I am dead, and I am quite obviously in Hell.
I have studied all the facts, and this is the only logical conclusion I can come to.
I am dead, in Hell, and I am going to kill everyone around me. If I ever lose this numbness that seems quite content to stick it out with me, that is. No, Mr. Rabbit, we are not in a good mental place today. I sincerely doubt we shall ever be in a good mental place again.
I have said this before, I know. Not here, perhaps, but I have said it. C-- says he remembers the last time I felt this way, this raw. If he remembers it, obviously it must not have been so very long ago.
I forswear allegiance to the human race! I reject any knowledge that I am kin to anyone on the face of this planet! I am going fucking nuts and all there is to do is remain calm.
I am not, I repeat, not depressed. I am nuts. There is a difference. I am given to understand that depressed people are exactly that: depressed. I am not, in any way, shape, or form, sad or unhappy. I am verging on desperate panic and I am trying to remain calm.
Okay, perhaps I am a little unhappy. That is to be expected when one is desperately panicking. One does not desperately panic if they are happy. One does not stay up all night and consider running to far away places, never to be heard from again, if one is happy.
Enough about the state of my mind. I will not discuss it further until I get it together. Suffice to say that my mind is held together with Elmer's Glue and badly faded photocopies, and someone came along and stripped away the glue.
I honestly meant to sleep last night. Really. But then, after I'd written yesterday's rambling, pointless entry, C-- came online. I am never one to pass up a conversation with C--. We ended up talking until nearly 1 a.m.. I printed up the conversation, and it ended up being six pages long. As C-- remarked, a record for the year of 1998.
He offered to send me some dxm...some kind of hallucinatory drug. We also had one of those tiring discussions that makes me feel like I beat my head against the wall repeatedly. C-- managed to hurt my feelings and, of course, instead of simply pointing it out, I had to be weird. This turned into a discussion about alternate views of reality. And whether or not we can truly know ourselves.
And the end result of all this? He asked me to let him know anytime he hurt my feelings so he could correct his behavior in the future. C– also reiterated that despite our differences, we are very much alike.
I think Someone (or his retarded little cow of a girlfriend – oops, fiancee) has been taking a few liberties with my e-mail address and my old favored screen name. I got an e-mail from some guy named James...it only contained his pic. No explanation, nothing. Granted, he's not bad-looking, as you will be able to see from the pic below (assuming I can load it), but I was honestly puzzled. So I e-mailed him asking what was up, and this was the response I got....
Well how easy we forget .however im sure this happens all the time on the net lol.I met you yesterday i was the handsome_n_hung guy ,you were skatter ...something ?what is that online name?Any Im Jamie from ontario and we agreed to exchange pics ...i was first so if you like send me a pic and maybe we can chat some more ...cya... James
1) I do not go into chatrooms, and I most certainly do not make a habit of talking to guys with screen names as crass as handsome_n_hung. 2) I never offer to exchange pictures. I do not want people to see all my hairy warts, and I do not have the free time required to search my library of floppies to find the disk with my picture. Nevermind the fact that uploading pictures on hotmail is a bitch.
So, I'm betting that Someone's been forced to petty retaliation. That or his ugly little skank-ho of a girlfriend (oops, I mean fiancee, of course)has. If I get another e-mail like this, fuckers, someone's gonna pay. Suspicious e-mails are just the start of what I could do or have done to whoever's doing this.
I have completely run out of the sort of sanity one needs to be patient and tolerant. One more fucking suspicious e-mail, and I'm taking these freaks out. I've had it with them.
(4:15 p.m.)Well, today's been another hectic, ugly day. Other than the phone call from Dirk, that is. He does an amazingly good job of calming me down, and he never says that I complain too much. He helps me keep things in perspective. As he says, if the person responsible for pretending to be me in a chat room and giving out my e-mail address is who I think it is, they'll be getting theirs soon enough.
And that's a promise, not a threat.
I don't know if I described my siamese fighting fishie in enough detail to you. It's blue with an undertone of red. Its fins aren't at all ragged, like a lot of them that have been kept in those tiny fishbowls too long. Granted, it doesn't do much except swim in place, flashing around its tank once in a while like a mad harem dancer.
I almost blew up at work today. I was already pressed because I had to have a project finished by three this afternoon, and Alex, idiot that he is, told one of the staffing specialists that I would be more than happy to log in about a thousand goddamn applications. So, she was standing at my desk (while I was at someone else's desk, printing the project), telling Alex that I needed to "get a move on" with the applications. And Alex, that dumb bastard, was just agreeing with her. So, I marched right up there and told her as coolly as possible, "Cathy, I'm working on a project that has a deadline this afternoon. I don't have time to work on those applications." She backed right up and said, "Okay," looking for all the world as though I'd slapped her.
I felt kind of bad then, and was about to apologize, but another woman from the office kidnapped me for an impromptu cigarette break. She and this seventy-five year-old-guy spent the next fifteen minutes cheering me up.
So here I am, my mood's come full circle. Perhaps I'll write more tonight. Or perhaps I'll sleep.
(8:45 p.m.)More Krisco news, if you aren't bored with her yet. She doesn't seem to be handling the breakup well. She spends a lot of time at home. And she now works at Domino's. How sweet. Like mother, like daughter.
You know, Aaron's girlfriend, Sonia, ventured the theory that I read so much because I don't like to have fun....I'm afraid I don't count bitching and throwing things at people for no good reason fun.
Always remember I love you all. Especially those of you who hate me.
