The Nonlocal Quantum Hologram

My family has a text message thread. Everyone responds to the cute things others send to that thread. Except if I’m the sender. I may be overanalyzing this, or over-valuing the content that I share. But no matter the case, my subjective experience is that I feel like an unwelcome member of that little text party.

In my throws of on-again, off-again psychosis I believed completely false and ridiculous things about other people that may have come out in speech or been alluded to in action. And while my use of a substance may have ultimately triggered those psychotic episodes, I can no more be blamed for the contents of my nightmares as I can for what I believed while in those psychotic states. And, just like any normal dream or nightmare, I remember very little, if anything, about them. I suspect somethings happened, but I don’t have a certain or solid enough memory to know what happened.

So the people around me see me as this person who acted beyond bizarrely, who said terrible things to them, but then a month later is trying to be all chummy and friendly like nothing happened without acknowledging, or apologizing for, whatever horrible things I said or did. And they don’t bring it up because they have no idea that I don’t remember anything about it. I said it, or I did it, so I must have meant it. Why would they suspect otherwise? They have no experience with this sort of thing, nothing to help them understand what was happening in my head.

And all the while I’m wondering why all the people I love just don’t talk to me anymore. Or want to spend time with me. Or even reply to my texts.

For example, I posted a few adorable, funny pictures of Mom as a kid to the family text thread. Objectively cute and comment-worthy pictures of our mom as a teenager. No one replied. I can’t help but think that if my sister shared those same photos, people would be all sorts of talking about how awesome Mom’s bellbottoms were, or how adorably silly her orthodontia-riddled smile looked, or anything about her hair.

Or how pretty she is.

Every post from my brother, every picture from my sister, every comment from my parents, and my phone blows up for the next 10 minutes as everyone responds on the thread. It annoys me sometimes that my phone won’t shut up as everyone responds to the latest news or photo. But it’s me who shared these photos of Mom. And so Mom’s memories get the same cold shoulder that I get. And I’m not okay with that.

So I stop contributing to the family conversation. And then I think maybe my family thinks I’m ignoring the family again. And in my head this vicious cycle of analyzing, overanalyzing, and then self-pity goes into a death spiral.

At least no one else has to be annoyed that my texts to the family thread causes their phone to blow up as everyone else chimes in with replies. At least my texts to the family thread doesn’t disrupt everyone else’s day like theirs does mine. I guess that’s a plus.

I just don’t know how to ask for help, or how to bring it up without sounding like a self-pitying, overanalyzing, needy person who wants attention he doesn’t deserve from people who have already written him off.

But maybe I’m just overanalyzing a non-situation. Maybe there’s nothing wrong and people were just busy that day. I imagine that if I actually asked about it that would be the excuse. “Oh, I loved the photos! I’m glad you shared them! I was just super busy that day and forgot to respond.”

I’ve heard it before.

Whatever the case may be, I see myself slowly accepting an increasingly interminable loneliness, even while being among other people who (used to) love me. I might as well go shoot up and let the voices take over my head again. They sure as fuck never ignore me. Sometimes I’m even lucky enough to get a good conversation out of them. Even if I don’t remember what we talk about.