break even

I think the Van Gundy brothers are hot. #nba

People call people crazy when they don’t get them. They do it do dismiss the person. Dehumanize the person so they can continue to talk about the person without feeling bad. Would any human being call a real crazy person crazy? I know the answer to that is sadly “Yes”. But there are some compassionate, humane people out there…somewhere. I have hope.

People are threatened by anything different. Everyone (well in America) wants to think everyone is the same. I don’t know where this came from…my theory is guilt but I admit I could be way off. But Americans like to pretend that everyone is the same. And guess what. It’s NOT true. It is sooo obviously not true but no one acknowledges it. It’s wierd. To me.

I never had the “everyone is the same” belief. I was and still am the ugly duckling. Never turned into a swan. (Shoutout to Hans!) I always felt like the outsider. And I still am. People take one look at me and just know that something is “off”. I overhear people making comments all the time. So I’ve always know that if I’m different, well others are too. That seems obvious to me but others don’t think that way. ?????

People dismiss anything different as “crazy”. They don’t know how else to describe it. They don’t dare say “different” or even “odd” because that threatens them for some reason. It’s like they want to believe everyone is on the same playing field. It comforts them. I see this everyday (not just with personally. I observe it in groups or if I just overhear two people talking about someone I don’t know).

I don’t know why I’m posting this. I was or will be on the midst of a nervous breakdown. My dad cannot live in my house. Not because I don’t want him too (but there is that too). My house is a storage house. There is no room. And guess what I am taking two classes. One class is much harder than I thought it would be. I don’t have time or the resources to get a room ready by June something.

AND work has totally flattened me. I haven’t been taking my classes seriously. I have to study/do homework at lunch because that is before all the bad stuff happens. When I got home on Wednesday and Thursday I was so depressed. I barely did a thing. I did make myself and go outside with my cat to do something. I had to do *something*.

I can’t let work get me down. Today was surprisingly a good day. 🙂 I went to work 3 hours after most of my coworkers. I can’t do that during the week because I can’t get any house or school work down if I’m getting home at 6:30PM. That can’t happen. On Tuesday I’m planning to be leave by 4PM at the latest.

One thing I noticed while looking at my vacation photos was I WAS REALLY SMILING! I never smile. Even when I think I’m smiling, I go back and look at the pictures and I looked so depressed. The one that makes me the saddest is my high school graduation. I really thought I was smiling but I look so sad. And there is was nothing sad about me leaving high school. (I didn’t walk across when I graduated from college. Had no desire. I don’t think it was an option in high school plus my parents probably really wanted me to do it.)

Even though New York City was sooo not relaxing, I actually smiled. The digital camera was an enlightened and nightmarish invention for me. About 6 years ago, I would take a pic of myself. I don’t know why I started it. I looked like death. Depressed. Sad. DEAD. I could not smile. It’s late and I don’t want to BS

I smiled…I was depressed…and now I’m floating.

This isn’t supposed to make sense. I’ve been up forever and I’m scared to ask my dad……………fuck,

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