14. Chicken or the Egg

Lukas Allen

10/17/2026

I used to hate the person who helped trigger my psychotic break. Really she had no fault in the break, only the voices did, so it’s not right to hate her. She’s just an association of pain, like associating a car crash with the song that was playing on the radio at the time. My trauma was building and building, unprocessed, until it finally ruptured outwards.

But where do the voices from trauma come from? The voices can’t have caused the voices. It’s a chicken or the egg sort of thing, which came first? The trauma or the voices? I believe trauma triggered the voices, and the voices triggered the subsequent trauma, which of course has more voices. It’s a fire gone wild, a sinkhole that only feeds itself, it’s an endless spiral downwards.

It is medically possible for someone to start manifesting symptoms of schizophrenia after trauma. It’s one of the most common triggers for it. Was my mind a bomb ready for the fuse to be lit? Do I blame the making of the bomb on genetics, or drug use? Is the spark always trauma? There are so many questions I have that aren’t answered.

I’ve been working on other stories of late, and didn’t have as much time or motivation for the blog. I am writing again because the voices reminded me I should. Not like suggesting for me to better myself, only nagging at me, blaming me, and insulting me, which makes me write again in spite of them. It’s surprisingly therapeutic, as well distracting from schizophrenia symptoms.

I used to worry I “needed” the voices to write, like their hate fueled my own, spurring me on, making me take the energy to write. It isn’t quite set up like that, however. I don’t write because I hate the voices, I write because writing is the best way I know of to get away from them. I don’t write in hate. I write for safe refuge.

Anywhere the voices can pop up to play as my antagonist. There is no escape, and the more I notice them the worse it gets. They feed off my attention, living for the insults and torment. When I write, even if I’m writing about them, I am safe again. I am normal. I am sane. It helps put my problems in perspective too.

Hate only pushes one so far. The real motivation is to create something wonderful, to better oneself as well as the world around us. In that inspiration one can move mountains, redirect rivers, and even rocket past the moon.

To date this, I got a box full of my books, and sealed up the mouse hole in the wall. Those little squeaking mice were driving me crazy.

So, where do the voices come from? How do they spring up? How can they be spark and fuel for psychosis? These questions I will try to find an answer to, in some satisfying form.

If not, at least I tried. I don’t need to find out if I can’t, only manage my symptoms in a good manner.

13. Dissociative Characters

10/1/2026

Lukas Allen

            My characters are not real. In the midst of hallucinations, I had another type of symptom, dissociation. It happened after a relapse, where it seemed my schizophrenia developed even more, with brand new, startling effects.

            I became my characters. While slightly lucid, they became me, were seeing out of my eyes in my body. Whenever one pictures however they look currently, they have a clear image as to how they think they look. When in this type of dissociation, that image is shattered, warped, and replaced by others.

            In some ways this dissociation was a self defense reflex. There was no end to voices, and no end to my suffering. Letting another character take the heat prevented my own suffering. But this type of dissociation wasn’t always clear cut and understandable, and some of the characters were forced on me and unwanted.

            In some ways some of the characters were helpful, people like dead friends and relatives, good characters in my books, and even gods like Jesus. It made me feel close to them in some way, and in such suffering I needed that relationship.

            Now, sometimes I still do dissociate, and I don’t want to anymore. I want it to be done. In some ways I need to convince myself that these characters are fiction. A lot of the characters developed when I needed a helping hand with everyday schizophrenic life. I don’t want to let them go, and I don’t want to say goodbye. But enough is enough.

            These characters will continue to be remembered fondly, well, the good ones anyway. I need to lead my mind away from the self defense mechanism, and stand up again with my own strength.

            And hey, it’s not like it is really goodbye. Most of these characters are from my own books, and I can call upon them and read their story whenever I feel like it.

12. Tells of Illness

            9/30/2026

            Lukas Allen

            It’s never a good sign when I hear God in the music. Or when I hear voices while I’m awake in my bed. When things are too trippy even for me.

            I popped a half pill of an antipsychotic. The screen of my computer, the bright white of a word document, is blinding to my eyes. It’ll take around 30 minutes to an hour to kick in. In the meantime I’ll write a blog post.

            I used to love getting up early in the morning, making some coffee and feeling fresh for my writing. It’s been hard trying to wake up early, and honestly I didn’t get much sleep last night.

            There are certain tells from my illness I can spot when I know things aren’t right. Sometimes to fix them I just need to rest more. The quickest way to get rid of the onset of an episode is just to take a pill for the symptom. It can take a long time to recognize the tells that it’s about to get worse, and sometimes when one suffers from these types of illnesses, like schizophrenia, it isn’t always easy to recognize the tells without a “sober” mind. I mean sober in a mental way, and not in an alcohol inebriation way. Staying lucid and sober to one’s illness is the best way to catch those episodic onsets.

            If one cannot recognize a tell then one should try and reason out symptoms. For an example, I can hear voices anytime or anywhere. If the voices are real people, then this instant contact doesn’t make sense.

            I sometimes do miss the trippy, philosophical part of the old days, but schizophrenia ramped that out of proportion, and I was having religious miracles and spiritual epiphanies every single day, all the time. It gets tiring, and currently I just want to live a more stable life.

            I don’t need magic. I don’t need religion. I don’t need to search for meaning in the wind, in the words of a song, in the confines of chance. Sure, there are coincidences, but they are only coincidences. If someone is narrating my life and I am only a puppet on a string, I prefer not to see the string and believe I am real.

            To date this I will say it is my schizophrenia mentor’s birthday. She has helped me so much, and was introduced to me as an old friend of my mom’s. My mom thought her old friend could help me as her old friend also had schizophrenia.

11. Writing Horizons of Mind

9/28/2026

Lukas Allen

I seem to have lapsed in my daily writing exercise. I was wondering why the last few days I didn’t feel just right… Kinda shitty, actually. I think it is connected to writing and my writing exercise. I sort of took it for granted, like I have for writing my entire life.

            In school I always knew I could write, heck, I enjoyed it. I never gave it the proper credit it deserved, however. I took no thought in studying anything that required writing. It took a long time to find my passion. Later in life I found writing to be a horrid and sordid affair, but that was at the same time my schizophrenia really manifested. I was so paranoid someone would steal and plagiarize my work, to the point of ridiculousness. Scary, paranoid, ridiculousness. But now I’ve regained the skill of writing, I’ve exercised and enhanced it. It starts with each time one writes, from the beginning to the end, even if technically the skill of writing will never end, until the very last word, our last breath. It will only continue to grow, improve, change, and adapt. Someone could put an entire life book together of someone’s writing, and that in itself would be a wonderful book. Once started, writing can continue to grow.

            I’ve noticed people sound different in their writing than when they speak in real life. The tone, the style, the context, and more all changes drastically. I know some people who can talk your ear off, and keep you interested too, but don’t write a single word, and if they do, they aren’t very expressive at it. Other people I know use writing for their work, and their writing is a bit more professional, like spreading to every corner of a box, while a non writer would only cover very little, the box being the limits and boundaries of one’s own writing.

            It’s discouraging hearing in the news all the kids have such poor reading/writing skills. Writing and reading don’t have to be a chore. Writing and reading can expand whole new horizons of the mind with language, expressive language that can be used to reflect, entertain, convince, and more. For some reason the purpose for writing got lost along the way. It is not a chore; it is a tool that can be used. It’s always handy having another tool one can use in the right occasion.

            To date this I took a walk downtown. I may have not written in a few days, but I’m picking up again the habit and starting again.

10. License Renewed

9/23/2026

Lukas Allen

To date this, I got my driver’s license renewed. My dad’s girlfriend drove me to the DMV, and we got pulled over. I guess the reason was because she didn’t use a turn signal. I felt more nervous from the eye exam over the cops. I know one needs a calm head with the cops, and I know how to talk to cops from all the shit I’ve been in through. There was a slight problem, and that was that my dad’s girlfriend’s car insurance was “expired.” She just didn’t get a new paper form, and I calmly called the insurance company, from a number on the paper, who then told the cops that my dad’s girlfriend had car insurance. They were satisfied with that, and let her off with a warning. She needs help sometimes doing that stuff because she doesn’t know English as well as some people.

In this town cops have a lot better things to do than pull over someone who forgot to hit their turn signal. There are drugs, pimping, and worse in this town. I suspect it was sort of a training thing for a new cop.

But yeah, my eyesight is kinda going bad, and I was worried I’d fail the eye test at the DMV. The secret to talking to cops or authoritative figures is keep calm and tell the truth. Now, that means one shouldn’t put themselves in situations where they need to lie to cops. If your actions do warrant lying, then you should probably rethink your current actions. It helps to tell the truth, but also tell the truth in a good way. Paint yourself in a good light, as long as it’s the truth.

The cop was a young woman with a man partner. She had a cross tattoo on the side of her head beside the ear. If you run into female cops, don’t assume they will let you off easy just because they are a woman. If you do assume something like that, then you probably risk offending them and then will really know why you shouldn’t do that.

There are good cops and bad cops. Fuck, there’s ICE agents roaming the streets who believe they are even above the cops. I haven’t met any ICE agents yet, thankfully, but I have seen both sides of the spectrum for law enforcers. Some of them I would say should take the full force of my hate. They exacerbated legal charges against me, they don’t recognize mental illness, and made everything worse for me and my own family. I would say I hate them, but I think it’s best not to waste energy on that stuff. Hopefully karma will come and get them, someday.

I used to feel so much anger for slights against me. Like against my own friends who failed me and betrayed me. I thought about it, and realized I should really feel that anger against people like that cop who first arrested me. It helped give me some perspective, and for the once close friends, I forgive you, and I forgive myself for not making it easier.

I got a bacon cheeseburger with fries after I got my license renewed. It felt like a good day.

9. The Royal Cat

9/22/2026

Lukas Allen

I was trapped endlessly trying to go home from school. It was me and my brother, and I kept losing things as we walked or ran down the infinite loop. It was all recognizable settings at first, a few houses, the graveyard, but it changed more and more and whenever I nearly got home, I was back at the school again. Apparently it was because I pissed off a witch who wanted my help. I didn’t trust her, and my brother and I kept walking.

Soon enough I noticed my surroundings gradually changing more and more until they were unrecognizable. I couldn’t realize it for what it was. I raced kids from school back home, always losing, and some of the kids tried to impede my progress. The dream ended when I found the “royal cat” who would help me escape.

A lot of my dreams have a similar theme to them, me and my siblings trying to escape from school. The dreams progressed through the night, from me cleaning out my locker to me walking home.

I feel like I’ve got a jab in my gut. What the heck happened to me that I constantly am trying to escape a dreamworld of school? It baffles my waking self. The main theme is just trying to escape, and now I don’t know how I can besides waking up.

I believe I need to try and recognize something about the dream, something that seems off. Once that triggers, I should be able to recognize that it is a dream.

Maybe I should recognize cats. They’re always a good sign in dreams.

At least I’m not having anymore lucid nightmares. They’re dreams where I know it’s a dream but I cannot wake up. I also strangely do not hear voices in dreams, usually. They are more common when I am awake. I wonder why that is? If I do hear voices in my nightmares they are truly horrible indeed.

On a side note, I can date this by how the politics are shaping up in America. They are trying to get anyone on Medicaid to work 40 hours a month for it. Based on what my case manager told me, I will not be stuck in that requirement, being a disabled person.

I wish I wasn’t “disabled” but that is my current lot in life, just the situation I’m in. I hope to recover well enough, but it takes time, step by step.

Here’s to cats. May they help in dreams as well as awake.

8. Anxiety and Depression Wrapped Up Together

9/21/2026

Lukas Allen

Everything is overwhelming. I started having an anxiety problem, most noticeably, when I started hearing voices. I’d start freaking out, then the voices would talk, then I’d start freaking out some more, and it continued that way.

A lot of people have anxiety, and anxiety in some cases is normal and healthy, like pressure is. The pressure will force me to double check and be careful if something is important. Although I wonder what it’s like for the person without any anxiety.

I imagine some super confident person, able to take any problem with ease and comfortability. I imagine someone who is good at everything, because they are not worried if they succeed or fail. I imagine this sort of person to be enviable to be.

But I am not this sort of person. I do have anxiety, and with my other problems it only gets worse. I suppose I empathize with people who do have these anxiety problems.

I suppose a lot of people get anxious even from just writing. My solution to anxiety with writing is just do it. It’s like ripping off a bandage, or jumping in cold water. The best solution is not to think of anxiety, and to attempt the task anyway.

I’m burning up. Sometimes with my medication I start sweating bullets and overheating. Something to tell the doc.

I get anxious even when walking down the street. I live in a cheap abode for a cheap price, and it’s not really so bad all the time. I just can go right down the road and immediately notice the homeless, prostitutes, and drug dealers. It sometimes worries me, being in this neighborhood. People have stolen random stuff left outside the house, like an ashtray given to me, or a lawn mower that hadn’t been put away inside. It all sometimes feels like too much, but I try to look at the good stuff instead. There are “up and coming” businesses, I can get a good cheeseburger just down the road, or even a burrito and Mexican food even closer.

Sometimes I pity my own situation. It feels sort of like anxiety and depression, wrapped up together. I try not to think of that, because if I do it will only get bigger.

To date this I will say I started watching King of the Hill. Did you know one of the characters was voiced by Tom Petty? I became a Tom Petty fan too late, when he was already dead. Some of his music inspired me for the creation of one of my books, The Wing Fitter and the Soul Binder.

7. Restful Sunday

9/20/2026

Lukas Allen

In jail there was a strange piece of art, graffiti on the cell, which said “Keep Sunday Holy.” This was a few years and a decade ago. This bit of graffiti was in a cell in the hole, or solitary confinement. This place was for all the troublemakers in the jail, which I was inadvertently sent to when I got caught in the next door cellmates rebellious antics. Ever since then I did try to keep Sundays holy. Back in the jail cell I prayed my 77 prayers, seven Our Fathers and 70 Hail Marys.

I think it is a good idea to have a rest day sometime in the week, if not Sunday then whatever other day is an off day. I sit here and write slightly, and then play video games.

I haven’t been to a church for a service in a long time. I wonder if it would even help anymore. I’d probably prefer to sleep in.

To date this I will say I ordered pizza yesterday, and the delivery guy thanked me for the $5 tip. It was rainy, and it’s gloomy again today. Also, I made a samurai rap shuffle consisting of songs from Samurai Champloo, Afro Samurai, and the GZA Liquid Swords album.

I don’t need to do anything today, and my cat has been hanging out with me more than usual.

I’ve been longing to travel, so in its substitute I’m writing a fictional travel story. I don’t know where I’d even go if I went traveling. I suppose to see family in Europe. It’s too difficult to gather the money, get my meds, and orient doctor appointments all throughout. I’d have to spend a good while in preparation if I wanted to travel again.

This writing will be shorter today. Let it be restful today.

The next piece is tomorrow, and I will try to gather information and make it a good one. This has been helping me, my daily writing exercise.

6. Slight Depression

9/19/2026

Lukas Allen

Maybe it’s just the weather. It’s cold, wet, and rainy. It’s perfectly gloomy outside, and inside it is just as dark. I’ve done the dishes, and have nowhere to go. I don’t particularly want to go anywhere, anyway. Slight depression.

I sometimes agonize about the past. What did I do that I shouldn’t have? How can I rectify my mistakes? It makes me very frustrated at times. It’s hard to let go, strangely of one’s own shortcomings. It sucks feeling that way.

I contemplated skipping today’s writing. I just don’t feel like I have it in me. I need to do this, though, and I know I’ll feel better once I do.

Drinking slightly, cranberry juice with whiskey. I haven’t been drinking very much at all lately, and sometimes I miss the getting drunk feeling. Nothing seems to matter then. At least all the things I agonize over don’t seem important. Gotta stay hydrated.

I haven’t used “mindfulness” techniques in a long time. In fact, like religion, I am skeptical of the whole thing as well. I sometimes hear people talk on and on about meditation, mindfulness, finding their “truth.” You don’t know how meaningless all that is until it is forcefully taken away from you. I used to believe wholeheartedly in that stuff, in meditation as well, but ever since I started hearing voices I found the practice to be impossible.

I believe in a body health, which can help the mind health. That is why I take medication, which changes body chemistry, for my mental health. It’s all body in the end. I’ll try to keep my body healthier than I have been. Sometimes I forego general maintenance… Not a very good habit. But I know I can get better.

I think how I failed other people, and how they failed me. It’s not really important, and I feel better saying that, as well as getting some writing done. I can’t burn out, I need to continue. I know it will help.

To date this, I will say my little orange cat is feeling slightly better. I know he won’t last forever, just having one of a cat’s short nine lives. He has lost his interest in killing mice. I suppose I should’ve adopted a more feral cat that would hunt. My mom had one of those, a cat who hunted vigilantly, Shadow. He used to decapitate the mice and also eat their guts. My cat has been dealing with fleas, but I think he’ll feel better with the flea collar, flea spray, and the colder weather.

5. Dreaming Alike Hallucinations

9/18/2026

Lukas Allen

I was feeling sick yesterday, and ended up throwing up my meds. Instead of taking them again I thought it would be prudent not to take double the dose.

A side effect of not taking my meds is very vivid, active dreaming. The first dream I had was the equivalent to the most amazing, awesome psychedelic experience. I visited dream locations of the past, I made peace with my problems. I woke up in amazement of the dream. Of course, then I heard a few voices make a few snide comments, and then fell back to sleep. Then I had more dreams, not necessarily pleasant, and very vivid. I woke up still feeling tired, getting no rest from the dreams.

In the first dream I made peace with myself, but also with my brother whom a rift had been growing between us. I only wish in real life I could bridge the gap as well. I’m gonna get him something nice and consumable for his birthday coming up. There’s a brewery around town that sells pretty good booze, growlers.

I’ll be sure to take my meds tonight, and not throw them up. Dreams can be very important in meaning, but in the end it’s just a brief pass between sessions of being awake. You can’t accomplish anything in dreams, just enjoy the ride, possibly, if you can. I know for every night without meds I have those super vivid dreams, and sometimes they can be absolutely horrifying, alike to “dreaming” awake while hearing voices. The voices also don’t exist in a tangible plane, but they can be just as disturbing as if they were. Hearing voices, or any sort of hallucination, is like a dream you cannot wake up from and cannot end. In this way they are unlike normal psychedelics, because psychedelics end at some point.

I wish I could add more scientific fact to these blog posts, but I suppose I am content with writing down my own experiences and how I deal with them. I am constantly trying to learn more about my illness, schizophrenia, how hallucinations work, what brings them about, and how best to deal with them. It’s difficult without there being more concrete research for schizophrenia. I’d say learning about hallucinations help, but I don’t think my hallucinations work the same way as hallucinogen hallucinations do. The evidence for that is that I don’t have the same “euphoria” and other side effects that hallucinogens give. When taking mushrooms I remember that everything was somehow so very calm and understandable, even though the colors of my surroundings were out of this world. My brain was somehow more relaxed on mushrooms than as when I’m hearing voices. The only time that ended on mushroom trips was when I smoked weed with the mushrooms, which for some reason is a very unstable and disturbing effect for me.

I suppose smoking weed could’ve exacerbated schizophrenia, or the other drugs which could’ve unleashed schizophrenia upon me. I did have a very painful, traumatic bad trip which started a drug induced psychosis in the past. Could it all have been from one tipping point? I believe everything possible led up to me having schizophrenia, it was the sum of all the possibilities becoming possible. Genetics, drug use, trauma, all that.

Here’s to all your greatest dreams becoming possible, and the nightmares to fade away in the light of dawn and with some fresh coffee.