Now that she’s met someone, she’s asking Someone if he knows anyone for me. I told her no thanks. The thought of having to meet said Somebody if she had been successful is terrifying. I’m sure I would fuck everything up. I can’t pass for normal no matter how hard I try and my looks don’t help either. Imagine having to invite someone into my dilapidated apartment if we became that close, or putting up a conversation, or admitting I am on disability. What if he thought I was an idiot, or I thought he was an idiot? I can’t even imagine. While I don’t want to die alone or as a virgin, no. Just no.
Still banned on Facebook. No one noticed. My friend messaged me after 7 days of quiet. I’ve been feeling gloomy, but didn’t realize how much until she messaged and I started shedding tears. I kept her on as long as I could.
I’m a bit concerned about life choices she seems to be making, but I should just let it happen. This is going to sound off, but she’s got a new someone to bother with and doesn’t need me. She’s almost a narcissist. I feel bad for this new friend. It’s starting similar to how she was with me, practically saving my life. I’m worried for her too, but…
It’s the 8th anniversary of my mother’s death, it’s Friday the 13th, and I’m in Facebook Jail for calling someone a stupid cunt. At the tender age of 33, I became an orphan. I knew very little about adulting then, but look how mature I am now.
I’d done a few ‘social experiments’ on Facebook before to see what Herr Zuck would tolerate, since a bunch of the crazies got thrown off Facebook (I’d share Alex Jones and Paul Joseph Watson crap just to see if I’d get censored ). Zuck, however, knows my actual political affiliation better than I do.
I wasn’t even trying to get in trouble, but the cunt who I called a cunt snitched on me. My mother, who was the nicest person, wouldn’t have approved. I wish I could talk to my mom. I’d tell her about being forsaken by various people since her death, Trump, and I’d apologize for a lot.
My friend, who doesn’t want anything much to do with me, has told me more than once that I could’ve saved my mom. If I’d taken her temperature or insisted even harder that she go to the doctor. Friends, am I right?
For all intents and purposes, I’m becoming a hermit cat lady. I’m trying to get out every day or so, go to the Y or a store. It keeps me from depression. I look for validation now online or from the people paid to endure me. My friend is tired of me, and in some ways, it’s a relief. I don’t have to hear about being brain damaged, or ‘retarded,’ or whatever else she comes up with. I don’t have to be derided for my actions. Besides, there’s still everyday people who will let me know they think I’m slow.
I was at Dollar General the other day. No one was at the counter, so I flipped open a National Enquirer and waited for someone to notice me. A guy came up behind me and he got the person to ring us up. I said something like “OK” to answer the cashier about something, and I hear him echo/mock me. As I’m leaving, I hear him still amused by me, saying, “You’ll never find a more patient customer.” Hardee har. Drop dead.
This scared the shit out of me back in July. Enjoy!
My nerves were frazzled to say the least. I called again at 3 that day, reiterated that it was dripping out of the damn light bulb, and that I was afraid of it being a fire hazard. By then, I cut the power to everything. This seemed to gain results. A new maintenance guy came over, as they must have fired the brigade again as they do once or twice a year. He took a look and said, “It’s coming from upstairs.” Genius, pure genius.
So Maintenance Guy, let’s call him Smelly, went upstairs and banged on the door. Perhaps the tenant was afraid to let him in, since she hadn’t ordered any maintenance. Maybe she’d just finished a J, or had someone unauthorized staying there. I don’t know, but for whatever reason, she didn’t come to the door. And this is how I found out we have a new manager, because she came armed with, I guess ,the new head maintenance guy and Smelly. They go into my bedroom closet and look. “Oh they’re going to let us in one way or another,” she said. Good heavens. How to Win Your Neighbors’ Undying Regard by Lisa B.
So once they performed the Great Raid of 2019, they said some pipes were leaning against the wall or something, and it wasn’t their water heater. I panicked the whole time they were around.
About to have a psychotic break. I had to call maintenance just now because there is a steady stream of water coming down from the light bulb in my bed room closet. This will be the second time in a month I’ve had to call them for a water related issue,the first was air conditioner related. I called about 15 minutes ago. My anxiety is rising to a crescendo. Dammit, why won’t they come? This is kind of an emergency. I’m scared. What if it’s my neighbor’s water heater about to blow? What if my neighbors get upset I didn’t warn them first? My apartment looks OK right now by my standards, but what if they throw me out? There’s a lot of stains on my carpet, walls, everything. Maybe maintenance is on lunch break and fuck everyone. I suppose I should wait until 4 to call back unless my water bucket starts overflowing. My neighbors are talking loudly. Maybe they found the leak. Maybe they’re mad at me. It’s still steady flowing. I think it’s their water heater. Would bath water leak that long?
I guess I’ll keep writing until someone comes or I have a heart attack and die.
Someone’s coming I think. Maybe not.
I’d text my friend, but I’m trying to only have conversations with her if she texts first. Bad things have been happening between us. Both my therapist and shrink know about it, my therapist knows all about it. My friend, as you may know if you read many a post before I private it, has a problem with verbal abuse. Sometimes after particularly bad blow ups, I overtake my medication a bit. Not trying to die, but trying to sleep a long time. My friend found me like this, allegedly took pics of me passed out, allegedly called the cops (I can find no record of it), and allegedly stayed with me for hours. I think she’s lying about some of it. She wants nothing to do with me except when she has to over the cats. She called my shrink, but so did I. The story gets worse from there, but I feel I best not say more. But be assured, people know what’s going on.
I heard my neighbor on the phone, but I was too scared to listen. I will plug my ears for fear of hearing them say something bad about me. I have an irrational fear of people talking about me or telling on me or anything. I hope to god they know what is going on and don’t get caught smoking pot. I’m listening to Cardi B. to try to drown shit out. It’s still leaking. It’s been an hour. I’ll keep talking.
The PH was too high in the Family Pool at the Y. The lifeguard warned me. Maybe they had some kid do something unfortunate in there. So I skipped that and I only had a few minutes anyway, because I thought it was an hour earlier when I left the house. I sat in the hot tub for a hot minute, then took a shower. When I got out, my bus sailed away before I could cross four lanes of traffic. I had to call an Uber. This is the second Tesla I’ve rode in. I much prefer riding in a Hooptie, because I feel like an Untouchable chilling with a Brahman. Nice guy, wanted to hear about all the amenities at the Y as he spends most of his free time swimming and working out. Of course he does. When he isn’t flexing his pretentious car.
Now an hour and a half has gone by. Getting annoyed. Maybe I should see if the bucket is full. No, half full. The water is still flowing pretty well and a nice stain is beginning near the light bulb. At least that’s proof it’s not my fault maybe. Listening to Lana del Rey.
I’ve had the first part of a psychiatric evaluation, IQ included. I got tired of people thinking, or in case of my friend – saying, that I’m mentally challenged. I want to know if it’s true. Pretty sure I have brain damage, but full blown idiot, I think not.
My friend doesn’t understand why I would want this done. Am I trying to compare to her high intelligence, or do I want to have it ‘both ways?’ I just want to prove that I’m not as stupid as she thinks I am and to figure out why I am such a weirdo. I’ll be happy to come in at average.
The psychologist wears a Lurch suit and Converse shoes. I liked him right away. Most PHD’s are stuck up I think. This guy treated me like a normal person, spoke to me like a normal person, and I had a good rapport with him. This comes in handy if he’s giving you an IQ test. I asked him towards the end of the session what he thought so far. So far, I’m AT LEAST average. I got a couple of easy questions wrong in patterns, but then I seemed to right myself and get the harder questions right.
It’s been over two hours now. I think I’ve written well over what I should and I could keep going. Will update if I don’t float away.
Sassy the cat and I were walking back from feeding strays at the doctor’s office. What the hell is that, I think as I walk up to a felled street light. It is an old light on a wooden pole. The pole is snapped in half. Not a clean break, splintered everywhere, and the metal bent. Miraculously, the light stays lit even laying in the grass, working like a spotlight on the name of the apartment complex and the 5 mph speed limit. Someone was drunk, or experiencing reefer madness, or just being the average douche flooring it in between speed bumps. The OCD in me keeps whispering, “Somehow this is your fault. You did this. You just don’t know you did.”
someone must have
OK, I’m going to try to start writing more again. I was lonely in 2010 when I started writing in this blog, and I’m lonely again, so…
Here I am 9 1/2 years later. I’m honestly amazed how far I’ve come from someone totally dependent on her mother to being something akin to independent. My life before my mother’s death is such a distant memory most of the time that it seems like someone else’s memories. Except when I feel intense pangs of guilt. Then I know I am that same person who cursed out her mom.
Sometimes, when I feel insecure, it comes back in my dreams. My mom has just died of sepsis. My cousins reject me. I have no place to go. And then I wake up, amazed that it was 8 years ago this September. That I’m OK and safe in my own apartment. It’s the past.
Fighting triggered the dream.