I finally saw a psychiatrist/therapist today.
Insecure, obsessive, compulsive, depressed, resentful were all words that she threw around, summing me in words.
I felt no connection with those words.
There was no, Aha! Now I get it! moment. There was just my emptiness filling with frustration.
Who is she to define me? I paid $50 for someone to tell me I'm broken.
I'm broken.
I already knew that. She told me that I could be fixed.
Do you have a hot glue gun? Elmo's paste would work just fine, too.
Something to adhere the pieces together, my pieces together. Anything.
Her feigned interest disgusted me. She doesn't care. She cares about my health insurance and how much I pay her. She cares about her $100/hr rate and how happy she is that she didn't quit pre-med after organic chemistry kicked her ass.
Me? Psh. Dust in the wind, money spilling, another sob story particle of dust, leaving nothing behind to prove it ever existed.
She asked about my childhood.
Awful.
She asked about my teen years.
Horrible.
She asked how I've grown.
I told her to look at me. No, really look at me.
That should answer your question.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Children Revolt Me
I hate children.
My 3 best friends have named me godmother to their babies.
I hate them. They disgust me. Their inability to take care of themselves and their sticky paws make me gag.
Their smell, mannerisms, inability to string together words, and their existence in malls, restaurants, airplanes and movie theaters all further my frustration.
Even children, grown up versions of babies. They can speak sentences, but most of the time they are incomprehensible. They jump from topic to topic and they have no appreciate for the unknown.
They constantly ask "why?"
Why can't they be satisfied with ignorance?
Don't they know the bliss of not understanding? Can't they see that they're lucky to not comprehend how bad life is?
The worst part? I am jealous of them. I want so badly to feel that. I don't want to know. I don't want to understand. I cannot fathom wanting to know more about this world we live in. Why not accept it and move on?
I want the freedom of ignorance and the freedom to forgot.
My 3 best friends have named me godmother to their babies.
I hate them. They disgust me. Their inability to take care of themselves and their sticky paws make me gag.
Their smell, mannerisms, inability to string together words, and their existence in malls, restaurants, airplanes and movie theaters all further my frustration.
Even children, grown up versions of babies. They can speak sentences, but most of the time they are incomprehensible. They jump from topic to topic and they have no appreciate for the unknown.
They constantly ask "why?"
Why can't they be satisfied with ignorance?
Don't they know the bliss of not understanding? Can't they see that they're lucky to not comprehend how bad life is?
The worst part? I am jealous of them. I want so badly to feel that. I don't want to know. I don't want to understand. I cannot fathom wanting to know more about this world we live in. Why not accept it and move on?
I want the freedom of ignorance and the freedom to forgot.
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