There’s a bit of reluctance to expose myself here, as I think it’s a fruitless pursuit, relished in self-absorption and a tinge of neuroses.

I’m Jasmine, over the last couple of years, I’ve developed an identity Blaise, since the 2-syllable Jas-mine doesn’t appeal much to me and the possessive implication of ‘mine’ gets under my skin, as I know I don’t own anything, least of all myself.

My skin is my biggest insecurity. Since birth I was born with red, inflamed skin, a sign of dermatitis, which I have battled for decades, and am left with battle scars. I’m at a point in my life where I actively hide myself, because I consider the damage to be visually distasteful, and no one should have to see ugliness where it’s not wanted.

During spring of my first year of graduate school in mathematics, I was struck with a violent psychotic episode, lasting about a year where I completely disconnected from reality, and created what I am now proud of, but was for a long time ashamed to reveal. This psychosis permanently damaged me, though I am back to “reality”, my reality will never be the same, and a part of my brain has split irreparably.

With this splitting comes periods of dissociation, derealization and thought disorders. My short term memory is forever corrupted, I make word associations that, while creative, are in general useless, and I compulsively fantasize about the day I will be remembered for my genius.

This blog is for anyone who knew me, knew of me, or wants to know me. My attachment to this existence weakens daily and it won’t be long before I physically depart.

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