Originally posted by GGG
Quid dicebas de me, cinaede? Tibi narro ut auctus sim super omnes Praetorianos, ut permultas incursiones contra Carthaginienses fecerim, utque CCC hostes vere interfecerim. Educatus de bello simioso sum atque augustissimus Primus Pilus in exercitu Romano. Nihil te puto nisi hostia. Te delebo tanta cum fortitudine ut nemo parem noverit, mehercule. Putasne ut electrice id dicere impune possis? Reputa, pathice. Cum loquimur nuntium mitto ad gregem curiosorum et locus tuus indagatur, ut debeas te praeparare contra tempestatem, vermicule. Tempestas enim quae delebit foedam vitam tuam. Delendus es, puer. Possum ubivis ire, quandocumque decet, teque interficere DCC per artes manibus inermibus. Non modo educatus de certamine inermi sum, sed etiam imperium habeo super omnes vires exercitus Romani, atque eis utar ut culus tuus miser deletus sit ex continente, cacator. Si scire potuisses quod ultioni tibi effecturum facetum dictum tuum fuisset, fortasse tacuisses. Sed nec potuisti nec tacuisti, et nunc poenas das, stulte. Furorem cacabo in te et is te merget. Delendus es, puer.
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Originally posted by DietPiano
It's difficult to try to figure out what punishments should be for the mentally ill, especially schizophrenics and manic bipolarites. When I had my first manic episode I thought I was a prophet of God supposed to write a new book of the bible and started driving 70mph to the place (wherever that was) that God was leading me to. When I started having second thoughts, I thought he was telling me (I could hear him) to look into the sun to blind myself in order to prove to me that he was real. I thought I was doomed to go to hell (he told me so and gave me, what I now know is a severe migraine) pain for the time being as punishment.
Also when I got arrested on a 6 strip of high potency lsd, I was eyeballing the officer's gun like none other thinking my mom was gonna come in any second and try to shoot him with his gun because she was screaming outside saying how I was gonna get 100 years without parole and how I would have to leave the country (she wasn't). I thought long and hard about whether or not I would do it instead, but my rational brain kicked it long enough for me to reconsider grabbing for an officer's weapon. I was yelling at them after every question they asked me after I was handcuffed. I was ultimately cooperative though, thank God.
Obviously, if not for broken mental integrity/hallucinating, I would never have thought any of that shit.
Clearly hallucinations or not, the public has to be protected from danger, but I think with documented psychosis (which I did not have, personally) I think psych ward/rehab, even if against will, is a more fit setting for the health of the person, as well as is a consideration that some of their actions are really not their fault and prison is a bit harsh sentencing wise.
Don't know how I missed this post, but I had something like this happen recently. I know I'm going to regret posting this, but here goes.
Getting really REALLY drunk January 2 was the last thing I remembered, but I was woken up approximately four days later by these two songs being played on repeat over and over and over at a very high volume. I was stone cold sober, though feeling VERY hungover
I also occasionally heard what sounded like your typical pornographic sounds.
I checked all of my electronics, none of them were on.
"My sister" was there (though I never saw her for more than a few seconds at a time), and explained to me how, after getting fired for poor attendance, I had abandoned work to become a drug dealer, decided I wanted to keep her with me, killed everybody she talked to, raped her, and told her that if she tried to tell anyone, I'd inflict more harm upon her. She said that the reason I was hearing those songs was that somebody in my apartment complex had discovered videos I had put on the internet of my exploits that had used those songs as background music, and they were hoping somebody would recognize them and either question them or open an investigation. She also said that they were playing the music through my car's Bluetooth system, which they were able to access because I had left the keys in my car recently.
I went out to my car, and sure enough, the trunk was open, and there were devices I didn't recognize that were paired with my car's Bluetooth system (I still to this day don't know what that device is, or who did it. It's still paired)
She said that they were able to wire my audio system to feed from the battery so that it would still play, even if the keys were not in the ignition. I kept begging her to talk to me face to face, but she refused, saying I would rape her again if she did.
(Spoiler: My sister is the only one I've had in my life that I could confide in because we had to grow up in the same horrible mess and, though we originally fought a lot, we grew closer after we were subjected to the same shitty treatment by the rest of the family, and we had only each other as witnesses. Because of this, she's the only family member I've talked to for my entire adult life. She later said that she was never there, and was avoiding me because of recent erratic behavior.)
It pissed me off at first, but eventually I realized there was nothing I could do about it, and went back to my apartment. I looked at my phone. It said January 27 (it was actually 1/7, and my phone had been destroyed by a recent dive into a nearby lake "to evade police" according to eyewitnesses. My phone was thus dead during this whole ordeal, but what I saw made me believe I had abandoned all previous responsibilities, and I tried to adapt to what she said was my new life)
Back at the apartment, she played me audio of videos I had made talking about my love of the 10mm round, along with what sounded like numerous demonstrations of its lethality with those songs playing in the background. Horrified with these revelations I considered jumping off the roof of my apartment complex.
I must've stood on that roof for two hours, but eventually she talked me out of it. Horrified with my recent behavior I vowed to make it right, that whoever it was in those videos was not me, and I would from then on set out to prove it.
Long story short, she decided that she didn't trust me any more, and called the police on me. They showed up, and them, along with everybody in the neighborhood, came out with guns pointed at me.
I thought, ok, if I was going to die anyway, I might as well have some fun with it. So I circled my apartment complex talking about how I didn't want to live anyway and yelling at the people I saw, whether they were real or not, to go ahead and shoot me, then barraged them with insults when they wouldn't.
Eventually, someone called the actual cops, and they showed up and arrested me. I remember yelling at someone about "she's lying, I wouldn't do something like that," but the next thing I remember was waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. I was still hallucinating the entire time I was in the hospital. From the window, I watched a four hour long Nightwish concert, a couple of exotic car shows, as well as watching the entire hospital get burned to the ground, but they wouldn't let me out of the bed the entire time so there was nothing I could do about it. I also got to feel like I was getting cut into pieces, which caused me to start a "final words speech" which eventually got the head doctor called on me. Thinking he was in on everything, I answered all of his questions as absurdly as I could, only realizing I was imagining it when he told me to look at myself. Upon seeing that there was no blood, I concluded that I had imagined everything.
My last day, the hallucinations FINALLY started to fade, and I finally realized that none of that shit actually happened.
I don't remember my mother being there at all, but apparently she was there for most of it. The few people I talk to all showed me text messages implying that I had bought a 1/4 ounce of meth.
I don't know if that's true or not, but judging from the diagnosis I got in the hospital (Rhabdomyolysis) and bank statements, it probably is. Now the question is, what happened first, the insanity or the drugs? I had been almost completely clean for almost four years before this happened. But at the same time, my mother has apparently been REALLY bad on drugs the last few months, and had talked me into buying more despite my mental state getting worse and worse. She's now serving time for drug charges.
Now nobody in my apartment complex will talk to me, and anyone that sees me looks down and ignores me.
I wish I was making this shit up.
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walking back from my lunch break at work (i usually walk a couple blocks away and eat and take drugs and stuff near where all these stereotypical yuppies live) i saw what I thought was a meth pipe with a frosted and fully loaded bowl face down on the ground like someone just sat it there. not gonna lie, the very first thought that ran through my head was TAKE THAT SHIT TO THE BATHROOM AND SMOKE IT ALL TO THE FACE THEN GO FINISH WORK but then i picked it up and it was actually a cheap weed pipe that had been turned upside down and the glass was frosted white (and it was empty) so i just left it
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Originally posted by GGG
Viper is definitely a top contender. Cleaning his loaded gun while fucked up on benzos and shot himself on cam.
Tbf, I use to play with my guns all the time on TC. There's really only one (two) rules you need to remember when fucked up and playing with firearms (which is coincidentally the same as the rules when you're not drunk and on heroin and klonopin):
1. Make sure you know if the gun is, in fact, loaded and/or chambered. 2. If it is either of those things, just dont point it at stuff that doesn't need an extra hole.
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It’s a misspelling. In truth, people who say this want a world of just desert. They are Martian agents sent to terraform our planet to be suitable for their habitation by influencing policy, and they are spreading this phrase because they are mistaken on the decision making capacity of the electorate. They have also never played the game “telephone” because they are telepathic, and therefore aren’t aware of how meaning can get lost in the process of speaking and listening. It’s not going according to their plan.
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