times such as this. Respect is all I want. I'm tired, tired of the human race. I live in the age of a hermit and I want to stay back in the world.

is a dream. The phone rings, I do not answer. I must buy this kind of stupidity that I am highly tobacco dependent. I dig through my drawers and found a packet of tobacco brought from Tunisia. Looks like pipe tobacco. I heated a ball of hashish and pulls smoke.

Here I am in paradise for drug addicts. Whatever. I feel good while thinking of those trapped in transit, slave labor, to computers, the zombies cities. Finally, solitude is good. I would have to assert myself a little more.

I crush my joint, want to finish writing my book about my life as a paranoid schizophrenic. Envy finished my first drawing that you have in one corner, the first in a long series. No courage, no strength, no laziness, no. I rekindled another seal and means "Tell not your life" in this music.

I leave you to your concerns while I'm off to my business.

Yours.

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Do you know how I feel?

Without morale. Bedridden. I want to smash a force sickly. I do not spit on anything except acid. I feel good about myself in a trance, controlled, managed. I have serious addictions but it is the only way to escape from my mental prison.

I would break the walls. All tampers, family, friends, dogs and cats. No more of headaches, intractable conflicts on my part, the daily difficulties. Fighting to get up, wash, get to eat. Crab crap mentally. Fucking cancer of the mind. Damn schizophrenia.

I'm tired. I'm tired, drained of all strength. The courage to nothing, not even lift a glass or rolling a joint. I want to scream. Take a guy in the street and scream Above all I feel in this bitch of living in this shitty life.

fuck kicked in the ass to all those idiots that keep me living in my own way, as I can. I'm just an effort to others without ever expecting anything in return. And that too I am sick and tired. I want to take care of me, without concessions.

apologize for the language but I am pissed.

Yours.

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crisis of conscience. Sexuality

I have a weakness for, but not to humans. I feel abused, taken aback, speechless, flabbergasted, trouble ease, not in my place, below. So I efface myself, I gum landscape, I return to myself, withdrawn, reserved, shy, in my inner world, I'm missing, I am.

is a leak that I can not control. I go when I'm tired and the world around me get drunk. And that hurts me morbid introversion. I do not manage anything, I'm missing. I do not calculate anything, I do not react well, I do not get it. Although in my corner but anxious.

I slap crises paranoid when I'm surrounded. Violence makes me terribly afraid (of schizophrenic mind) I fear and still encounters. I'm still sick, I still have work to do on me with my psychiatrist at the hospital.

I

of awareness as it continually. This is on my sickly behavior, the crises that are hurting.

My friend returned home. I see her in two weeks to five weeks. I feel good when she is there, I do not think about all that, I'm relaxed, confident. I am weak, I'm not a real man who fears nothing. I'm not tough. I am nothing.

This sensitivity schizophrenic makes me doubt. Lifer.

Music in the comp. I dream of a better life.

Yours.

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I'm not at all driven by sex. This is something that does not interest me more than that. I am quite able to do without. This is not an addiction, it's not a lack. The pleasure I find it also in a good company, in a glass of wine, in a joint.

Why? Because any neuroleptic chemistry that I sent me. I am a chemical straitjacket, and everyone knows that this type of medication reduces libido.

Envy is gone. Simple as that. I will not elaborate more than that.

short, move on.

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Living with schizophrenia is not addressing the reality rationally. Intelligence is not affected by this disease. Combine cannabis and schizophrenia can be dangerous in case of relapse did I read this morning in a psychology magazine article. Logic.

because I like to smoke marijuana / hashish brings relaxation, emptying my head of delusional thoughts and helps me sleep peacefully. Go explain that to a psychiatrist. One who follows me is not aware of this little vice and I maintain that it's better like that.

For my part, I got sick about 20 years because of an intense emotional shock ... LSD. Even if the disease was latent she declared that day. We made crap when you're young. I do not regret taking acid.

I shoot a seal because it seems that poverty is less painful in the sun.

Life is beautiful. Humans are idiots.

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Stupid water

oulah! It seems that there is water in drugs!

Or the opposite, perhaps, in any case is very serious for fish that are under neuroleptics, analgesics and estrogens and of course, there where there is estrogen, is not no fun like a sperm said invert (invert and a sperm is forearmed!)

But what is that crap ;?

there are no fish in tap water!

is still alcohology stuff for us to drink wine!

Well, it's very simple, it's just too many.

is still not hard to understand, we can not pee all drugs in the water cycle without being found in trace amounts in fish and taps.

Once you understand that it is always the same water you piss, everything is clear, finally, if I may say so, because it's actually rather blurred.

Choose:

1) : Stop drinking water

2) : Stop eating drugs

3) : Stop pissing

Rarely will the solution was so simple and if not, we'll all die.

Anyway, we're all gonna die, it's true.

Well, otherwise we will all die in agony, it goes like this?

Shit, think a little fish if you do not do it for your children!


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Sainte Catherine

It happens from time to time, make a small radio to listen zapping it as a feather, the newspaper mentioned. But there are still minor differences noticeable. For example, on Europe 1, there is Catherine Nay.

" What I reproach Nicolas Sarkozy in this issue is not having told the French that France can no longer afford to have real justice "

Catherine Nay on Europe 1 February 11, 2011

Catherine Nay Legion of Honor, it seems. It's really something you give to anyone, simply for having rendered service and has been very useful.

is one, how do you say now, a journalist, yes, that's right, a right-wing journalist is meant here and there, and we see it seems to television.

It thanks to reporters as she knows that things like that France can no longer afford to have real justice.

It n'al'air anything, but that's the kind of concepts that these people have in their heads.

They believe and say this is not a slip.

OF FRANCE HAS MORE WAYS TO HAVE A REAL JUSTICE.

She no longer afford to have a real school either, nor a true health, or probably a real army, the French must be aware of:

France no longer afford.

Catherine Nay Thanks to the courage and lucidity.

The people there still afford real spades to plant after a head full of botox Catherine Nay?

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Paranoid

The night was soft. Nightmares, night fears were caught, hunted. Magic cannabis plant fresh and therapy.

My metaphysical questions turn to obsession when someone stirs up my feelings of schizophrenia. I do not give up until I find a solution. Yesterday I thought of a guy for six hours straight.

And I am still suspicious of those who want to get close too close. I am so screwed. I am peaceful and many have abused up to wear. A crisis paranoid? Sure. Why? I do not know yet, but try to clarify it. Too many injuries from my contemporaries certainly.

The days pass like my nights alone with my girlfriend.

I wish you all the same.

Yours.

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Artificial Paradise

head emptied, formatted, without internal programs. I wander in the studio empty in search of a forgotten nothing. I let myself be carried away by the sweet fumes of a good joint statement. Relaxed, relaxed, calm, in peace, more used. Strange and wonderful sensation.

To counteract this fucking Solian 25 mg to help me get a good night without nightmares, without anxiety, without trouble waking up I devote myself to the delights of paradise artificial nevertheless natural. I put my seal and cast Solian the garbage.

The night was so beautiful that I wake up in a voluptuous fullness. I remain aware, however, I do not escape me, I do not travel. I say a big "Yes" to therapeutic cannabis. Too bad for this poor France who will never know these medicinal plants legally.

With that, I'm off on the couch and perhaps open a book.

Rereading the "Steppenwolf" by Hermann Hesse.

Yours.

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I watch you change

It seems that I change. My cousin told me it was very serious in recent times. My friend found "bizarre" and told me she thought I was changed. My friends, when they are drunk arch, make me ashamed to the point that I come blush in public. I can hardly share the same delusions "no limits".

I have only one answer. I'm going better and better and I have great shot in the wings. The disease hardens me, that's for sure and I have the heart to dry, all senses on the look and life experiences of twenty years out of the ordinary.

I developed acute senses, a different way of thinking, a vision in disguise.

I are all grown up. I matured faster than others. Suffering head forged.

I have no other explanation. I am always schizophrenic.

Yours.

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Fun

I work. I draw at five hours per day. Two and a half hours in the morning followed by two and a half hours in the afternoon. I can not do more because I still tired very quickly. The concentration of defects caused by schizophrenia. After this course, my mind escapes escapes into the cosmos and the descent is long and difficult.

I work in color for the first time. I like it, painting with water on paper 300 mg. I almost finished the first drawing / painting that has already fifteen hours to his credit. I did not realize if it's good or bad.

The next gallery will be published on my site http://axelmotte.com to be named the "pathology". Recurrent theme in which I will rather, vision anatomical severe pathologies such as glaucoma (first book) or breast cancer, etc..

Hoping that this will be a carrier if I can get out. Fatigue takes me quite quickly.

I hope you have fun in what you do.

Yours.

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Don Self - Gift of Life

student once, I gave my blood. At twenty, the best time, I was swept away by schizophrenia. I could not enjoy my youth. Brief.

Today, I am not allowed to give my blood because of the chemistry of antipsychotics that exists in my body. Let alone my platelets.

It saddens me very much. I had my donor card which is now at the bottom of a drawer.

The blood bank is always in demand so please, this is not painful and you will be offered a snack to give you for your efforts.

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An air of freedom

Laughter is peculiar to man and it is a steak.
Mdr.
dies laughing.
Once, long ago, I received a message with these three letters and a lack of attention or because my brain is so fast that it is scary, I thought lol, it meant shit .
Why he ended his message of congratulation by shit that?
In addition, it bn, lol no need to write if we can not pronounce the vowels.
is what I explained to my correspondent in a letter abbreviator twelve pages strongly argued and he told me that I was really very funny, lol! Laughing out loud

There are people who find it funny.
I am a pariah, most people who make other people laugh does not amuse me. Stéphane Guillon be fired from Radio Paris, I did not care, it does not make me laugh and anyway, the funny guys before 9am on the radio, or any time on TV, not me not apply.
I think most comedians unbearable. It was painful enough to the fader fun class, already clumsy and coarse, already seeking applause for their pathetic antics, and they must have become the benchmark for philosophical and political thought of an entire nation of viewers.
thrall to ratings, the advertising market share, they wallow in the false and impertinent provocation calculated or they serve as alibis clowns spilling their imprecations leftist media in ultra-liberal delighted to show the people how point is free speech under the banner of the king loot.
So, some tell me sometimes I'm funny (lol!), And after all, why not? each his own, but rest assured, this is not done on purpose.
No, I was little, I was not the joker of the class. Beginning in kindergarten, I hatched an attempt to seize power in order to establish a democratic regime and to put stickers on fire and the lady in the middle!
You know the totalitarian powers, they make you beautiful game back into line at once repetition and development at the corner, so I reserve a reply from the PC to get out with style
"No Madam, this is not the Normandy that I hate is injustice! "Said Errol Flynn Olivia de Havilland in Robin Hood. That serves
tirade appropriate in all circumstances, just replace "Normandy" and "injustice" by anything.
"No, ma'am, this is not democracy that I hate is the use you make of"
"No, ma'am, this is not the small-lentil salty that I hate, c is cooking in butter "
(Nothing to do with Brice Hortefeux and Auvergne, but you will notice that we can find a hidden meaning in anything with a little good will. This brings out the depth of the most unfathomable depths.)
No, ma'am, it's not that I hate Nicolas Sarkozy is mediocrity "
(You can substitute" NS "for" bacon with lentils, it works too!)
"No, Sir This is not a revolt, it is a revolution! "Nn

Sr cn'st ps 1 c 1 RVLT rvltn!

is very clear, I really do not know why I'm bored with vowels!

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drunkenness and Cousinerie

was the party last night. I drank alcohol until no longer remember the day before. I know it's ugly but I needed to evacuate all the pressure, stress and anxiety due to lack of sleep for a month. And I slept soundly, without medication, without Tercian.

Even if I do not remember anything, I slept very well and have the form and spirit today. This is the main for me. Despite extreme drinking that night (two bottles of wine each) I'm fine now.

By early evening, we talked a lot of my schizophrenia and my cousin told me that some people around him fear for his life when he came to spend the night with me. No surprises for me in front of the ignorance of many morons. They watch too much television journalists and misinformation.

My first drawing for a future exhibition taking shape well. I am happy for once.

In three days, I would not be alone. My best friend comes to spend a short week at home and I'm delighted. I long she was there. I love him very much and it brings me so much.

This Sunday, I'll still work, still draw for my pleasure.

"Whoever insults the peace does not deserve" Oxmo Puccino

Yours.

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One more night, completed in the perspiration of anxiety and nighttime awakenings highly agitated. Tercian The 25 mg does not help me much. This molecule may not be suitable for my case but I still, hard as iron, to want to try.

It has been over three weeks since I do not sleep properly. Surprising that my schizophrenia Chow me paranoid now my nights. In 18 years, it never happened. Previously, I slept very well, without remembering any of this dream and twelve to fourteen hours per night.

I do not understand.

Nevertheless, despite the tired days, I'm very proud of the work produced by my brother for my site designs. The music is also from him. For me to work to feed the site and prepare a new exhibit.

I've had nothing but good feedback, but praise and congratulations for our work.

Despite exhaustion, the morale is good.

Yours.

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"Ach! Love Gross misfortune "Franz Beckenbauer

Raoul Valve was gypsy guitarist in secret. He was afraid of large groups, that is why he ended up leaving her neighbor, Sidonie Plumier, although it was quite in love with her.

How could he bear the 248 other tenants of the bar of concrete in which he lived a passionate but discreet?

He took 12 years to realize that Sidonie Plumier, for whom he played his instrument assiduously, hoping she would hear his arpeggios and all the melancholy gypsy of his compositions, not living, as he supposed, to 17 B, next to the 17 A, but five floors above.

Sidonie Plumier, harpsichord at the conservatory in Hamburg, was not so aware of the gypsy passion that fed his place Raoul Valve, the quiet guitarist who had just left.

She continued calmly to grow a fringe, in the secret purpose of resembling Sophie Marceau.

Most idiots meet, marry and have children, but not all.

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In real life I'm surrounded by racists. I just can not stand. I often hear valves hollow, reproaches, dirty ideas, voting intentions scary. I do not know what to do. Either I or I definitely avoid them in their returns. In all cases it might hurt.

I am unprepared for the hatred of immigrants who are all French than me.

All this saddens and conflicts make me sick.

I'm not well. Not feel like writing.

site drawings first.

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RAS

Night quasi-normal. Strange dreams, without worries, without foundation. Sports dreams and death. The noose is tightening, I hope.

Passage to the pharmacy at dawn where the "horrors"? Antipsychotics in command issued. Nothing to add. The pharmacist always gives me big smiles as she am nice, kind and polite. She is not afraid of my disease.

I sent a note to Oxmo Puccino who told me via Twitter DM. As he said himself in his bio: "Musicopathe Rapologue / / Unreachable but accessible ...". I love this man, sensitive heart, his music, his writings. In the past, I visited his country and his city ... Bamako. Wonderful memories.

should I stop tearing the drawings I preparing for the next show but I'm not satisfied. And I have not the courage to work harder and better.

My thoughts for my great friend that I'm having roommate for five weeks in seeking an internship as part of his training in my city. I can not wait to have it under my "ceiling". I love him very much and I would not be alone.

I put on a wetsuit and take a cold shower queue. Do not think that please, it's just humor schizophrenic.

Yours.

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