The Depressed, The Anxious, The Famous…

So this morning I’m perusing Facebook (that which I unaffectionately call Facepuke) and I see this WebMD article, “19 Celebrities With Depression” (with this very same picture for click bait). I didn’t read it… I did, however, comment. I had to… I see articles like this all the time. If it’s not about how one specific celebrity came forth with some sort of mental issue, it’s a list of celebrities who suffer from whatever mental issues. Honestly, they piss me the fuck off on so many levels for so many reasons. I just had to comment.

The most prominent reason articles like this piss me off is how they’re written. Some celebrity finally announces their struggles with depression, anxiety or bipolar disorder. Suddenly, they’re more than a celebrity, they’re a fucking hero! And then all these idiots will gush over how brave they are, putting up with such a struggle, how they feel for them because they have this debilitating illness…

So do tell… if they were just Joe Shmoe for Ida-fucking-ho, would people still feel and react the same way…? Hell no! The masses could give a fuck less in that case! We all know that the only reason people make a fuss is because they’re fucking famous. And it’s not as if any of them advocate for the mentally ill. So it begs to wonder… do they really suffer from a mental illness or are they just saying they do because it’s the “in” thing right now?

Hey, didn’t you know it’s “fashionable” to be mentally ill…? Apparently it is. And there’s this great article about social media being the culprit.

Have you ever had that friend (come on, we all have at least one) who lets out this long, heavy sigh and sadly says to us, “I’m just so depressed…” Or worse, the ones that casually say, as if it’s the funniest thing ever, “OMG, I’m so OCD!” Seriously… how do those of us genuinely suffering from a mental illness manage to not punch these people right in the fucking face?!? As they say, “The struggle is real”. Yes, the struggle for me to not punch you in your fucking idiot head is real… and extremely difficult. So now, not only do I have to struggle to get out of bed every morning, breathe in and out, eat sometimes and try to motivate myself to shower, I have the added struggle of trying not to strangle fucking idiots…

You know why he’s screaming? Idiots… It’s because of idiots…

I’m sure you guys are familiar with Edvard Munch’s The Scream… This is me. Every… single… fucking…day.

Look, just because you like to Tweet 50 times a day doesn’t give you the right to glibly say, “OMG, I’m so OCD!” And just because you broke your favorite coffee mug doesn’t give you the right to say, “I’m so depressed…” Those are insults to people who actually suffer from these conditions.

You Tweet so much because you’re addicted to social media and, obviously, have nothing better to do with your life. You’re not OCD. And you’re really sad and bummed out that you accidentally broke your favorite coffee mug, you’re not depressed. That’s it… Yet I hear people use these terms so loosely. It really is demeaning to people who have these conditions. It’s not fashionable like the celebrities and social media are making it out to be, and it shouldn’t be taken lightly. These are serious mental illnesses.

Did you ever see the movie As Good As It Gets? Seriously, everyone should watch this movie. Jack Nicholson does a phenomenal job of playing a person with severe OCD (along with a massive social disorder, it seems). The frightening thing is that I can relate to his character Melvin in so many ways, it’s not even funny. And the movie, I think, very accurately portrays exactly what it’s like to suffer from an illness that really is rather odd when you think of it.

What my walls would look like if I kept track…

OCD, for me, is literally crippling. Particularly the fear of germs. I’d always had OCD traits, but suddenly, one day, I developed a fear of germs that became worse and worse. I’m okay outside my home, oddly enough, but when I get back… I won’t sit on my sofa (or any of my other “clean” places) until I’m fully showered, hair washed, clean clothes on. Strange but true, this is actually a good thing to do during allergy season (so I read). Allergens stick to everything, and I’m allergic to so many pollens, which means showering is good after I’ve been outside. However, the downside is that, when I buy something, I have to wash it. I wash my phone every time it’s been out of a “clean zone”, if I touch anything in my own house that I think is dirty, I scrub up like a doctor.

I’ve had other, less intrusive obsessions and compulsions over the years (in particular, the “did I remember to lock the door?!” check 50 times, repeat), but the fear of germs is the worst. The skin on my hands is so dry, it cracks and bleeds. And my arms up to the elbow? They look like I have reptile scales. I’m killing my skin, but I keep doing it. Why…? Because I’m a control freak. Literally… Years ago, so many things slipped out of my control and my anxiety was off the charts. So my brain created compulsions to help alleviate the anxiety, and it worked… until I realized how irrational I was being, which caused more anxiety, stronger compulsions, yada yada… It’s literally a vicious circle of crazy.

Speaking of my ever-present “friend” anxiety…

I decided to use this image because I think this clears a lot of shit up. Everyone has some normal anxieties, like what’s listed in the “everyday” column. Sadly, I’m in the “disorder” column. I literally suffer from all those things. My biggest anxiety has to do with death… That didn’t actually hit me hard until some of my friends passed away. Now I over-analyze every little ache and pain, every strange feeling I’m having in my body, which always seems heightened at that particular moment. I’m thoroughly convinced I’m having a heart attack and I’ll be dead any second, now. I literally have to tell myself aloud that it’s just an anxiety attack, I’m not going to die, relax your ass.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t always work… I even made artful mini posters and put them all around my house so I can see them and work myself through the anxiety. But it doesn’t always help and neither do the anti-anxiety meds. I’m either in a constant state of panic or a constant state of worry 24/7. Sometimes I’m in both states at once. Honestly, I don’t know how I keep going from day to day. It’s not easy, I can tell you that. What I’m doing, how I’m living my life, really isn’t living at all. That in and of itself causes more anxiety. Some days, when it’s particularly bad, I think to myself, “I wasn’t always like this… I wish I could just go back and be the way I was…” Sadly, that’s not always possible. People change as they grow and age. You can’t go back, especially in this situation. I’m what’s holding me back, every single miserable day. It’s up to me to correct it and hopefully repair the damage done.

But hey, let’s not forget our old friend depression, right? He may fall into a pit of despair if we do…

To those who let out those heavy, mournful sighs and utter those words, “I’m so depressed…” when they’re just bummed out… I’ve got news for you, sunshine, that’s not how it works.

From my lovely experiences with depression, I can safely say that a person who is actually depressed won’t sigh and say they are. Instead, when people ask them if they’re okay, they’ll put on the “It’s all good; nothing to see here” face and say, “Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Then they’ll lie when the person tells them they seem a bit down. This leads to 2 options… Option #1: put on your happy mask and reply, “Pfft, no… I’m fine!” and play it off like a pro. Option #2: in the event that you left your happy mask at home that day (shame on you), reply with, “No, I’m okay, I just have a lot to do today/need to meet this deadline and I’m behind/just really into my work today”. If that won’t suit the situation, reply with, “Yeah, I’m okay; I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.” Good reasons for not sleeping well include: my kid was up puking all night, my cat kept jumping on my face, I had explosive diarrhea, my significant other was snoring likeThe Texas Chainsaw Massacre all night.

We’re a very clever, crafty and quick-witted people, we, the mentally ill… We can hide it so well, you’d never know unless we tell you. It’s a true art form…

But back to the OCD thing…

A few days ago, I watched part of this video some guy who fancies himself a comedian made regarding germaphobes. I couldn’t even finish watching it, it was so insulting. I did leave a nicely worded comment (which I saw other people had the same feelings as myself, more or less). I told him I was sure that he was a funny guy, but that I didn’t think it was right to make light of such a subject and explained that I’m a germaphobe and it’s a crippling mental illness and why. Not surprised that I didn’t get a reply from him… But let me tell you, I think I should have in the form of an apology. In fact, I think he should apologize to all the people suffering this fate for making light of it. I suppose it may seem funny to people who don’t have the condition. But I really found it insulting. Worse, he’s helping to create more stigma instead of understanding. That’s never a good thing…

I think the reason I droned on, aside from that idiotic article, is because I was in full blown panic mode twice yesterday. The first was when I drove not even a half mile from my house to get my nails done, the other was when I went to get dyed purple again. I have no idea why pleasant things caused it…

So, dear readers (all, what, 2 of you? Hahaha), what are your views on all this? Is mental illness becoming fashionable due to social media and celebrities? Can anyone relate to all these weird, crazy things that go on in my head or am I completely alone in all this? Please leave a comment, I’d love to hear what you guys think.

The Mandela Effect Hits Home…

How many of you have heard of “The Mandela Effect“…? Raise your hands if you have. Or maybe you’re unsure of your own memory if you have heard of it and aren’t sure if you should raise your hand. Your memories may be mistaken, after all…

In a nutshell, that’s the short version of this phenomenon. My massage therapist was the one who first introduced me to this theory (or conspiracy, as some call it). Obviously it got its name after Nelson Mandela. How many of you recall him being released from prison and becoming President of South Africa? Most of you, probably… But those of us that are older remember he died in prison in the 80s. Hence how the theory got its name. The above link has only a few examples of this effect. How many people were in the car when JFK was assassinated? I remember 4, but no, the footage now shows 6. How many people remember Coca~Cola being hyphenated? Same with Kit-Kat? Or it being Looney Toones and not Tunes? What color are yield signs? Black and yellow or red and white? Are those of us who are older going senile so young or were things as we recall and have somehow changed with no indication that they were ever as we remembered…?

Have fun going down the rabbit hole, Alice…

A friend of mine sent me this link when I made a post about “The Mandela Effect”. It was written by a guy named Nick Hinton. It’s a long read (you need to read the entire thread), but it’s really trippy! Part of the theory mentioned is that CERN, that group of French scientists who decided one day, “Hey, how cool would it be to try and make a black hole?” screwed everything up. I had a lot of interesting conversations when they decided to try it. My thoughts were that they were fucking idiots. You can’t contain a black hole! I mean… seriously?! You’re scientists, for Christ’s sake! You should know you can’t contain a black hole! It will just keep growing and you won’t be able to stop it!

So okay, I knew the CERN scientists were idiots for coming up with this idea. I don’t know if they went through with it or not, but the theory is that they did… And, by doing so, we were either unknowingly sucked into a black hole, traveled through a worm hole or kind of joined with a parallel dimension that was very similar to ours and that’s why the things older people remember seem like false memories. It’s a trippy concept and, honestly, reading too much or too much at one time about this shit literally gives me a headache. Your mind can only be blown so much before you start to fucking lose your marbles…

Take a few minutes to look this shit over. I’ll wait…

Did you follow those links? Did you investigate “The Mandela Effect”…? Do you feel like how Sponge Bob and Squidward look right now?

If you don’t, you really should… That’s some freaky ass shit! When my massage therapist introduced me to this idea and began questioning my memory, I was totally freaked out. I remember things as she does (she’s only slightly older than I am) and to find out that, supposedly, my memories, hers, the memories of millions of other people are being referred to as “false memories” really fucks with my head. As I said before, I have a rather good memory. I can remember things from ages that I should have no memories from because I was so young (like 2 years old). Don’t tell me my memories are false, man… That really fucks with my head…

But I’m beginning to think “The Mandela Effect” isn’t just fucking with weird things, like did Darth Vader say, “No, I am your father” or “Luke, I am your father” (swear to god, it’s the latter). It seems to be spilling over into my everyday life…

Last time, I was kicking around the idea of buying a trailer because it’s more financially sound (I’ll never get anywhere near my original investment back from this house) and it gets me out of this bad neighborhood. I spoke to my sister, who makes a lot of money and is great at managing it, and she thought my idea was the best. There’s just one problem… I have $2,500 less than what he’s asking for it and he’s already selling it at rock bottom. He’s going to be taking a loss as it is and I don’t know if he’d take even less.

Now, I’ve never had a great relationship with my sister. We’re 5 years apart (she’s older) and ever since we were kids, we just didn’t get along. We’re too different… She’s also been very opposed to helping me with financial issues, except when my cat, Sebastian, needed emergency surgery. She paid for it to help save my cat because… well, I guess because she loves cats. Otherwise, I don’t ask for help because she won’t even if she can. But Saturday… She asked me how things went when I saw the trailer. Aside from the hideous color that looks so much worse in person, it went well. I really love it and the neighborhood is so peaceful and quiet, which will help my depression and anxiety. But money is my issue… I explained that I had to offer $2,500 less than asking. She said he’ll probably counter offer and I told her, if he did, I’d be screwed because I don’t have it. She responded with let’s see what happens and, depending on what he comes back with, she might be able to help me… Did I read that text correctly?!

So the question is… Was my sister body snatched? Or is this part of “The Mandela Effect” and she’s some sort of parallel universe sister?!

Like the question of, “How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?”, the answer is still the same. “The world may never know”… I’m not sure why my sister is all of a sudden acting so nice and helpful. But, in all honesty, I really don’t want to question it. If I do, I may lose this opportunity, screw up my relationship with her again… Sometimes I overthink things and assume she has ulterior motives and I get paranoid. But this time, I think I’m just going to go with it and appreciate the help.

It’s… Been A Weird Morning…

This morning, I was shaking my pills out onto the counter (2 psych meds, an asthma and an allergy pill which are fucking useless at the moment). All are round pills of varying sizes, the smallest being my allergy pill. The last pill I shook out was my anti-anxiety pill. Now… normally my pills land flat. On occasion, they start out on their side, roll off the counter and onto the floor where I frantically search for it before Baxter can find it. Much as I don’t think giving him an anti-anxiety once in a while wouldn’t be a bad idea… Anyway, this morning I shook out my anti-anxiety last and it hit my tiny allergy pill just right and stood up on end, just like the quarter pictured here.

The first thing that popped into my head was that episode of The Twilight Zone, “Penny For Your Thoughts”. This was followed by hearing Rod Serling’s diatribe: “Flip a coin; what are the odds… Half the time it will come up heads, the other half tails…”

For those who have never seen the episode (which is probably most of you, so get your ass to Netflix or Hulu), it starts out with a mild-mannered, geek bank worker, Hector B. Poole (Dick York) who casually tosses a quarter into the box when he buys a paper and, instead of it landing heads or tails, it stands straight up. The odds are astronomical that would happen, right? But Hector shrugs that shit off until he realizes that, afterward, he can hear what people are thinking. It makes for an interesting day at the office, that’s for sure. At first it gets him into a bit of trouble. He tries to warn his boss not to give a loan to a businessman because he’s planning on gambling it away. Of course, everyone is outraged with poor Hector. He even accuses an extremely elderly coworker of planning to rob the bank. Of course, the old man isn’t offended when called on it. He fantasizes about it every day, chasing different locations to abscond to in order to make the day interesting. In the end, the boss learns Hector was right about the gambling business man and, because he knows of his boss’s plans for a secret rendezvous with some girl, he manages to get the job he deserves.

In the end, he ends up walking home Helen, a coworker who has the hots for Hector (he can read her thoughts, remember?) and when he stops to buy the evening paper, he flips a quarter in the box and ends up inadvertently knocking over the quarter he had flipped upright earlier. What are the odds? It stayed up all day and the same guy who, by chance, flipped it that way is the same guy to knock it back over. And, once he has, he can’t hear what people are thinking anymore, much to his relief… I thought about all this when my pill landed on end this morning. I’m currently waiting for Rod Serling to show up and find out exactly what strange occurrences will befall me in The Twilight Zone.

Things got a little weird after that…

Suddenly, Foreigner’s “Double Vision” just popped right in my head. Not one of my favorites of their’s… I mean, it’s okay, but I’d rather it have been another song. So there I am, taking my pills and singing this damn song in a vain attempt to get it the fuck out of my head. Sadly, it didn’t work. It’s still in there now, even though I’ve listened to 2 other songs, one of which is another ear worm. So I suppose I’ll need to dig out my Foreigner 4 LP and listen to the damn thing. Fuck it; YouTube is easier…

“This is ponderous, man… Really ponderous…”

It’s really not that unusual for a song to just randomly pop in my head or just be there the second I wake up. But what was really odd was what happened when I sat down to write this entry…

A friend sent me a text, which is a bit unusual. I don’t really get texts in the morning because everyone is going to work or getting ready for work. In fact, after I responded, I said to myself, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work…?” As soon as I said it, BAM! It popped in my head: “Then the horns kicked in… And my shoes started to squeak…” I had to laugh at myself as I said, “This is ponderous, man… Really ponderous…” If you’ve never heard the song, “This is Ponderous“, go take a listen. It’s actually quite amusing! I can’t wait to see how weirder my day gets!

This is the signpost up ahead, but not to The Twilight Zone…

Okay, onto boring shit…

The universe seems to be giving me a sign, but I’m so unsure of what to do or if I even can do what the universe is telling me to do.

This is the stressor I wasn’t willing to speak of before… See, I live in a row home in a really shitty neighborhood. I’m talking like a demilitarized zone. Meth labs busted, drug deals are the norm, not the exception. There’s fairly mild violence and destruction of people’s property. And once, a party turned into a crime scene that involved several ambulances and at least 20 police cars. And I live in a small town of not even 3,000 people! And it’s only this one, small community of row homes that’s like this.

Don’t be delusional, most small towns aren’t like this…

Seriously, I couldn’t find any pictures that look like my town because they were all too pretty. This is too pretty… I live in this literally tiny, shit-splat town that consists mostly of pizza places and bars. Seriously, there are like 4 or 5 bars in this one tiny town, one of which is a “gentleman’s club”. A male friend dragged me in there once… I can safely say that shit-splat towns get the grossest strippers. Anyway, aside from that, it’s just a small town of old houses. Then you come to my tiny neighborhood and it’s like you stepped into the bowls of the Bronx… something the mayor chooses to ignore because, as she’s been heard to have said, “Every town has its blemish…” So she makes these ridiculous projects to waste our money to make the town look quaint and everyone praises her for it except we of the “hood” who knows that she’s really just turning a blind eye to the issues and giving us a big “fuck you”.

Now… first of all, my row home is not near as nice as the pictures that came up in the Google search, which made me feel worse about things… Anyway… I’ve had some mortgage issues. You know, emergency surgery, missed work, fell behind (several times I had surgical issues), re-modifications that made payments ridiculously higher each time you tried to fix it… Well, in any case, at this point, I have two options. I can pay the arrears off or use that money in a more financially sane way and literally hand the bank my home and tell them it’s their problem now. I’m sure most of you are thinking, “Are you nuts?! Pay the arrears, save your home!” But there’s a reason it’s foolish… As I said, this place is literally a “hood”. It’s gotten to the point that the houses have depreciated to a point where, if I sink this money into my house to save it, I’ll never get back my investment, not by a long shot. To give you an idea, the last home that sold here sold for over $40,000 less than I bought my house for. I blame the town for not cleaning up this shit hole hood…

Now, I could sink that money into a double wide trailer instead and sign my house over to the bank. It’s a better idea, from a financial standpoint. Not to mention that the only nice neighbors I have are moving and the company that rents their house will undoubtedly move in the same trash they’ve been moving in. Sharing walls sucks as it it. Sharing walls with people who sound like they’re running a dance club at all hours? Oh hell no… The problem is that, if I do this, it will literally wipe out every cent of the money I’ve come into. Plus I’d lose over 200 square feet of living space, having a basement and a fenced in yard… I’m at a crossroads and don’t know what to do. I finally found an out from this money pit and I’m not sure it’s something I can or should do.

So all day yesterday (and today so far) I was suffering the worst anxiety. What do I do?! I know the obvious financial option that makes sense. And I know the park this trailer is in is a very nice community. But… I’d lose a lot of what I have with owning a house, especially storage space. I’m not even sure all my furniture will fit in this place! And there are things I’d miss about this place, mainly my tiny backyard. I’d miss the fact that there are trees and a creek. My backyard is like a hidden world compared to the front of my house. I don’t want to lose it, but do I want to risk the possibility of bad neighbors? Of having to be buried in the backyard just so I can get some of my investment back?! Gah! I’m freaking out… I don’t like change and indecision. So if you have any advice, please leave a comment.

And She Said… Some Bad Things…

This is how all my ramblings come to you…

So… before we delve too far into today’s shit, I thought you might like to see how I get these sometimes crazy, rambling thoughts to you guys.

It all started with the two jeweled llama stickers (bottom right corner). I wasn’t sure I wanted to put any stickers on here because what if my MacBook took a shit on me? Bye-bye stickers. And I just love stickers… The “Hopeless Ramentic” and “Anxietea” are my newest. Aren’t they funny?

Speaking of anxiety, mine is escalating pretty badly lately… I have some weird habits when my anxiety is too high. Sometimes I’ll rub my hands on my legs when I’m sitting, sometimes my ODC with cleanliness gets worse, sometimes I smack the heels of my hands together with rapid fire speed… But I find myself singing most often. Sometimes I sing what I’m doing to a tune stuck in my head, sometimes I make up parodies on the fly (I have a great one I made for Sebastian called “Catzilla”). Sometimes I just sing…

I first heard “Happiness Runs” in, of all things, a cat food commercial. Obviously it wasn’t the original by Donovan…

I’ve been a fan of his for a long time. And no, not from the beginning. I’m not that old. Close, but no… I was born about 5 years after. Anyway… I like this particular song a lot. It’s like the zen of Donovan. If you listen to the lyrics, they really make sense, especially certain lines: “Everybody is a part of everything anyway, You can have everything if you let yourself be”. The man didn’t get enough credit for being a genius… In fact, if you check out the video link, there is a woman who commented and said whenever she was down or uncertain, she would sing this song and everything would be right again. It’s worked for her for years. I’ve been singing this one myself for quite a while. Sometimes I sing “Wear Your Love Like Heaven” because it’s soothing.

But back to the subject at hand…

For quite some time, I’ve had this feeling that I’m a bit of a sociopath. Wait… I’m sorry, we should use the correct vernacular of antisocial personality disorder. I don’t like that… Lots of people are antisocial. It doesn’t make you a sociopath… In any case, I do have certain traits of a sociopath. I sometimes exhibit reckless behavior (non-criminal, mostly impulsive acts where I don’t consider consequences), I don’t usually respect social norms, I manipulate people, I don’t often feel remorse or guilt (it depends on the situation) and I have a lack of empathy. Like a complete lack of empathy no matter what the situation. I can understand emotions that people are having and why, but I don’t have some of them myself. But not all sociopaths or psychopaths are like they show you on TV. Very few are murderers and serial killers.

My main problem is being on the colder side and saying things I shouldn’t…

This all started Sunday when I got a call from my friend, Morticia (I wrote about her in another entry). For some time, now, she’s been calling me several times a day to cry about the same shit. She got back with Gomez who she swore was a changed man. I told her it wouldn’t last. It didn’t… So when she bitches about him, I remind her that I told her this would happen and she changes the subject or starts making excuses for him to avoid admitting she was wrong to go back to him, like, “He’s only like this when he’s drunk”… Um, no… He’s like this whether he’s drunk or not. It’s still a huge red flag she’s avoiding. Then she’ll tell me that she’s different with him now, she’s never been this sick of his shit. Come on, who are you trying to convince with that, me or yourself…?

Every day for months I’m getting bombarded with her crying to me about the same woes she has over and over. Mind you, they’re ones she pretty much caused herself. She likes to think she’s intelligent (trust me, she’s full of shit on that… intelligent people don’t say “disorientated”) but she makes poor choices and cries to me about them. I’m so sick of it, I’ve taken to not answering her calls a lot of the time (she sometimes calls half a dozen times a day). I’m even using poor excuses. She probably thinks I have narcolepsy or explosive diarrhea because I usually say I was sleeping or in the bathroom. That’s sad when you avoid someone to that extent. But I have to in order to keep some semblance of my sanity. I have my own huge stressors to worry about. I don’t need to hear hers…

A few days ago, she called me to tell me her mother was in the hospital… It didn’t sound like a good prognosis, which I think she knows that. So there she is, blubbering to me over the phone about it… I’m just about half-past give a shit with Morticia as it is, so this just added to the list of things she was going to cry to me about.

I was getting ready to go to an outing with friends at the time. When I got off the phone, I just totally vented to one of them, saying that Morticia was a whiny bitch, she needs to suck it the fuck up and deal with it, everyone dies, she needs to stop being such a baby… Not thinking at the time that I was really venting to the wrong person… Unfortunately, I vented to the person who recently lost the last parent they had. And I didn’t even realize it for probably a half hour… See? Sociopaths do shit like that.

When I realized my social faux-pas, I told the person I didn’t mean to hurt their feelings by what I said about Morticia. Thankfully, they didn’t take offense. I find that amazing. I frequently offend people, but I suppose those closest to me understand how I am…

I’ve had people who have lost parents tell me they’re afraid to see what’s going to happen when my mother passes. They seem to think I have a close bond with her, which I really don’t. Besides, that’s not me. Do I get upset when people pass? Sure… But not like people think. And usually, I don’t have time for that falling apart shit. When my grandmother passed, I wasn’t quite 16 yet. My mother and sister were a train wreck. Who did they have to be strong for them? My mother’s asshole boyfriend?! He was always a waste of space. Someone needed to step the fuck up and help them deal with things. I took that job upon myself because I seemed the logical choice, given my sociopathic tendencies. And I wasn’t even 16 yet… I suppose that’s why I expect people to suck that shit up and do what you have to. I still do that to this day. But I shouldn’t expect others to be like me…

I realize we can all be a bit insensitive at times and say dumb things to people. But not like this…

I’m pretty sure this is why I have only a few friends. They’re the only ones who understand and can put up with my shit. It’s hard to go through life this way sometimes. I’ve even been called narcissistic by some. Actually, I’m self-loathing, not self-loving… It’s just because I come across as cold and unfeeling sometimes. Could I feel sympathy for Morticia’s situation with her mother? No… I really didn’t. This is why I avoid situations where I verbally have to tell people I’m sorry for their loss. I’m really not, so it never sounds genuine. I know it, they know it… It’s very awkward.

I facepalm a LOT more than I should have to…

Coincidentally, the person who called me narcissistic once is the brother of the person I mentioned earlier who had recently lost their last parent.

In all honesty, he should look in a mirror to see what a true narcissist is… I’ve been saying that for years. And my point was proven with the passing of their parents. He didn’t shed one fucking tear for either parent. All he was concerned about was taking things that were of value and fucking over his siblings. I may be an asshole and not express feelings like normal people, but I’m not that much of an asshole… But what do I know, right…? He’s one that thinks he’s so smucking fart and everyone else is an idiot. And people think I’m a bad person. At least I can admit I’m a sociopath. I’m an asshole by accident of nature. It’s different when you’re an asshole by choice…

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						1
2	3	4	5	6	7	8
9	10	11	12	13	14	15
16	17	18	19	20	21	22
23	24	25	26	27	28	29
30	31