It has been established and very well known for some time that I am a highly neurotic person. I think everything I have is AIDS. And I'm not trying to be funny. I will get a cold and assume it's AIDS. I will have a headache and think I'm having an aneurism. I also drink 2 gallons of cranberry juice a week because I think anytime my sides hurt I've got kidney stones. Any time I see an old guy in a B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirt walking by me with a piece of paper I get in fighting stance because I'm certain he's about to serve me those papers and I'll be forced to go to court again. My apologies to all the old, recovering alcoholic men I have assaulted because I mistook them for a process server. But my neurosis sets me off. Here are some other things that cause me to go into a neurotic episode.
People with down syndrome eating: Nothing against people with down syndrome. My work buddy Derek has down syndrome and he's awesome because he loves Big Daddy Kane and the Petshop Boys. I just can't watch him eat. I get these weird twitch. I can't control it. My lazy eye reverberates and my left cheek gets numb. They always eat egg salad. ALWAYS. And when they chew it's like water logged boots stepping on a carpet. I can't take it. I'm freaking out just describing it. I'm gonna take 3 Bayer so I don't have a heart attack.
People who scratch their legs while wearing corduroy pants: When I hear that sound it sends an electroshock up the side of my neck. I lose control of my muscles. I can actually physically feel the sound. It's so dry, like sandpaper massaging my nerves. People need to stop wearing corduroys. I feel like I'm seizing every time someone scratches them. The same thing applies to the sound of a windbreaker rubbing against itself when someone power walks. I become a new animal. I lose all control and time and I've probably had several strokes because of it. I'm doing a stroke test right now to make sure I'm not having one. I want to cut off people's fingers. Please only buy jeans and wear a t-shirt when you run.
People who look at me in the waiting room: I can feel their eyes on me. I purposely keep my face buried in a magazine to avoid any interaction with the psychopaths in the waiting room at my therapist's office. There's this one woman there who looks exactly like the fat guy on "Lost", who must have appointments on the same time as mine with another therapist in the office every week. I know she's watching. I sense the empty gaze on me. It feels like a hippo's breath on my shirt. I know she wants to say something so I fake read with even more intent. All my neurosis form into one massive maelstrom of molecular madness jumping through my pores in a hot sweat as I try to climb inside myself to avoid this thing staring at me. I wanna lose it. I really do. I wanna invent an invisible paint and bathe myself in it before every therapy visit. I want this monstrosity to stare at a magazine suspended in air and have a fucking freak out so badly they she gets locked away in a mental hospital for the rest of her natural life , where she is forced to sit in silence at stacks of magazines all day.
Those are just some of the things that make me nuts. thanks :)
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