Sunday, March 18, 2018

Just Eyesores

Facebook and Twitter are filled with graduation posts and I don't want to see them. It's dangerous to scroll down when I just want to look at memes. I am only safe here, in Blogger, alone in my thoughts. Everyone is celebrating a ceremony which is a big deal, I know, but for me, it's just a meaningless tradition that they force us to take part on. Kind of like birthdays and anniversaries. Why am I not thrilled with big transitions and milestones in life anymore?

Friday, March 16, 2018

Just that I Have Something in My Chest and I Can't Tell What It Is

Let me open this up by saying a gross statement... Wait, never mind. It's gross. I'll just use a euphemism. Let's say... Aunt Flo visited from Reading yesterday. Okay. Enough.

Last week I keep feeling shitty. Even two weeks ago I felt shitty. I just keep saying that I feel shitty even three weeks ago. I don't know if Aunt Flo is connected to why I always feel shitty before she comes. I just feel shitty even if she doesn't.

A few nights ago, I was bored so I took an online test about antisocial personality disorder and whaddaya know, I got this:

The quiz did say that the quiz is not a proper way to diagnose Antisocial Personality Disorder. Maybe the disorder has the same symptoms of what my real diagnosis is. Whatever. Haha. I still hate people. I just want to cease to exist.

There's this old show called Malcom in the Middle where in one episode, Malcolm decided not to talk back every time someone said something stupid. It was okay, since he received positive results. He got stuff he wanted. However, by the end of the episode, he got peptic ulcer because of all the feelings he suppressed. He coughed blood at his basketball coach. I wish I would cough up blood. I randomly think of coughing up blood since elementary. I would imagine myself spitting out blood during class and everyone would panic but I would just laugh it off. I was in fourth grade as far as I can remember when I started to think about these things.

My abnormality sometimes is a hindrance. But I think that the world would seem a little less interesting if people like me didn't exist. Still, I would think that I wish I didn't exist at all because I don't see a point. We would die. It's like having to exist is a meaningless experience.

I should stop thinking like this now. My train of thought is continuous if it is started. Now I'm just stopping it because it seems like everything that I am typing is just negative.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Just About Mentality Again

I did not know what my diagnosis was. I wasn't there when the psychiatrist explained it. I mean, I was physically there, but my mind was... somewhere else.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Just Trying to be a Smartass When What I am Actually Saying Doesn't Really Mean Anything

I just thought of how the protagonist of Slumdog Millionaire wasn't really smart, just good at associating facts based from his past experiences. People think of a person as intelligent when they could share stuff they didn't know about. What they don't know is, it is easier to remember trivial matters if they pay attention to their surroundings when they are being fed some information. For example, on the day I learned how the rock pumice looked like, my closest friend at the time submitted the project to our science teacher. She pointed at the rock, saying it's incorrectly labeled, and that it was actually pumice. I remember how the backdrop of the project was red, and how I felt really bad that I did not know how to make the project, and how I felt relieved that my friend could just add me as a partner instead. I just did not know how rocks would look like. Of course I knew what rocks were, but you had to label them with their names and classify them as sedimentary, igneous, or metamorphic rocks. Anyways, my point is, what you thought was being smart, was actually being good at connecting the dots. Or I don't know. Maybe they really are smart in a way.

Thursday, March 08, 2018

Just My Illustration of Myself Every Time Someone Says Something Stupid

Just that I Could Write Some More, but I Guess This is Enough

Having a good memory is sometimes a curse. You would chat up a former classmate from elementary, whom has not seen you for six years, but you still clearly remember their full name. You would assume they would remember you because you, yourself, does. However, their reply goes, "Who are you?". You are okay with that, since it has been so long. You try to explain that you were classmates in grade one, but they deny that. Either they claim to have a different section or say that they were at a different school that time. You know that isn't true. You remember this clearly, because you know in that year was the year both of you played in the playground, riding on the seesaws. You won't reply anymore because you see that they have forgotten. It's not worth it. What you thought was memories to keep was simply a forgettable experience for them. Sometimes, having a good memory is a curse.

Monday, March 05, 2018

Just Going to Sing the First Line of The Sound of Silence

I feel really crappy. I thought I would feel better when I wake up but everything feels like shit. I usually feel better in the morning. Now, I don't. Maybe I'm getting my period soon. Hormones always make me feel shitty. Why is the agony longer now? Two weeks ago, I was all euphoric. This week, I want to kill myself. I keep getting memories back in my psychotic daze. People ask the most private questions and I answer them, even though it would make me feel bad. When chatting, I end up speaking out things that probably shouldn't, but probably better if I did. My death joke tally is getting high, that it kind of doesn't feel like they are jokes anymore. Maybe I'm just saying all of these because I'm getting my period soon. It sucks that this is all because of some womanly cycle that is natural. It's like you are born just to suffer. People would think I'm optimistic because I'm always smiling. I hate people. Maybe I wouldn't say these crap next week. Maybe I would think otherwise in the later days. Maybe I would take all of what I said back. I say maybe a lot because nothing is certain. Only death is certain, but we aren't certain when. We just know that we die in the end, but we couldn't tell what time or date that ould be.

Saturday, March 03, 2018

Just Fucking Hate Nightmares

My mom died in a dream again.

She didn't really die, she was dying. Either way, it's still bad.

Her face got suddenly yellow. There was shit on the floor everywhere.