Friday, January 2, 2009

:|

Dicks.

You know what scares me? That 2010 is just around the corner. That's spooky.

Usually I'd ask people to qualify such statements with why it's spooky but I've long since grown past that phase of my existence. You're right, an arbitrary measurement of time is downright eerie.
In retrospect, it almost seems like I spent the year wrestling with depression, anxiety, and suicidal impulses, and it just wasn't fun.

Too bad you didn't throw in the towel. That way I might not be reading this garbage.
GAAAAAAAAAAAAARBAGE IS WHAT IT IS.
It pisses me off that nobody told me that I could register with the student disability services, or that I could get disability benefits, or how to get financial aid for meds or roughly a thousand other things that I needed to know.

Why wouldn't you look into such things? Why wouldn't you say "well my life is a torrent of pain and misery, I better see if I can somehow alleviate my problems." But no, none of that. Instead you kicked back and waited for someone to solve your problems for you.
The rest of my family, to the man, have decided that I am merely a hypochondriac whose pills and frequent doctor's visits are a bid for attention.

This is the first I'm hearing of you and I think that.

At the last doctor's visit, in fact, I had had a "transvaginal ultrasound," during which the technician took something shaped like the Wii remote controller and jammed it up my vagina.

EROTIC.

I do want more attention, but there's easier and less painful ways to get it.

But not nearly as EROTIC.

Ultrasound = pregnancy, to him, but I = virgin.

SHE IS BEARING OUR SAVIOR. Or a lying whore, whichever makes most sense.
"I told you about this, dad. That's why I take metformin."

"And what's that?"

"It's a drug that does something to your blood sugar, I think. They usually prescribe it to diabetics."

Yeah, don't Google the medications you're taking. I'm not too familiar with the drugs they shove off on crazies to get them to go away, but the name "Metformin" makes me think whatever it is, it isn't fucking around.
Dad calls it my bedroom. He made it a point that I got the nicest room, and I'm the only one who isn't sharing a bedroom.

I should point out here that there are nine children in this family. Nine.
Also he would make it a point to give you the good bedroom because I'm sure you'd pitch a bitch until you had your way.
On one hand good for you, you don't have to share your space with slobs, but on the other, be less of a cunt.
I feel myself leaving -- pulling up roots, unlatching tentacles, letting go. I feel unwelcome and harassed, and I simply want to leave. Part of the problem is this room that isn't my room, but is my room; the room I helped decorate but can't really make my own. My need for a place to withdraw too is overwhelming, and this room is too impersonal.

Crazy punctuation made that overly hard to understand for what could have easily been summarized as "I'm tired of living with nine+ people so I'm moving out because I'm an adult and can do such things under my own free will."
Now there's a major too long, didn't read story about a bookshelf or some shit. I guess it's supposed to accentuate how alienated this rare snowflake is but quite frankly I don't give a shit about her diseased plight.
That's what she is. A disease. She can't define herself how normal people might: through their interactions with others, their achievements or even a set of character traits. Instead, she defines herself by how many she inflicts.
The thing I want most, the thing that I honestly need, is a supportive environment. A place where I can be myself.

You are you. You are the Plague of Justinian.
If I want to be confident, I need active support. Because without it, I will collapse, like an Chinese-made mail-order bookshelf.

Collapse like a pedantic piece of writing. "An" Chinese made bookshelf indeed.
Here's a comment form said topic:
i tried to read but I'm drunk.

Which is actually how I advise reading this tripe. While drunk, that is.
Now she has posted pictures of herself and she looks about how I expected. Unkempt, slightly overweight, posture like a question mark-- if she were male she'd be balding and impotent already.
For some goddamn reason I have been getting cramps in my right calf muscle. Just the right calf. And I haven't been exercising or doing anything, and I think I'm getting it at night. WTF. Whyyyyy.

Walking funny, sleeping funny, uhh--
I know from a little research that this is not too uncommon, but it still sucks and is weird, as is my insomnia, leg-kicking, and the fact that my ADHD medicine isn't working yet.
Right there. That's why.
Also you're on ADHD meds, something for what the doctors call ovarian cysts (a serious fuck medical condition to be sure) but factoring in your other nuttiness, I doubt very much you have them.

It's possible that this has something to do with hypoglycemia.
I think I have some advice for you, from a game called Oblivion:


So far, haven't notice anything on Strattera except for the following:

Followed by a litany of shit.

I start wondering how much EPA/DHA our fish oil tablets contain.

Happens to me all the time.

So, if your question is "What's Strattera like?" my answer is that it isn't doing dick.

Actually my question is "why am I still reading this?" Followed by "I wish I had some Valium to get me through this."
... That isn't really a question.

I did eventually write those letters, which is why I never got diagnosed before.

With ADHD, that is. Sometimes I don't feel like doing shit, so I don't. Or I force myself, as the case may be.
Apparently "criminal lack of discipline" equates with ADHD in today's society.
I guess you could characterize anxiety as a voice repeating endlessly a sentence in your head, and even though it's usually useless and unhelpful crap like "You're dumb, you're dumb," or something worse, when I'm supposed to be doing something it can be helpful.

You fancy yourself a writer and that's the best you can fucking do with an anxiety attack?
So when I was in school, the voice was often going, "Write that paper or you will fail."

That's not anxiety. That's a good idea.

Thing is, I can have beer without alcohol, but I can't have coffee-less coffee.

Decaf.

No, decaf isn't okay.

Oh--
Some other chemicals in there are what messes me up, I don't know what.
Coffee is very acidic so a sensitive stomach might have problems--
Tea is okay, though, and I really like hot tea, so that's cool.

Hot tea, cool, har har har har.
Then I came down with the flu, and spent much of the day after Thanksgiving in bed, trying not to die.

You dodged the bullet twice, apparently. I'm here to inform you that death moves at its own pace and one day it will catch up.

No one was burned during the Salem witch trials.

No, indeed, that was the Inquisition.
Also, gay men were never burned at the stake as punishment and that's not where the word "faggot" comes from.

Regular fountain of knowledge.

Then Dr. Kandy Kane did what I did not expect and told me to drop my pants.

DR. KANDY KANE. I WOULD NEVER GOT TO A DOCTOR KANDY KANE.
She stuck the soup spoons in my vulva and I started hurting. She didn’t say “Relax!” which is why I like her.

HOLD STILL WHILE I SHOVE THIS GLOVED FIST INTO YOUR VAGINAL CAVITY.
Have you ever asked yourself, "How many jokes could a cartoonist make about Prometheus being chained to a rock and having his liver eaten every day by an eagle?"

No but I have often mused that the Greek gods are top tier trollin' on a near constant basis.
That's why I like them, actually. Even the supposedly benevolent ones are basically just doing it for their own entertainment.
That's what this bitch needs, actually. Just pick your favorite god from antiquity and try to emulate their divine example as best you can. With a little time and effort you, too, can be top tier trollin' on a daily basis.
It's an incredible power that not everyone can (or should) be privy to, and with it comes an incredible responsibility to use it indiscriminately, but should you follow this path then you'll know you were meant for it.
Shit if that's too much work for you just study closely Eris, Goddess of Discord's golden apple scheme that started the Trojan war. Just Wikipedia "The Judgement of Paris" and kick back.
Epic (literally epic poetry) tier trolling there.

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