when somebody loved me

i'm sad.  about a lot of things.  i have to get up early to go to therapy tomorrow.  that's kind of a sticking point on the sad.

i don't want to go.  she was kind of condescending last time, with a "i don't think these are real panic attacks."  and "maybe try exercising" and "write down when you have these attacks".

which i didn't do.  i didn't exercise, because exercise sucks, and makes me ache all over.  and i compiled a list in my head of shit that made me panic attack, but i never wrote it down, so either i'm rushing my homework tomorrow, or just going in to say it in words, and accept that she's not going to buy that.

i mean, i guess the biggest problem here is that she was super dismissive in my first session, so i kind of just want her to go away.  so i'm thinking about skipping, since, you know, fuck her, right?

but that's probably an unhealthy urge.  everybody deserves two sessions, right?  even if she didn't read any of my paperwork before our first meeting.  she's busy, right?  she just wasn't "meh, whatever.  i get paid either way."

let's organize thoughts here for then, if i'm willing to pop this up in the office.

1. panic attack about what to get for dinner.  sat in the parking lot at work for ten minutes trying to sort out a solution.  i had nothing in the freezer for emergency food, so i had to get something out.  taco bell.  taco bell is always there.
1. taco bell always tastes like ash and failure.
2. the saturday i had a panic attack about going to therapy.  what if i do this and never ever get better?  this led to puking in the shower as i tried to calm down.  shower puke is the most convenient, but least fun form of puke.
3. the parking lot at the place for dinner was full.  should i bother?  nope.  let's run off to the far side of the mountains to get something dumb for dinner.  sure, it'll take even longer than just waiting here, but i get to run away.  no one can catch you if you're running.
4. i keep having fantasies about quitting my job.  "fuck you, and fuck you for lying to me about getting a raise!"  i don't know if he's lying, but it's been so long, it just feels like it must be a lie.
5. my hobbies are:
1. reading the internet for current events shit
2. reading tumblr for super offensive porn
3. reading pixiv for even more super more offensiver porn
4. recreational math, because i'm dumb like that.
5. not cleaning things.
6. i don't have friends because i constantly see the flaws in other people, and assume everyone else finds similar flaws in me, and if being with them pains me so much, me being with them must pain them so much more.
7. it's better this way.  i can stay locked away at home, and we can all just enjoy my nonsense until i eventually choke on puke and make a splot on the floor.
1. i recognize that this isn't a healthy thought.

but, also, consider:

1. people actively lock up dogs and pets in places where they can't get food or water or exercise.  intentionally.  to "teach a lesson".  i'm the same kind of thing as that monster.  why is my level of monster less?
2. people think that poor people are gross leeches who should be cut off to fix their own problems.  and then complain that they steal and shit in alleys.  i'm not surprised a lot of homeless people have mental illness problems trying to sort through that shit.
3. people are like "my sky god tells me you're a sinner because your love isn't listed in his big book of love.  i mean, marrying slaves is listed in the big book of love!"  we've had thousands of years to pull heads from asses.  why would we go back to thinking that any healthy relationship isn't cool?
4. racism.  sexism.  wtf?  just wtf?  do you know how much i hate seeing great porn with a tumblr comment of like "yeah, fuck that ugly nigger bitch in her stupid bitch cunt"?  what is wrong with people?

so, in conclusion, i eagerly await the day a surprise comet collides with the planet and incinerates everyone, because, seriously, you know we're kind of all awful in our own ways.

also, fuck that jerk-ass fucking yahweh of genesis 18:22.  "ok, fine, if I can find 10 decent people, i won't blow it the fuck up."  that's his price.  infinite power, but can only work on units of "whole cities", and has a minimum friendly fire value of 10 people.  "oh, but i'm going to knock up your wife.  you know.  as a favor.  that's how i roll."  honestly, how do people read their own religious texts and stick with that nonsense?

i hate everything and everyone, and wish i could just die.

this is probably going away soon, so.  you know.  get your comments in fast if you want to.

hey there. first up, i really want no one to panic about this. just, calm everything down, and don't get too worked up about it. let's all take a step back, ok?

i'm suicidal again.

whoa, whoa, whoa, read that title again.  i'm drunk. and i'm super slow about everything, so this isn't an imminent threat.

but honestly.  suicidal thoughts are back in full strength.

i've been kind of coasting on a wave of panic and anxiety that made me feel like if i killed myself, then i'm just pushing burdens onto other people.

but that's kind of been relieved.  i could totally kill myself today, and it'd probably annoy a bunch of people, but they wouldn't be super burdened.

so, wow.  this is fucked up.  "if i'm stressed beyond comprehension, i can push that into a balloon that represents my sanity, but if that stress depletes, the balloon deflates, and only death awaits."

"you should go to therapy, sammy.  this can be fixed".  thanks, my brain.  telling me the things that are true.  jerk.

so, hey,


think about things.  i write some more cool porn.  you like it.  but then, six decades later, we're dead, and just a disgrace to your descendants.  and then think a million years from then.  no one cares.  i'm not like some sort of porno-jesus.  i've been forgotten for a million years.


and then like a billion years from then, the sun is going to ignite everything into a burnt cinder anyway.


so why does anything matter?  if i killed myself, why is that some sort of tragedy, when after everything, we all end up as ash under an angry sun?

"but we could help people, sammy!"

yes.  we could.  but a major political party is suggesting that "mexicans should probably just die" and "or blacks.  pretty much anyone not white"  and "like, literally, anyone not white.  they can just get shot if you feel the desire."  also, "gay people are demons who need to be expelled."

we could help people.

if any cared.

understand the first sentence of this post now?  if not, try reading again.

to narrow things down

old people are awful.

i will one day be old, barring active actions to prevent that possibility on my part.

but one day, i'll probably be old (or dead).

but let's consider the old one, sammy, and hey, while we're at it, maybe stop being a jerk for once!

anyway,

old people.  why do they always like, fuck young children, and hate foreigners, and think gay people cause hurricanes?

seriously, if i could make hurricanes, you'd fucking know it.  i'd be just like, "oh, is it hurricane season?"

"no, sammy, it's christmas"

"OOPS, MOTHERFUCKING HURRICANE SHITTING IN YOUR FACE, JACKASSES@!"

really.  i'd be calling down the storms on all the fuckers.  but no, we're not magic witches with super powers.  that'd seriously be super cool.  i could write stories about that for years.

ok

breathe.


so hey, did you see me fucking panic my ass off on friday night?

no?  oh, that's because i sent that all to the place no one else can see.  here's how things worked.


i had a shitty week at work.

followed by a super shitty friday.

so i went home.


and remember how months ago i told you how i outsmarted my anxiety about having dinner by putting frozen dinners i liked in my freezer?

yeah.  i decided i didn't like any of those.

"get some pizza."

i didn't want pizza.



"sammy, i'm not getting what your point is here, so"

SHUT UP!

i always like pizza.  pizza is like my best friend who never tells me i'm a drunk.  pizza and vodka.  the three of us are super tight, yo.

so me sitting in my car, thinking about food, and pizza doesn't turn me on?  this is a fucking existential challenge.  who am i if i don't want pizza?

i love a tumblr about pizza and porn.  it's like someone kissed my tears away and in doing so, made my perfect happy land.

so i'm sitting there, hating the horrors of frozen food, and also not wanting pizza.  i drive mindlessly, eventually pulling into taco bell.

taco bell, "we're sorry you're here too, but at least we have some nacho cheese.  we hope that helps."

it did.  as much as tbell can do.  you're not magic, tacos.  and quesadillas.  and those quesadilla burrito things that look like so much work i can't imagine they're not full of spit.

so, hey.  that's how my friday went, and that's why you might have seen me writing tumblr posts about drunk driving to denny's on the other side of the island.

"don't drive drunk, sammy, that's how murder happens!"

duh.  i was angry because i was so drunk i couldn't go eat food that would totally give me super shitty runs.  i may hate myself (and a lot of other people), but i'm not going to put everyone in risk of me running them over.  i'm not a monster.

what was my other point?


honestly, there was a whole rant to put here about brown food.  not like "sammy, you're gross and like scat, stop being gross."  it was about how frozen/microwave food isn't brown.  you for-realsies cook food until it's brown, so it has that "brown flavor".  so you know it's good.  that's better than what i cobble together.

which makes me sad for the days when my brain was organized enough to actually sit down and cook for myself.  i did a bit on that last vacation.  it was good and brown, and i hate that i can't get my brain to work right so much of the time.

"sammy, you should get helpers!"

so, what i need is like a 1950's wife.  someone who lives at home while i go do work shit, and makes sure we don't get bugs (too late) or live in filth (too late) and makes sure i don't run out of clean clothes (it only counts if you get caught).  i think maybe i make enough to pay people to do those things?  how much does a fake wife cost?  do you have to pay more or less if you give them hugs?


what else is on the "you should talk to a therapist sooner than next month, sammy" list?

oh!  i wrote some more.  do you all remember "spa treatment"?  no?  you should look it up from a year ago when i totally stopped writing anything on it.  i put in a third of a half of a chapter, which means i need to stop masturbating to my own stories.  also, maybe lookup pipelining on gelbooru.  i'll do a link when it's closer.  but like, check out the concept to make sure you're on board before you start reading.

it's kind of hard when you write things and rub yourself raw, and then remember that most people would be disgusted by what you come up with.  i'm sorry, everyone.  i'm super sorry people who have said nice things about me.  i wish i was a better person than i am.


i kind of wish i had a taco right now.


i'm...sorry. :(