My mouth currently tastes like ash and the silence of 6:00 am screams louder than any delusion ever could. This is the paradoxical freedom of forced self-exile—a severance enacted not by geographic distance, but by the impenetrable glass separating a fractured mind from the coherent world of others.
"This journey of forced authenticity leads directly to the defining question of my new, self-governed territory: Who the hell belongs in Harperville?"
To manage the volatile landscape of schizophrenia is to accept the cyclical failure of human connection, where every heartfelt confession morphs into a potential misunderstanding, and every attempt at intimacy carries the crushing weight of inevitable withdrawal. I didn't choose to be a ghost in my own life, haunting the periphery of genuine relationships; I was made one by the constant, exhausting negotiation between my internal reality and the external demand for normalcy. Yet, the core truth remains: friendship is not sustained by physical proximity or constant vigilance, but by the deliberate integrity of follow-through—the simple, seismic act of keeping a promise and refusing to let the space between us become a chasm of mutual neglect. That passivity, once a shield against pain, is now the heaviest chain I must break.
The calendar turning to 2025 didn't bring a gentle sunrise; it brought a wrecking ball to the carefully constructed façade of my solitude. This year, the theme isn't survival—it’s brutal, unapologetic acceptance. Not the soft, bath-water kind of acceptance you read about in self-help paperbacks, but the kind that forces you to stare down the barrel of your own diagnosis and realize it’s not a tragic flaw, but the bedrock of your perspective. It's accepting that the "coherent world of others" is often just a collective delusion, and the only authentic life is the one lived unashamedly on the fault line.
Harperville does not physically exist on the world map, no. It's the sovereign state of my radicalized internal landscape deeply rooted in Oz. Oh, andIt has exactly zero tolerance for tourists, pity-parties, or those who mistake vulnerability for an invitation to rubberneck (or the trite passivity of avoidance). If your friendship requires me to be "manageable," "less intense," or to hide the phantom sounds that shape my thoughts, then you are a foreign agent, and your visa is hereby revoked.
This isn't my appeal for sympathy. It's a declaration of border integrity. You either engage with the complex, messy, magnificent truth of the person standing before you—delusions, paranoia, and all—or you are implicitly demanding a curated, inauthentic performance. That performance is exhausting, and I’m done paying the psychological rent for your comfort. The price of admission to Harperville is simple: show the freak up or show the fuck out!>
The year 2026 represents not merely an upgrade, but a definitive, necessary restructuring of my personal environment. The former currency of interpersonal relationships—characterized by passive intentions, excuses, and emotional neglect—is herewith rendered obsolete. As articulated by the business maxim, "Money talks, and rhetoric fails," continued presence in Harperville beginning January 1st, 2026, necessitates demonstrated commitment and tangible reciprocity. The Mandate: Interpersonal engagement is henceforth subject to the terms of a high-stakes, bilateral agreement predicated on verifiable performance. I will no longer tolerate the profound emotional disparity wherein the maintenance of my own existence consumes substantial energy, while the contribution from my counterparts remains minimal and inconsistent. This persistent emotional deficit is a tax I am unwilling to continue paying. Promises shall no longer be considered merely pleasant suggestions; they are enforceable deliverables. Avoidance is not interpreted as granting space, but as an immediate breach of the established accord. Moving forward, my continued engagement with you is directly contingent upon your reciprocal, conscious, and integral engagement with me. While the state of survival has been exhausting, 2026 requires more: Thriving shall supersede surviving. Any individual unable to demonstrate the intentional, conscientious conduct expected of a fully present adult will find that the parameters of access are strictly closed.
We are clearing the space. The passive aggressives, the ghosters who mistake distance for empathy, the well-meaning but ultimately shallow acquaintances—they are being systematically excised. If your loyalty is conditional, if your presence requires me to diminish my own light to spare your eyes, then step away now. I am done being haunted by the living. This isn't a plea for connection. It’s a standard being raised. Harperville is taking residents, but only those whose integrity matches the intensity of the fight. If you can’t handle the weather here in Harperville, go back to your sunshine and silence. We’ll be louder, truer, and infinitely more alive without you.