Dear, please take out the trash and clean the gutters.Like people don't know how much suffering real back pain causes. To me it's a reality, not one of those 'well, 30% of the population reports lower back pain' kind of things. You tell me your back hurts, I'll tell you about the titanium rods, screws, and mesh cages in my spine. You use it to get out of chores, I would rather do ten years of chores than be in this sort of agony. It's indescribable.
I can't honey, I wrenched my back getting out of bed.
Oh no! Okay, just sit on the couch. I'll do the work.
Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, please. Ten being the highest.Bitch, ten doesn't even cover how badly this hurts.
I've gotten very close the precipice of harming myself.
I've never thought about it in black-and-white terms, like 'shall I hurt myself today, or shan't I?' It's been a matter of 'has my mental and physical anguish manifested itself to a sufficient degree that I feel I need a release in the form of a knife against my arms?' It's a matter of scales. But fuck it, what difference does it make? I went out last night to a bar with a group of friends to celebrate a birthday. It felt like it made no difference that I was there. Like the party would have been just as good without me. I've been reduced to a B-grade friend inside my circle.
And I feel indifferent. I honestly don't feel one way or the other, at least in terms of what difference it makes to me. I feel more comfortable staying at home and minding my own business. Do I find some joy in being out and drinking, talking with women, and generally hanging out? Sure; I'm not a sociopath. On the other hand, I'm equally comfortable keeping myself to myself and just being alone. In fact, I find even more joy from that...if joy is even the correct term. I don't think it satisfies my precise emotions. I haven't felt real joy in about three years, and even then, as I look back on it now, I think it was more faked emotions. I was incredibly happy on Christmas morning when I unwrapped a brand new Kindle Fire my sister bought me, and a new pair of Skull Candy headphones from my mother. But was it pure joy? No.
Pain is like a filter. Particles of happiness shoot through the little holes every now and again, but the vast majority of emotions get bottlenecked.
I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.
I live at home, with my mum. Tonight she started crying. I will outline the situation as best I can.
1. I no longer have a mobile because I did the mathematics and it was not worth the monthly bill.
2. My friends have to call the house phone.
3. My sister is visiting for the holidays, and she sleeps on a futon in the office.
4. My mum moved the phone base unit from there into her bedroom.
5. I knew a friend was going to ring at about 23.15 or so last night so I told my mum she should put the phone on silent.
6. She didn't.
7. Friend rings.
8. Mum is obviously woken up by this.
9. Bitches for several minutes before I make my escape to the bars.
10. Mum comes home from work today and complains that she only got three hours of sleep. I know this is an exaggeration, but I console her for a bit.
11. It is now tonight at about 20.30 and she is going to bed, with the intention to sleep 'at least twelve hours.'
12. Unplugs the base unit from her room and tells me to plug it in upstairs.
13. I say she should not have unplugged it and instead should have just put it on silent, because I know from experience how much of a pain the fucking ass it is to hook it back up (DSL filters and the like).
14. She goes into a hissy fit and tells me to do it anyway.
15. I don't really comprehend what she is saying, because she is making no sense.
16. I proceed to plug the phone unit into a socket downstairs because as far as I know there is only one phone plug upstairs, which already has one plugged in.
17. I didn't realise that without the base unit plugged in, my satellite unit won't function.
18. She calls on her mobile to check if it rings.
19. It doesn't.
20. She gets more mad, because she's concerned that her parents are going to die in the middle of the night and she will need to pick up the phone.
21. Wut. Then why did you unplug the phone?
22. The sheer logic of this makes her more mad.
23. She says 'you just don't understand my life.'
24. I agree and say I don't care either, because at this point it's been about twenty minutes and her illogicality is giving me a migraine.
25. She repeats this several times and then starts crying.
26. I know at this point she won't sleep now because she's put too much pressure on sleeping. Like when you know you have to get up early and have trouble getting to sleep because you're anxious. She's put too much pressure on getting a lot of sleep so in turn that will make the sleep shitty.
27. She goes to bed downstairs and slams the door.
28. I get mad and watch some basketball on my computer.
29. She comes back upstairs after awhile because she tried to plug the base unit back in her room but it doesn't work.
30. I go downstairs to fix it.
31. She didn't plug it into the jack far enough.
32. This whole time I'm fucking confused. If you didn't want to hear the phone ring, just put it on silent. If you're concerned that someone will have an emergency, then why put it on silent in the first place?
33. The sheer logic of this makes her more upset.
34. I come upstairs frustrated as fuck.
Whatever. I think it's just a woman thing. Logic upsets them. I remember getting into so many arguments with an ex-girlfriend because she was the most illogical person I've ever met. For example, she would get mad at me if I went out with friends (we went to different universities, first about two hours apart, then she transferred to one about fifteen hours away) because there would be women there and I would talk to them. Having enough of her complaints, I just stayed in. Then she would get mad at me for staying in, so I would go out again. Then she would get mad at me for going out. Repeat ad nauseam.
I really feel like I'm teetering on a knife point. On one side is sanity and social normalcy; on the other is a complete loss of my mental faculties. It's chaos where I am, and I feel like just a little knock one way or the other will put me into the bad side. Of course that's assuming 'bad side' is insanity. At this point I'm not certain. In fact, I almost think that if I fall into complete insanity that life will be much more satisfying. I will be devoid of responsibility. As an insane person, I will not be expected to contribute to the greater society at large. I think that would be very nice. Nothing would be needed from me, and for once people would know exactly what is wrong with me. Simply saying I have 'generalised psychosis' is about as specific as saying I'm attracted to women as a whole, when I find large women gross and anorexic women even more disgusting.
But fuck me, right? If I was meant to lead a fulfilling life, I would be leading one. I suppose that big 'FUCK YOU' was meant for me in the first place. I'm cursed. It's been fairly obvious that the director of my fate is an enormous jackass. It's simply not possible for me to be so soundly unlucky in so many different ways. Like, why would have so much physically and mentally wrong with me, and yet none of my siblings are even remotely ill? And why do I have such bad luck with women friends? I either fall for the crazy ones or the slutty ones. I have yet to find a ladyfriend who is both sane and not slutty. Maybe I just attract that sort of thing because of my indifference. I don't know. It's got to be something inherently defective inside me, because it can't be coincidence
Whatever bitches, I'm going to go watch Jackass 2.5 and masturbate.
While eating M&Ms.
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