Forest Man

Dear readers. Yesterday I put myself in a situation where the police could take me to Ytterö psychosis department in Farsta, Stockholm, again, from where I escaped this summer. My Parkinson's disease has gone too far, so I could not hide it enough, so I did something strange at the marketplace of the famous suburb Rinkeby, the muslim ghetto of Stockholm nr. 1. I sold some crazy things on the ground in front of the main mosque in Rinkeby, and shouted to everyone to come and buy, didn't want to move when the leaders of the mosque commanded me to leave, and then, of course, they called the guards, and the guards called the pedolice. Even though I put myself in danger voluntarily, I was very angry at the guards and the pedolice, and they escorted me to St. Göran's acute psychiatric ward. 

 

And why did I do this? Now I have to reveal my big secret that I have kept for 22 days: I have become handicapped. I jumped out of a balcony, 2,5 metres, from the first floor, jumped in a crazy way, didn't understand how to jump (I have made similar jumps before without hurting myself), maybe because of my Parkinson, which makes me intellectually retarded, I landed on my heels, and crushed my heels. The reason why I did it was that the pedolice came to a flat where I was a guest, making a house search, a razzia, to find me, and I was very scared, and jumped from the balcony. Then I laid on the ground for some time, shaking of pain, and shouted for help. When nobody listened (there was people there, very strange), I slowly crept over the courtyard and into the house and upstairs, and knocked on my friend's door. He opened, and laid me on his bed and gave me 40 % rum to alleviate my pain. I boozed, and it helped the pain very much. Since then I have lived by my friend, laying in an own bed in his flat most of the time, not seeking help from a hospital because of my fear of their medications (I'm sure they would force me to take antipsychotic drugs there, in any hospital). The Lord gave me crutches which we found in miraculous ways, and when I was healed enough, I could walk with crutches in Gamla Stan (The Old Town). Then I began to be too noisy in my friend's flat, saying too much crazy things, for example that 5G creates corona directly in the blood and that the friend had to choose between me staying at his flat and his wireless internet, because I did not want him to get corona, i.e. that if he did not cast out his wireless computer and his smartphone, he would cast out me. Then my friend cast out me, and I tried my best to survive in the centre of Stockholm. No one else of my friends had enough of mercy to take me to them as a konvalescent, and I was afraid of seeking a doctor. The next night I was robbed in a MacDonald's in the night when I played an UFO-man and aroused immense interest in the youngsters there, forgetting at last who I am and that I had a backpack with me. They stole everything of worth, leaving the rest on the sofa and the floor. I tried to carry my things with me to Gamla Stan without backpack, which was difficult, I had crutches, but I managed to find a place in Gamla Stan where I could sleep on the ground. I had no power to seek for my places in the forests. I froze, and could not sleep that night. The next day my Parkinson got worse *, my hands began to shake (Parkinson-shaking), which has never happened before, and I, after begging for help from my friends, gave up, and made the crazy scene in Rinkeby. 

 

Wikipedia writes about Parkinson's disease: "The life expectancy of people with PD is reduced. Mortality ratios are around twice those of unaffected people".