I’m Living A Lie, And It’s Not The Best Thing For Me


Being tired intensifies everything.

It’s 5am and I just got home and settled in for the night . . . day. . . morning? Whatever. I had to park at the bottom of the hill behind my mother’s car; hopefully the bitch LandLord doesn’t show up for early sunday morning inspection or whatever weird cult shit they do because you’re not supposed to double park in our narrow little lot. Honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck. It’s 5am. I’m not going to park a mile down the street because some people in our apartment complex decide to have five fucking cars.

Instead of spending money on five fucking cars, spend it on a house so you don’t have to live next to us. Since you have so much fucking money.

Warning: I will curse profusely in this post. Sensitive eyes and innocent minds and devout followers of conservative faiths would do best to turn away and never look back.

img_20151213_061840.jpgMy diet tonight consisted of Pepperoni Pizza, Salad, “Brookside” Dark chocolate Goji & Raspberry Flavored chocolate . . . fuckers . . .and Hot Cheetos and Bai juice. As you can guess, my stomach is a riot right now. It’s been gurgling all night and it’s slightly nauseated. I should know better than to mix Pizza with chocolate and caffeine.

Sometimes I just don’t care. It gets ridiculous how much I don’t care. I’ll forget to eat and I won’t care. I’ll binge eat and wipe the cabinets and refrigerator clear of food and I won’t care. When I’m tired my desire to care is even less. It’s one reason I don’t care to drive when I’m this tired; too much energy to exert to give a fuck if I hit the drunk biker or the stumbling dude on the bridge or the car coming at me.

I’m supposed to be up in four hours. I don’t know if I’m going to sleep tonight or not. I don’t care, honestly.

But I know I’m going to be around a lot of people tomorrow and like I said, when I’m tired everything is ten times worse.

Being in the dark is ten times worse. I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but my boyfriend’s room is a garage in his parents house. Besides the fact that it gets cold as fuck, it’s also ten miles from the nearest bathroom. I hate walking through the house when it’s dark. I hate walking up the hall when it’s dark. I hate stumbling into the bathroom when it’s dark and tonight, since I was tired and feeling ill, I could barely make it. I got halfway across the living room floor before I ran back in his room and grabbed my phone.

It didn’t give me much comfort. I still ran. I always expect something to be standing at the top of the stairs. I felt like something was hovering over my shoulders, watching me, and when I got into the bathroom I closed the door as quickly as possible. When I went back out I almost fell on my ass stumbling down the steps because I had to turn around and shine the light up the hall to make sure there was nothing there.

831152385bb589f8db0ef71b5c3c6066Obviously it’s dark outside. I love being up at night, I love being out in the fresh air, but I can’t walk from my car to my apartment without feeling like something is hunched in the shadows waiting for me. Usually I can swallow it pretty well but when I’m tired like this, I run my ass up that hill and to my apartment because I’m pretty sure someone is waiting to murder the fuck out of me.

There are little dark gaps between people’s cars that scream at me. If I look in them I think I see shadows and it only freaks me out more. Raccoons like to chill in the trees because why the fuck not and they’ll rustle the leaves and you can’t ever tell where they are. They could Ariel Dive on your head and rip your face to shreds and you’d never see it coming.

I can’t always tell the different between a bush, a garbage can, a tree, and a person. Often I have to squint at something real hard to make sure it’s not a person in a dark trench coat standing on the curb watching me, waiting to drag me to the depths of hell to torture my soul when, little does he know, my soul gets off on that kind of shit.

Anyway, I don’t know where that was going.

Sometimes my brain takes a few words and turns it into a few more words I didn’t mean to say. This evening I was combing my hair and I said out loud “You look like a squirrel”. To no one. I wasn’t looking in the mirror. I just said it out loud.

I do not look like a squirrel.


I don’t know. These are the nights I have to be careful if I do go to sleep because most likely I’ll be waking up every ten seconds by voices screaming other random lines at me like “ARE YOU AWAKE YET” until I wake up.

What a bastard.

Tonight I was walking to my car (It was parked on the street) and I jumped a mile in the air because the mail box I’d parked in front of looked like a tall skinny dude staring at me. I had to stop in the middle of the street and stare until I saw the mail box glint in the street light. I’m sure the Hispanic family across the street getting out of their car was wondering what was up with the girl standing in a puddle staring at a fucking mailbox.

Did I mention I came home to my dad cleaning the fucking bathroom at five am?

Once I parked, I stared out into the mist and was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of being followed. I glanced behind me four times while walking up the hill expecting to see someone duck behind the dumpster or in between the cars. Of course no one was there. That I saw.

When I reached my door I glanced down the hallway because I always do. I always feel watched from there too. Sometimes I hear rustling (which is weird because it’s just concrete and doors) and I freak out and shove my key in the door and burst through it and scare the shit out of my dad.

Now I’m sitting in my bedroom tired as fuck. I know I need to sleep but I also need to be up in a few hours. I think I just hit the “tired wall”. Runners have their “runners wall”. Once I pass the tired wall I’m just not fucking tired anymore. Or I’m so tired I don’t give a fuck.

I’ll just talk to the friends in my head and retreat into the fantasy world. They always make me feel comforted.


Usually when I’m this tired I take a whole bunch of personality quizzes and such because they’re so damn fun. According to PsychCentral I have a shit ton of disorders. I’m pretty sure everyone does at the hands of a website. They told me I wasn’t a psychopath so I guess that’s a good thing.

I just want to sleep. I want to sleep for days and days and I’d be happy about it. Sure, I’d get lonely, but it’d be a weird happy kind of lonely. I don’t want to get up and have responsibility, not because responsibility is too much but because I don’t have the energy to put in the effort you need to be responsible or independent. I know on the outside it looks like I got my shit together but I’m barely scraping by on a thread here. A spider silk thread.

I hate that I don’t understand how to be social but I also love it because I don’t want to be social. And I love the fact that I don’t want to be social not because it’s too uncomfortable (even though it is), but because I don’t get the same amount of enjoyment out of being social that everyone else does. How is being part of a group fun? I just . . .how? How is talking on the phone to friends fun? What’s the obsession with girls going to the bathroom together? I’m a woman and I’m like bitch, back the fuck up, I don’t need you to piss.


Why do women go to the salon together? What’s “girl talk”? Why do people go to crowded amusement parks to wait in line for five hours? Sure I go sometimes and it’s fun but that’s after I haven’t been out of the house in a while and am due for some excitement with people who I know well. What’s the point of having friends again? What’s the point of gossip and conversation?

I say that if I didn’t have anxiety I’d probably be outgoing but I feel like that was an uneducated answer. I’d still be alone in my room writing. I’d probably fantasize with violence a lot more because I’m a violent person and I’ve always wondered what it’s like to saw open a body. I wouldn’t want to do it, I just want to know how someone feels doing it. How do they detach themselves from reality like that. I’m weird.

Are you starting to see why people are wary of me?

Can you tell how tired I am by the fact that I’m blurting things I obviously shouldn’t?


Oh yeah, that job I applied for, the one with the questions where they wanted to make me sound like a fucking proper bitch-boy? They emailed me at three in the morning to say they didn’t have a position for me.

By discovering more of who I am I see that I’m NOT AT ALL who I was always trying to be. I’m friendly but not in a personal way; I’m friendly like the clerk at the grocery store ringing up your groceries. I’m friendly because that’s what you expect me to be. I do love but I feel like it comes with so many other responsibilities that it’s hard to have a relationship with me. I care for everyone but once again, not in a personal way, in a humane way. I don’t mind having one or two acquaintances to do things with. I care about you because you are of the same species and race and I want to benefit you in your survival.

I like weird shit. I like watching documentaries on serial killers and necrophiliacs.

Sex interests me only when it’s kinky enough. I won’t go into detail for your sake.

I suck at organization and I don’t give a shit! I actually don’t give a flying fuck! My room is thrashed and I don’t give a fuck. I’m lying to myself when it’s fucking neat. My brain isn’t neat why the hell should my room be neat? To please who?

This is my true theme song!

I say random shit!

I’m aloof when I’m in a crowd and I’ve been caring too much about it, that’s why I think everyone’s talking about me. I’m a solitary person. If you don’t like it, don’t be around me.

I want my social anxiety to be helped only so I can get through the world easier. I don’t want “friends”. I want people I talk to, hang out with once in a while; I want to be able to network and have cool career opportunities. But otherwise I don’t give two shits. I don’t. Don’t fucking call me “just to talk” because I’m “your friend”. I don’t care how hot Billy is and I don’t care if you tripped on the sidewalk today. I don’t care what you like. I don’t care if you don’t like the fact that my conversation skills suck. I don’t care about study groups. Fuck friendship, it bores me. I don’t understand it and it bores me! 


This is who I am. And I like it. 

This post is long and do you think I give a shit? NOPE!

Tonight has made me realize I’ve been faking my way through life since I was born. 

Welcome to my Rebirth.

I’m timid only because of anxiety but also because of the fact that I know I’m different than you. I understand things differently than you. I see the world differently than you. I’m emotional in response to myself but not in response to this world. And I’m fully aware that you don’t accept that.



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