Is it normal to think that pictures can see you?
I just want someone to tell me what it means to think that pictures can see you, and rationally know there’s nothing to make that true, but still I can’t stop thinking it. It’s written permanently on my brain, this is a fact, the pictures can see you. Their eyes can see you and their ears can hear you so even when the lights are off they can still tell what you’re up to. And they remember everything and form opinions of you, of your body and your actions, the way you act and what you say. When you lie and when you boast in front of your friends, they know the truth. So you have to lie to them too, put on an act, so that they don’t know what you’re really like and they can’t pass judgement. You have to cover the eyes. Once the eyes are covered the ears can’t hear and the memory can’t record. And then there’s relief. But soon I get lonely again, sometimes I want the pictures to see, just to impress them, to show them me and what me is. To me they’re just as much as other people, just like other people, sometimes I want them around and sometimes I don’t.
Then I’d want someone to tell me what it means to suddenly be aware of yourself, almost as if you are another person inside yourself. My awareness sinks inside from the shoulders, about 2 and a half centimeteres, and I am suddenly acutely aware of my body and how it looks and how I act, what my voice sounds like and the things I say. And then deeply ashamed of all of that. And I have to run and move, to try and get away from the self my inside self has suddenly seen. To talk to someone, to touch something, to just do something to make my inside me attatch to the outside again and make this horrible feeling go away. Just to be one person again. But it’s sometimes too hard, after all you can’t run away from yourself. It’s not split personality, it’s more like two of me, me seeing me the way me would see me if I wasn’t me. Fuck it’s hateful. My shoulders just there, but they’re not my shoulders but they are.
Or if someone could tell me they’ve had the same horror at imagining a grain of sand as heavy as the world or a ship as light as a feather. If these thoughts, or thoughts like these come to me when my eyes are closed or it’s pitch black I have to leap out of bed and turn on the light, wipe it from my mind. It disgusts me. Such a heavy small thing. Incomprehensible. Such a light, weightless object of mind-blowing dimensions. How? Yet in the pitch black, these things are there in my hands and I want to run from them and scream. And I have no idea why.
And most recently of all and only once, I want to know what a distant screaming in my ears means. Just once. When I sat playing Portal 2, distinct screaming came inside my ears, something I couldn’t control or stop. I’m not sure how long it lasted, could’ve been a minute, and I couldn’t tell if it was one or many voices screaming but what I do know is it brought on the same exact horror and panic as the inner self-awareness, the heavy miniscule thing and the colossal weightless thing. It was disgusting.
Is it normal to think these things?