Mei'm taken down by amnesia so there's no point in writing and a seizure feels like it's on the tip of my actions and if i run out of adderall it could be the last time i can atleast use my skill of writing. i have to admit now something is wrong. It's fucking 2015.

Me- I shiver at my reality without my pill. I only sleep and feel like i'm being smothered by hopelessness in a Manhattan hood. I don't find i can write. The ability to sit througj t.v. with enduring the pain of my eye paused and inside invisible ruptures that may have psychological origins is gone; I can't grow THE SKILL to stay still and gain 30 minutes of Girls to feel sane. T.v. is trainning grounds and no longer just a placement in the industry My tears of missing my friends at a season ending of Girls in the snow keeps me warm as I approach to reenter people, apart of my post 47 Metropolitian Williamsburg , Brooklyn daily Occupy, gone are people like Sarah Bradham being local (now in L.a.) and I face the damage from my it's not t.v. it's Hbo journey out of people. The schizophrenia told me everything I wrote was published on the internet in 2008 and endless days homeless unknowing how to survive talking to Michael Bloomberg through my body in Boarders being forced by his office to steal small notebooks to write on for little nemo on Hbo are wasted. Gone are these days i look up actors in the Dvd sectiom for Michael Bloomberg to pay ungodly amounts of money (i supposedly had a bank account under scientific project title a largest bank acc in the world-so i had no reason to worry about being homeless) - gone are my real notes from Josh's car and future novels (and later films i'd make at 23) dead is my belief i'm paid to be taken advantage of/electronically somebody watches me in Times Square). Did you know? You can get caught for one notebook at Duane Reade and it still counts the same as an iPhone on your record as a pety larceny misdameaner?; Gone is the belief that the former mayor watches over you, with a weird gap of a relationship you had with yourself. You can call it a Ghost but it's you in all atheism and bank account analysis. Gone is the belief that you're famous for graduating The School of Visual Arts in 2008 in a Hell thesis year in Brooklyn with school president David Rhodes (son of School of Visual Arts founder Silias Rhodes) on forecastmazy.blogspot.com Gone is your year:1 equipment from youtube.com/forecastmazyfilms now your just lost in post of your regularity before schizophrenia hit you in 2007 on livejournal.com/~forecastmazy Me-it's cold and everyone from the School of Visual Arts season:1 who were our friends supposedly pretending they didn't know-we-were-on-a-show are gone; the very reason we believed we were surely sane about the show (because of friends ran it) very events like when we almost let the show break us down when we freak out on shrooms in Queens of being on a t.v. show in the forecastmazy.blogspot.com era and Sean Connell promises us we're on a show (breaking N.y.c. Truman Show continuity) was really (to calm us the fuck down when we were having a break down from missing Adderall days) Me-memory gone again and the seizure is tempting me to go out and get newspapers (demanding it CONTROLLING my brain flow) the seizure will leave my explanation and Christopher Mastronardi in 2007. In a year my femminsm cried. The About Me:still the same almost ten years later. My mom got me out of the apple store and i don't have the heart to tell her what happens if i run out of adderall (-and what a doctor switch really means).