sanity is over rated

i should know.  i looked over the opposition, took my pills, and looked at what that brought me.

i'm not complaining about my sanity.  it's reassuring to not freak out about minor upsets.  it's good to not see a dead animal and need to take a day off to recuperate.  it's nice to go out in public and not feel so much like an absolute freak.

i mean, i still mumble things to myself, and count on my fingers in a way that can't be reassuring to other people.

but feeling like this.

with what i think is what people know as "normal" in my hands.

it's weird and difficult and challenging.

when you know no one else sees what you see, and know that what makes you panic might  not exist, it's easy to draw away and accept that you're in a fantasy realm.

but when you crash down to the real world, and have to deal with trash, and the leaves you tracked in on your shoes, and "laundry".

shit turns out to be real.



so, a check-in on things:

1. my favorite forum turns out to be moderated by racists, so i guess it's not my favorite anymore?
2. i feel like i should write more, but i've been getting home at like 8pm.  
1. not hating your work means you have less time for porn.
2. this feels like it should be a positive?
3. nice that the country understands useless insanity now.  would have even nicer 24 months ago, but i guess i have to live with the repercussions of anti-democratic fascist jurists being placed by corrupt fascists.
4. or, you know, walls and shakespeare and such. 
1. just a suggestion.

oh no, don't say it's true.

please?

i got back from travel.  i'm super tired and exhausted, and just really want to go to sleep.

but then i check my twitter, and i see the news.


i'm going to listen to some more music for a bit, and then go to sleep, and hope that this is all just a nightmare, and i'll awake to happier tidings.

so. yay. psychological revelations that come up when you listen to 80s new wave.

you won't understand this.

because the backstory i'd have to provide is far longer than my currently drunk mind can provide.

here's the shortest version i can come up with.

this song played a lot when i did things i regret, and that shame has stuck with the opening piano in the back of my brain for years.

if you can sort out reasons why, just keep your damn mouth shut.  i know my reasons.

i've been having a panic attack since 9am this morning.

i do not like that.

i wrote some of the new part last night.  i wanted to write more tonight, but i can't.

it is already longer than other parts, and i haven't even gotten to the main story point.  i continues to have very little sex or kinky stuff.

sorry.

i just hate everything so much.

wake up.  stay in bed as long as possible.  go to work.  solve stupid problems for what is more money than i really need to survive, but also not enough for me to actually be happy solving those stupid problems.  go to store.  buy stupid junky food that has a 50/50 chance of either getting eaten or left to rot in my fridge.  go home.  hate all the shitty food i just bought, eat a thing of frozen mac and cheese instead.  watch stupid tv all evening while reading crap on the internet that maybe was once fun, but now just seems like a boring trudge to keep up.  go to bed and instead of sleeping (since that doesn't work anymore), watch youtube videos as i feel the springs of the mattress i just bought a year ago for like $1200 slowly stabbing me in the back until my eyes water from yawns and i put my computer away to try and pass out.

i'm supposed to do this for another like forty something years?

why?

what's the point?  what do i get out of this shit?

fucking. shit.

i guess this is why you don't double up on omegle tabs.

for fucks sake.

i have to get up early tomorrow.

because we have to do a telecon the day after a three day weekend.  because of course we do.

why would that be a problem?  you've only had THREE DAYS to go learn how not sleeping in works.

"plus, we have kids and shit, and so we wake up the same time everyday, so why does that matter?"

seriously.  this is why i hate people and wish they'd die.  not all of us get to have families, you jerks.

but anyway, i took the sleeping pill.

no

fucking

effect.

i'm up and writing this post, and wtf?




anyway, you'll probably get an exhibition story tomorrow.  it's written, i just need to do the last proofread on it.



sorry people who wanted more spa treatment.  i can only write what my brain wants to write.  this was the decision.