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.
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