I did not even supposed then that I after some time I will have to suffer such pain which no one can stand, believe me; it can only be hatefully tolerated, coming to heavy madnesses. These madnesses happened to these people, and I could not understand all these nightmares, but I really wanted to support them somehow in difficult minutes. I was confused by the gusts of acute disease inside those who had only recently been in an idle mood. But people are various here. There are drug addicts, one can encounter good guys among them, but they are rare, most of them are all vile and completely immoral. That was here when I first saw drug addicts, they were few at that time. One of these guys was very attentive to me and even found something to admire in me during our intimate conversations with him. I had a kind of trick: I thought that I was capable of parapsychology.
A writer and a translator wrote a poem to me:
Maître Sergei Mikhailovich Vassiliev, praise St. Petersburg and the whole country, having mastered parapsychology, on Basil Island. (no rhyme preserved Translators note) This sounds well, does not it? I was proud. Only one rascal spoiled my the festival of my life drunk with psychosis, which never left me within the walls of the house of sorrow. This manipulator got acquainted, gained trust, and when I was dismissed, called me at home, promised videotapes, but did not bring them, took money promising to bring them later, and left. I suspected a hidden catch, I told him that I really needed that money, to make him have the hiccups later, but already completely realizing that I was cheated, still gave a ten-ruble note to that sick poor addict. Hoodwinkers just started to appear, and I already hated them.
A maniacal exultation itself can be seen as an incredible joy from a huge success, which, with its enthusiasm, does not allow any grief to knock you sideways out of this happiness. But, unfortunately, this behavior has no proper path. Since it can only anchor a little. I shall explain: I thought earlier that if the issue with skin disease is resolved, Ill be completely free me, there will be no barriers in my way. And this factual deliberation from appearance issues a kind of maturity, on the one hand, was also a tragic impetus to a new disease; it first gave me that pleasing relief of which I had been dreamed for almost all my life. Freud just supposed similar ways of developing maniacal psychoses. It turns out that all this mood, overfilled with freedom, can generally drive mad a person who, in principle, was very close to such an explosion of emotions due to his/her temperament, which was not the best since early childhood, and this is the second and the most important cause of the disease. It is like this, and its not far to seek, one should only see its root causes originating from the past of a person, his/her childhood, his/her sinister memories, escaping from which he/she creates a world of illusions. But I became aware that it all happens in such way a very, very long time later, because all the horror of my past was hidden from me, forgotten and controlled by me.
For many years I have been looking for the reasons for what happened to me in anything, but not in the responsibility of my family. But nevertheless, leading experts of the city chose a simple final conclusion, i.e. a disorder of brain biochemistry, no more assumptions, and I already took it as my own personal defect, independent of anyone, which, I must say, put me in a very unpleasant situation, because it was a real muck, it turned out, that I myself was guilty of what was happening; I thought that was an congenital defect, and, thus, I considered my case as fatal. In this first my maniacal nightmare, all thoughts were mixed in my head, the confusion in my spiritual world was incredible; to be a god, a real one, in which I was absolutely convinced, and to be for some reason in captivity, and not in the best places. How? After all, I was truthful with everyone and wished everyone good. But I still tried to find myself. Its not for nothing that I was here, there is a sense of my being in this disgrace, and I saw in the need to be placed behind the grill a kind of profound providence, the doctor told me so, without letting me to leave on Christmas holidays: Take it philosophically. In addition, and, I must say, I understood this literally and thought that he was just pretending not to let me leave, and that I would be back home before the holidays, I really wanted to get out, but the doctor, as you know, brought another meaning into this tip, namely that the New Year in a madhouse is not bad. Philosophy helped me, of course, greatly in my grief, but being at home on holidays is sacred, and, of course, I hoped until the last.
Meanwhile, the delirium gradually began to go away, and I already understood that I was in captivity of the disease, and already agreed with my stay in the house of sorrow. I was happy such return to a normal state, and a good, already sober mood as if accompanied the outcome of the sad event. Soon I was dismissed and back home. And then a tremendous shock happened, something inside, like a swarm of bees, hit me with alarming threats. Thoughts and feelings rushing outside were a part of this swarm, probably its basis; I could not understand that kind of expressive and suppressing pain. Suddenly, with all suffocating, oppressive nightmare, I saw myself as just tiny, and this black cloud stung again and again, without giving me any rest, wanting to finally destroy me. I must say, this was impossible to anticipate. Its like as if, for example, you are horribly morally tortured, bringing to intolerable frenzy and torments, which one under no circumstances could seem to imagine, only in case of some direct intervention into the organics of brain. I looked at my hands and body to stay in my mind, and did not find any explanation of this muck. All thoughts were focused on this, like a nightmare which more and more blackened and killed me as time passed, and which reached the limits of suffering required for itself and almost intolerable for me, and which tormented so fiercely that I felt myself like in the hands of a real executioner. And it was not possible to get away from such a situation. I realized that my parents are near, like protection, but the demon of psychotic depression was not at all dependent on anything external and seemed to know this perfectly, gloating in his action.
Well, such a symptom suddenly revealed itself in the nature of my soul. And no one knew how to cure this, how to help it, I still took handfuls of medications, medics added antidepressants and generally better drugs, but the disease strength completely ignored doctors attempts. Sometimes I was so oppressed that I felt as if I was drowning, and in the very end of life I could take a breath and then was again lethally drowning. I had no self-control and asked my parents to find me similar persons, because there are people like me who suffer torments similar to mine, because it should go somehow, maybe they know how. Then suddenly I was getting the relief, on the one hand. The irritation of this infernal swarm of anxious feelings receded, but it was replaced by the results of such evil intervention into the mind, that was a state of thoughtlessness. The feelings were terrible: I did not feel at all that I could think, and the ability to argue was seemed to be lost to such degree that the inner emptiness, which I strongly felt all the time, was like ringing in all my body, leading me to panic. I felt to be a completely empty person, literally an idiot. And this thought, being the single in my head, pestered me with its uncompromising rightness, no less than the former imaginary murderers, depriving me of life. Emptiness and bad mood deprived me of the ability to feel life and at least somehow participate in it with my soul, which, I must say, I was completely deprived of, judging by my sensations. I remember how my beloved friend Dimon accompanied me on a trip to the parapsychologist in St. Petersburg for help, and my never-ending complaints to him, a reliable friend, to the only one who listened to my roar without tears. And the parapsychologist, I must say, at that time also reassured him, saying that everything would be fine, but how wrong he was! For many long months I experienced inexpressible feelings, staying in which, you can not think of anything else.