I shouldn’t be here. Probably shouldn’t have come here at all!
I should go away again, it would be best for us. Neither of us need me right now. Let’s wait until I can handle things better.
I have procrastinating to do, and people to piss off, dreams to fail, goals to fall short of, work to be dismissed from.
Please don’t do that nice thing for me. Please don’t help me with this. Don’t support me in my endeavors. I’m crazy, it’s hilarious to me that you are still here. Why are you speaking nicely to me, what knife is there for me to fall on?
Why is all good news retranslated to bad news? What kind of alien am I, what language am I programmed in?
I would love to celebrate, to recreate. Hah, I have never been able to participate. I have never known anything but sabotage, greed, selfishness and paranoia. I will always be watching, never participating. I have good news to share, so naturally, my mother is helping me search for all the demons that aren’t there.
I told her there’s no catch. In her voice, she knew. There is always a catch. My mom taught me that, with all of her different varieties of anxious, manipulative paranoid bullshit. I think her mom taught her the same thing, she is also miserable and sick from the same poison. I am very empathetic to her situation. When the waves of unwanted empathy subside, I wish that she was capable of comprehending the existence of other people, like her daughter. “Daughter” I guess. I’m a total fuckboy, but she can’t handle that bomb right now. In the meantime, I am focusing my efforts on celebration.
LMAO yes, celebration. Would sooner suck the serotonin out of a one of these hillfuckers. What is the point of being a lesbian, if you can’t be a serotonin-vampire? I should be able to suck the happiness out of unwitting rednecks. It is only fair. I should also be able to put my parents in a cellar, and age them until maturity. People-maturing powers are obviously a power with this serotonin-vampire lore. I need conversation, advice, and comfort from someone who isn’t competing with me.
Mind you, I almost never talk to my family. So it was mostly just weird as fuck to talk at all. She thought something was wrong, like I was in the hospital. In her defense, I’m AM usually calling because of some sort of major health problem.
Here’s a poem I wrote about it:
LIFE IS SO UNFAIR— by Becky WTGH
Woe is me.
Oh look, we’re DOING IT!!!
I love you, you love me, we are doing it.
No more excuses,
no more reasons to wait.