Jellyhead Radio and the Scratchpad from Hell

Some days your brain is soup. Some days it’s concrete. Today mine is both—a sticky tumble of wet cement and electrostatic jelly swirling around like a demonic blancmange on spin cycle.

And let’s not forget the tinnitus. That oh-so-charming eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee that makes me feel like I’m forever tuned to a pirate radio station broadcasting from Satan’s sock drawer.

Is it a message from the divine? A transmission from the veil? Perhaps. But I forgot to pay for the decoder, so it’s just bloody static in my skull.

My eyes? Seeing things. Unexplainable things. Optician said I was "fine". Yeah—fine. As in "fine for someone actively phasing in and out of reality like a dodgy antenna from a 1970s TV shop in Slough."

The mists roll in. Not poetic mists—these bastards come like memory locusts, stripping every useful thought from my mind and leaving behind a soggy field of what-the-fuck.

The Itch. Oh yes, that itch. Not pain. Not even discomfort. A curse. A divine punishment. Same place. Every bloody time. Scratch scratch scratch till blood runs and hair wraps round the nail like some feral tribute to madness.

You don’t feel it immediately. No, that would be merciful. It waits. It watches. And then it writhes beneath your skin like it’s got a schedule to keep.

I’m dizzy. Sick. Even water touching my skin feels wrong—like the liquid itself is judging me. I scream into pillows now. It's my new therapy. Pillows don’t judge. Pillows just muffle.

Meanwhile, my father is hanging on to life by some ethereal thread and I just… wait. Wait for a message. Wait for a call. Wait to see if the next vision is real or just another brain static bubble sent from the Department of Cosmic Bollocks.

I am tired. I am haunted. I am heavy.

And I am still here.

                            !!DISCLAIMER !!

This blog shares raw and personal experiences with mental and physical health. Some posts may be triggering. I'm not a professional - just writing my truth. Please don't take this as medical advice.

        “The views in this post are based on my personal      
          experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”   

            “By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
                    By storm and silence, I survive.”

      @goblinbloggeruk  - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk