I tried my best. And I suck at computers, so I don't know how to edit out the mistakes I made. The one on the top left is the best copy I could make of the stamp, just ignore the failures. Let me know if this rings any bells, because it's freaking me out right now...

What the fuck is this?

Okay. First things first. The pills DONT match up with the images. The images are round and have a line through them, the ones in the bottle are more pill-shaped and white.

But I'm not worried about that now. There was something on the inside of the cap. A stamp of some kind. One I recognize, but don't remember from where. This stamp scares me, and I don't know why... I'd take a picture of it... But our only camera got lost during the winter, and we have kind of been neglecting to replace it.

But what I do have is a scanner. I'll spend some time trying to recreate the stamp, and I'll see if I can get it to you guys.

So this means more sleeping pills for me tonight, I think.

A question

Okay, I've spent a lot of time thinking, and I've come to a decision.

That night I knocked myself out I had a bad hallucination. If my posts are to be believed, I imagined what you people call "The Choir."A grey shadow-thing always on the edge of my field of vision. I probably also kept hearing the whispering, but I don't know if they changed their message that night or not...

Anyway, that hallucination scared me. Badly. I still don't know why I knocked myself out or what I was trying to write on those papers, but everything points to one VERY bad trip. Since then, I've been on this regiment of sleeping medication, which frankly isn't the best for my body. But I don't want to have to deal with the hallucinations...

So I want to ask you all a question. You seem wary of these pills the docs gave me. I'm kind of wary myself, since Chelsea and I have never heard of psychiatrists just handing these things out. there wasn't a prescription, they just said "take one of these a night, and you'll be fine." The label says Haloperidol, which Wikipedia says is a fairly generic anti-psychotic. Anyway, I'm going to face my fears and open the bottle, if just to check the pills in the bottle against images pulled from Google. My question is that if the pills seem real, should I try taking one to see its effects?

What happened that night

Okay, so Chelsea had some interesting things to tell me about that night.

She came back home to find me passed out on the kitchen floor. With a frying pan in one hand and some crumpled up papers in the other. Apparently the reason I can't clearly remember anything from that night was because I bludgeoned myself with the pan until I gave myself what must have been a pretty nasty concussion. She said I was bleeding lightly (for a head wound), but she was able to stop it. It kind of explains why the side of my temple has been so fucking tender lately. Thank God for her nursing training. She kept the papers, but for the most part, they're scribbles. It seems like I was trying to draw or write something, and kept scratching it out. I couldn't make anything out on the papers, but it seems I had wasted two sheets front and back with the nonsense. Then crumpled them up and held them while beating myself on the head with the pan.

Those must have been some bad hallucinations. Kind of glad I can't really recall what they were.

Ugh

I'm RIGHT HERE. I can hear you bastards, you know.

Whispering won't help, I can hear you talking!

Bleh. Somehow word has gotten around that the docs gave me anti-psychotics, so now the rumor is that I'm a schizo. Of course, they won't say it to my face, instead, they whisper about it around the water cooler, forgetting that this room doesn't absorb sound very well. Bastards.

...

I'm debating whether I should ask Chelsea if she knows anything about what happened that one night where I freaked out. I still can't remember much of anything after writing that weird post, and she must have come back after that. Maybe she knows something?

A list of medication

Umm... The docs gave me this stuff. Had it in their cabinet, actually. Which surprised me, since they're psychiatrists... and I thought medicine had to have a prescription, and taken to a real doctor to get filled.

But whatever, they gave me these pills. And for some reason, I really, REALLY don't want to take them.

I really don't know why... It's a generic anti-psychotic medicine. But something about it...

It fucking scares me.

It scared me ever since they opened that cabinet. There's something, and it's scaring me, and I don't know what it is.

LOOKING at the fucking bottle scares me. There's a connection I'm not entirely making here, and it's freaking me out. I mean, SOMETHING is wrong, but I don't know what it is.

I got some sleeping pills a while ago to help me get through the nights. Been taking them at 9:00 each night, before the whispering starts, and they knock me out long before 10. I think I'd rather keep to that regiment, if it's okay.

Sorry docs, but I just can't do this.

What the shit happened?

I'm having a bit of trouble remembering what happened last night. I recall reading about something called the Choir. I remember being scared out of my mind at something, and then something happened and then I passed out... again.

Chelsea's back. Said she went to visit the docs in person last night. They said that they have been following my ramblings, and consulting with their colleagues. They encouraged me to take the next couple of days off, and they might be able to give me some medication to help stop the hallucinations when I see them Tuesday.

Also, I read the posts I made last night. I can't recall ever seeing anything like what I described, but in all likelihood, that's what I thought I saw. In retrospect, I'm probably just hallucinating, and reading those stories just made me hallucinate more.

I'll go to the docs, I'll try their medication, and maybe this will all go away.

Oh god...

10:00. On the dot. Whispers started again. I saw something.

Corner of my left eye. No matter how I turn, it's able to stay RIGHT THERE.

I don't know how to describe it. I can't really see it all that well.

Mirrors won't show it to me, and every once in a while it moves to remind me it's there.

I've sat in silence for several hours now, Chelsea... I don't fucking know WHERE she is.

Not a sound reaches my ears except those damned whispers. They get clearer and clearer by the night, saying those horrible things.

I'm scared...

Fuck This

Okay, this is stupid. My sleep schedule is fucked beyond belief by the whispering (I passed out once they died down at like 8 this morning). The docs are unresponsive. All my calls get directed to their voicemail, and now they must have a hundred angry/freaked out messages on that thing.

I did some research. The closest thing this comes to is schizophrenia, but there are other symptoms, too. Pure auditory hallucinations alone do not make a schizo.

So here's the deal. somebody replied with some shit about a choir, or something. I'd normally just chalk it up to random trolling, but that other guy, one of the people who actually follows this shit (and has been following it for a while, I think), posted something I didn't quite get.

"punxtrJan 20, 2012 01:39 PM

Let's hope he reads that sentence exactly as I do..."

This just doesn't seem right. I'm getting a feeling something's up, and it isn't random trolls. You people know something, and you aren't exactly being generous with this information.

Perhaps I am really schizophrenic, and these are the delusions talking.

Either way, it doesn't change the fact you're being pretty damn cryptic with your shit, and I'm not getting anything from it. Explain yourselves.

Something strange

Okay, I was going to write this off as a coincidence earlier, but now I'm worried.

As I was leaving for work, I swear I heard Chelsea say "I hate you." Naturally, I asked her what she said, and she replied with "I love you."

No big deal, I missed a word. Sleepless nights tend to weaken the mind.

Then I got a call. Just now. A client. First words: "You're not worth anything." "What was that ma'am?" "I said I'm looking for something."

Twice in a row doesn't usually constitute a pattern, but this is freaking me out. Especially after what happened last night.

Docs, where the fuck are you? You usually answer my emails, but now you won't even pick up the phone. I have no idea what's going on, and I'm pretty sure this isn't a symptom of schizophrenia anymore. I looked up the definition. I'm not catatonic, I'm not having any trouble with emotions, and I'm able to word these sentences perfectly. But I need help. I need to know what the fuck is going on with me!

Goddammit

None of the nearby churches performs exorcisms anymore! Fucking great.

Chelsea's getting worried... I think I'll sit with her for a while. God knows I'm not going to get any sleep.

FUCK no.

Nononononono.

The whispering. I figured out what they were saying. Just...

No. No no no no no.

Fuck the exterminator, I'm calling a fucking exorcist.

Perhaps the grace of god will save us me from this.

What the hell?

This is weird...

I hear the rats again. They're early tonight. But... I think I might be hearing things.

The squeaking doesn't sound like squeaking anymore... It's weird... Like some sort of quiet, muffled screaming.


And the scratching. I think... It sounds almost like whispering. It seems like English...

I'm worried the docs were right... I think I might actually be becoming schizophrenic.

I don't like this one fucking bit, but that whispering... I need to find out what it's saying...

Strike two

The docs did something really weird tonight. I thought they would be angry (or at least disappointed) that I didn't get that post up like I said I would, but they suddenly don't seem to care. Last week all they wanted me to talk about was my mother and my childhood, trying to find some sort of Freudian source of my anger, I guess, and when the session ended, they said I should put up a post talking more about my childhood so they can build off of it for this week.

But they seemed really interested in the rat problem we've been having. REALLY interested. Seriously, the only reason I put that here is because I got sucked in to the fucking blogging, not because it was related to my problems at all. And you assholes seem to think it's related somehow.

I'm not schizophrenic. I'm not hearing voices telling me what to do, I'm not hallucinating, I'm hearing goddamn rats! Maybe if the rats were telling me to kill Chelsea because she's cheating on me, I'd be worried, but it's just random scratching and squeaking. Why in the world would I be hallucinating THAT?!

I'm going to remind you that I'm the one paying you, I'm the one expecting results, and if you resort to stupid bullshit like this, I WILL stop paying you. I don't care if my job is on the line, if you think you'll leech a penny off of me through these antics, by prolonging my problems, you will find yourself one client short.

This is your final warning. I'll work on that post about my mother, but don't expect me to do stupid shit unless there is a GOOD reason for it.

Well, that was a waste of time and money

The exterminator came yesterday, but couldn't find any evidence of an infestation. No holes, no droppings, nothing at all to suggest that rats have taken residence or even ever lived here. Of course, the house was devoid of the scratching and squeaks while he worked, but after he left, sometime late in the evening, it started up again.

I talked to Chelsea about it earlier, and she said she didn't notice any noises during the day. It seems it only happened late at night, after she falls asleep. It didn't really surprise me that the sounds woke me, but not her, since I'm a fairly light sleeper, and she's slept through tornado sirens before. So I woke her. And she said she didn't hear anything. She may be a deep sleeper, but she's not deaf... I don't really know what's going on, but I'll think of something later.

I discovered that, while extremely uncomfortable, wearing earplugs helps with sleeping. So for the first night in a while, I've gotten some relatively good sleep. I'm still a little off, but I'll do some thinking and try to get that post in for the docs later tonight.

Small Update

Just a quick post so the docs won't try and bug me today. I wanted the exterminator over yesterday, but Chelsea was a bit leery of having someone over on Friday the 13th... It seems like a stupid superstition, but I guess it's not a big enough deal to bother with. The exterminator will be over later this afternoon, and I'll try to get a post up tomorrow if I can get a good night's sleep tonight.

Tired

Yeah, I know it's a very bad idea to be doing this while at work, but I need to do SOMETHING.

The docs drilled me yesterday. Question after question after question after unending question. They wanted to know about my childhood, my days in school, my love life, my parents, my brothers. They wanted to know everything that's set me off recently, and it seemed like they wanted to know everything that's ever pissed me off in the least bit.

So, naturally, they wanted me to blog about anything I didn't think about in the session yesterday.

Trouble is, I think I exhausted myself. Or rather, I'm simply exhausted in general. Between the New Year's fight, my coworkers' newfound fear, the everyday annoyances I get in these damned callers, and a recent lack of restful sleep, I seem to have just tired myself out. It's gotten to the point where I'd rather let the stupid shit go over my head than even attempt to get worked up about it.

So there's something for you, docs. A tired man is not an angry man. Or at least not an outwardly angry man. Problem is, I hate being in this state so fucking much. I don't have the energy to lift a finger, I feel constantly sick, and all I really want is to get some sleep.

Oh yeah, that's a development I don't think I've ever gotten to you internet people. I think our house has rats, or something. Every night, there are these noises keeping me from sleeping peacefully. Sometimes it's scratching, sometimes it's squeaking, but it happens off and on. All. Night. Long. At first, it just annoyed me because it woke me, but last night I couldn't get any sleep whatsoever. I'm going to call an exterminator this afternoon and see about getting this house bug bombed, or something.

But yeah, I'm sorry docs, but I just can't get your post up. Maybe once the rats are gone and I've been able to get some rest, then I'll think about anything I missed.

Oh yeah, before I forget. Mr. Revelation. That was a dick move, posting that comment.

This sucks

Okay, so I was right when I thought this week would be bad,

First of all, those three guys I decked on New Year's were not people I knew or worked with, so I guess that's a plus. However, the story did end up spreading around, and people mostly avoided me in fear of getting attacked themselves. The friends who were with me during the event didn't really want to speak with me, and the one who invited me didn't talk much, either. Assholes...

My boss gave me a talking to, and called the docs up to join him. They assured him that they were doing their best, and that I was making strides in my therapy, and then boss basically said that my job hinges on their therapy.

The docs themselves seemed to be a bit more open than the others. They assured me that the episode wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. I had a bit too much to drink, and went a little crazy. They said that was normal. But then they said that if I want to make sure the therapy works, I'll have to lay off the booze for a while. Fucking great, I can't drink for who knows how long, my coworkers think I'm a monster about to go on a rampage at any moment, and my boss is threatening to fire me.

Yeah, this isn't really boding well for me at all...

Well fuck.

I woke up with the worst hangover in recent history, and of course I remember nothing from the previous night. I look around and find that post from last night. I'm logged in and the Notes page is the first thing I see. Apparently I wrote that, posted it, and passed out. Hopefully.

I asked Chelsea what happened, and she said my friends dragged me home after I got into a big fight at wherever the hell we were. When I came home I sat down and started babbling for an hour or so before walking into the bedroom and not coming out until this morning. She checked in on me every once in a while until I was out cold, and decided she wouldn't risk waking me up and fell asleep on the couch in the living room.

She said I didn't say much while babbling. It was mostly the overly happy bullshit I usually say while drunk.

I showed her my drunken post and she said that that's pretty much what happened. She did say that my friends supposedly tried to stop the fight, but that I was too drunk to notice. I have no idea who the guys were that I fought, nor can I remember the fight itself, but I'm sure this will come back to bite me in the ass somehow.

I go back to work tomorrow, and I go to the docs on Tuesday. I have a sinking feeling that this week won't be nearly as good as last week was.

Oh man, I love these people. So. Much.

My friends are great people. They are just amazing. They really know how to party.

So they said I could hang with them for New Years. We went to some places and had a few beers. Had some great fun.

These guys came up to us and tried to get us to leave. Said some shit about us. But there were only three of them, so they were easy. My friends were standing there cheeering me on the entire time.

Anyway, I took those assholes out, and my friends helped me get back home. They really are great fun people.

And Chelsea is great, too. She was there for me when I came home. She is always there for me. She is such a great person.

So I think I might be ramblig a bit, but I gotta say how AMAZING these people are. They are great, fun, amazing people and I wouldn’t trade them in for anyhting. And I wanna wish everybody out there a happy new year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!