Great. Got a text from my apartment complex. They may do a unit inspection because we can’t stop smoking. My way of stopping is to not have it in the house. I can’t do that. He has the willpower of a monk and wears me down until I cave. And he’s going to look like the victim! He’s so in control of himself that he deliberately plays dumb to set me off so he can wrangle control of the situation.

I’m mentally ill. That is self-evident. I’m being used by a master manipulator for supply. But is that real, or is he just pretending to be awful to me in skillful manners that make me out to be the bad guy? Is he CIA? What he says and what he does makes sense. But I also have to contend with the fact that he may have a screw loose? I can’t do anything. Doctors. Police. His mom. I’m alone, I feel, and while his mom invited me to cone over, she deceived me, slightly, playing dumb a little bit, as if she were aware what my life partner is doing is benefitting me in that it gives me chances to resist anger and strengthen my prefrontal cortex.

And I look like the devil. I want to kill myself, but I won’t. I just have to be better. Keep trying. I can’t give in like I have these past few days. I need to be stronger. But I am so hurt and tired and scared and caught in the MKULTRA that I can’t manifest my intentions. I am dysregulated. I see a doctor once a month. She throws pills at me. They help slightly in some ways, but these are tremendous life problems I’m dealing with. Help. Help. Help.