For a short while, during the Christmas season, I journaled while living with my partner’s parents in peaceful, beach lined Sussex County in Eastern Delaware. His stepmother innocently gifted me with a notebook, encouraging me to write. I was mostly standoffish and elusive with the rest of the denizens in the beach home. She picked up on my internal disturbance and thought that writing might alleviate my apparent agitation by kindly giving me a distracting focus.
While I appreciated the sentiment, my mind was filled with torturous bewilderment and anger. At this time, I firmly believed I was the government’s child, conceived to fulfill a critical role as part of a top-secret operation. I seethed with resentment as I believed they were attempting to affect my mind with subliminal messages, seemingly chance encounters with undercover secret agents, and purposely kept me in the dark about a secret society and the hideous sex-fueled ritual I was to endure as part of my induction.
Rather than writing about the serenity of the ocean side town or create poetry in appreciation of the delicate cattails that gracefully swayed in the marsh breeze, I wrote of the holidays in general, specifically my resentment regarding the actual secret function of decorations.
Below is the excerpt from my journal:
My holidays stopped in the blink of an insane eye.
What were once decorations of fall fabric table cloths, pastel decorated indoor plants, and red & green accouterments scattered throughout the house as the seasons changed became code, messages, and warning signs.
I stripped all material holiday decorations from my life and replaced them with discord, judgment, and extreme paranoia.
Red and green became a code for blood loss during war and intellectual disconcertment for the climate crisis.
Eggs for Easter became my calling to produce other government project children as a result of a covert mission beginning as a test tube baby,
Today, I’m working to resume . . (unintelligible)
I’m not really sure what I was trying to define or explain. But I do know this, I was confused, completely delusional, and could no longer enjoy holiday decorations. They now were all coded messages.