Why I went mad

Much in the spirit of zero f@cks, since I took 2 months off work after the police unceremoniously told me that they would not bother investigate an assault because essentially they can’t prove what I did and didn’t do willingly.

So I might as well pop this on the interweb.

I’ll leave out surnames as they sods had my sanity; they’ll not have my wallet for defamation.


So are you single, or…?

I can’t stand anyone to touch me

I daren’t date really

Touch is so much more than simply

A hand held

I don’t think I can heal alone

What if I’m stuck without it?

I can’t fathom the depth of connection

That would allow me to want to touch

Another human being

I can’t do it

So yes, celibate

Copyright 2016 J N Ali

I can’t remember what it was called but I remember the Greeks had a word for orphans who died of being unloved. Without touch we do eventually perish. I don’t know how to fix myself.

In dreams, as in life

My dreams are more accurately

Magical realism

That is to say, there’s many

Many a similarity to reality

But a few subtle differences

All the players mostly in character

Two nights before last

I took a trip to Amsterdam

My hatred or fear of weed had passed

But that wasn’t why I was there

The reason I was there was unclear

But the room in which I stayed

Had that magical realism filter

A glossy room, opening onto infinity pool

Or maybe canal

With a shop in the corner

and a stairwell the other side leading to the metro

(Is there a metro in Amsterdam? I don’t know)

We went to dinner

And as we often do in dreams

When I detach in life

You were affectionate and disengaged

Paradoxically simultaneously

Unable to give your full attention

I was probably cloying

Demanding Diva, but I am what I am

Usually this realism divides me

From my decision

But…I think I’ll see you in dreams

Unless our reality becomes

A little more magical


Copyright 2016 J N Ali

The Psychic Network

One of the first things I heard (as I started hearing voices very soon after the events in the last post) was my voices talking about ‘The Psychic Network’.

“The first rule about the Psychic Network is, don’t talk about the Psychic Network.”

Let’s disregard the fact that I could be a little bit paranoid here, and assume that there is, in fact, a Psychic Network and that they have been meddling with my life for quite some time now. They corrupt friends, influence family, work colleagues, hack and mess with my online life.

You sad, sad bitches. If you are real, I invite you to leave my life. Forever. Just stop talking to me. Because you’ve valued a secret society over real conversation and that’s just…jeez that’s pathetic. Beyond pathetic. All those times I’ve been paranoid and you know the reason is YOU, get the eff out and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Please don’t worry I’ll be lonely. Thanks to what happened I’ll never be alone. I hear voices.


Hacked! (a cautionary tale…)

I’ve known for some time now that I’ve been hacked.

It’s exhausting. I don’t have the know-how to stop it. I’ve put up the best defence I can electronically, now here’s appealing to the possible reason why…

I think someone has used photos of me and catfished people. Being a young woman engaging in sexual relationships in the digital age, I have of course sent the odd dirty picture. To people I’m already sleeping with.

Ladies, this is a cautionary tale to you – men are desperate sometimes and lord know what they’re doing with those things. Take Polaroids.

So, another way I’ve been sexually violated, by people I thought I could trust (but by no means the worst way.)


Night all!