| Current mood: |  confused |
| Current music: | ... |
Reality is Confusing
I'll cut the crap:
 I am Tony Santi. This is the name given to me by my family and the came people used to call me by 2 years ago. I think I might be losing my grip on reality. Upon my studies, I have managed to isolate the possibility as being somwhere in between schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder. I will reread this entry and bold everything I believe not be me, but Natas writing. I have been too sleepy to function properly lately. I have also been quenching this thirst for sleep by take naps; long naps in the middle of the day. The problem here is that I have done nothing to make myself sleepy. I doubt Natas controls my body when I sleep because my family is down stairs, and I am almost positive they would notice something. On the contrary, I believe I am fully conscience when he says what he needs to say. I have distinct recollection of fabricating (making up) Natas about a year and a half ago in a conversation with my girlfriend while she wasn't there. This scared me because he started talking out loud to me, saying things I am almost confident I wasn't saying. I am sure the fear was natural. I locked him up in my head not knowing how else to deal with the problem. It was not until today that I realized he may have outsmarted me. Looking back on some of my articles, I realized that even though I recall writing it, it isn't me at all. In reality I am a rather reserved fellow who enjoys a good laugh, but not at the expense of pain. What I seem to have done is created an alter-ego that writes my anti-blogs for me and expresses the emotions that I don't feel. I am not horny all the time.
I woke up today after a bizarre nap in which I dreamed of Danielle Baker (not in a sexual way, I assure you) and I woke up scared. Apparently some time in that dream I had come to realize that my personality is separating. There are times when I am cruel, vulgar and funny; and then there are times when I logical, kind, and mature. These emotions were all one before Natas, but I noticed in the course of my dream that they are separating. They are moving apart slowly, but they are definitely separating. I am becoming two people: The Tony Sama you know is the fake, I am Tony Santi. Natas has taken my name and thrown a rather jumbled version of his own on the end. Originally I picked the name because "sama" is a Japanese title for "lord." At least that is what I have thought. I think he is smarter than I am, but I also believe that I possess control of my body that his portion of my brain cannot yet touch. I read somewhere that schizophrenia is degenerative, so I expect him to be like a cancer. He may, sometime in the future, get the better of me. That is enough about Natas though, he is just one of the roots of my problems.
Now for the real kicker. I am confused about the truth. I honestly do not know if I am making up that I am making him up. This is why I haven't told my mom, because I know she cares and would get help as soon as possible. I want to know I really have a problem before getting help for it. I also like not being normal. I don't even know if my friends are real. Actually, I believe my school friends are real, just not the people I don't talk to. I tested one day if I could get the attention of a popular cheer leader. I began talking directly to her in between classes and I did not even get a glance. She continued talking to her friends, so I tried to talk to her friends, and got the same response. I then through a wad of paper in their direction; again nothing. I kid you not, I then stood on the table and spun around and not a single head turned. Perhaps they are real and just butt holes, or perhaps my mind isn't giving them full personalities.
The thing I am worried about is not that I know I am losing my grip, it is that I don't care that I am losing my grip. If I cared I could pull myself out, but I don't. I don't want help. I like it. Reality is hard to deal with. I don't do drugs, I don't cut myself, I don't listen to rage rock, and I hardly ever turn the lights on. What I do in here is sleep, talk to my girlfriend (I know she is real because I knew her before I Natas came), work out, and break things. Maybe this my minds way of compensating for boredom. Another reason I haven't told my mom is because I will enjoy the attention too much, and I don't want to be one of those pansies who makes crap up as a cry for attention. I told my youth pastor to pray for me, but on second thought, the feeling of not knowing is a rush that I like. I know God can help me sort things out, but quite honestly, I want to let my mind degenerate before I try to fix it. I have never seen Natas. I am almost positive my friends are real. I am aware I talk to myself. I think I might be making this all up for attention, but the fact that I am mentioning that makes me think I am not. I do not want to lie about my mental health. This all might just spring from my overactive imagination. I can promise you though, if I ever lose control of my body, see Natas, see anyone that other people think isn't real. I will get help. Now, time to reread and bold the stuff Natas wrote.
Quote of the Day Stolen From Bash:
"Warmaster_Horus: But some of the stuff you can do with mayo is good
NiTessine: Yes. Like assassinations.
Mithran: You assassinate people with mayo?
NiTessine: Nobody ever suspects mayo."
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