Archive for March 30th, 2012

Well, that fucking bullshit probably blew my maybe-sorta-pseudo-productive-day! I need a goddamn smoke.  Okay, I don’t need it.  My tea’s getting cold and they make a great pair. *puts readers on hold for cigarette and tea*


I hardly know anyone where I live.  That’s because I’ve been basically bedridden from exactly one month since I moved in.  I moved here May 01, 2011.  I poureth, swampeth watereth uponeth thyeth headeth noteth! I only sink my head in buckets of it continually, day after day, taking huge gulps of it, like it was water in a desert.

I barely even know this couple but they seemed nice, so hey, friends! Why can’t I ever make friends? And if I do, why does a huge explosion always occur to destroy those friendships? Is my Asperger’s “WORSE” than I originally thought?

We all have skills in life.  Maybe my strongest skill is to make friends, then have those friendships end via complete catastrophes.  Maybe it’s the same with romantic relationships, too.  Quel, quel, quel drag.


They have a totally toxic relationship.  And a baby which makes me want to just…  I can’t even go there.  However, I did at the end of this post, much to my own surprise!

Over the last few weeks or month, there has been nothing short of WWIII between them on the floor.  They were not like this when I met them, maybe two months before? One morning, they were screaming so loud, they actually woke me up.  Yes, they do it in the hallway, not just their apartment.

When it got to the point where bombs started dropping outside my door, I had to scream ENOUGH!!! I do mean literally scream.  I had to raise my voice to be heard over their screaming voices! I told them, I’d had enough, I will not be involved with either of you anymore etc.  I repeated it twice.

Apparently the husband/partner/I couldn’t give a piss or pair of pyjamas full of diarrhea, is no longer living there.  I still don’t care.  Regarding anything to do with either of them.  You both should be locked up in padded cells with 500 mattresses.  The key should be tossed in the trash.  Neither of you are to see “the real world” ever.  Again.

If you live around here and you’re short on smokes, bumming a couple from someone is no big deal.  Check it.  If I wasn’t so exhausted last night, I probably would have exploded.

First: “WHAT DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT I TOLD YOU!!!” Incidentally, I did repeat the information about buggering off from their lives more times.

Second: “YOU ARE ASKING ME FOR WHAT??? She wanted money from me.  Gas money she said, to go visit relatives over the weekend.

I heard them outside my door just now.  Wonderfully, this old, gossipy, hag, living across from me was there, as well.  Great.  I had to shout out my stance again, and asking for the money was completely unacceptable.  Let’s see how the gossip wheel gets going for me now!

That’s fine! Believe what you want if you hear something, everyone! If goss is your masturbatory choice to get off, who am I to “judge.”  You, just keep on rubbing it and stroking it hard, baby! Put your hands wherever it feels goooooood.  Even take it nice and slow if that works, too.  Have your best orgasms on crazy stories about PA!

Although, I suppose you could still call all of those made up stories “fantasies.”  But a note to everyone in the world who would like to fantasize about me while they masturbate.  I don’t mind.  It’s perfectly acceptable.  I would simply prefer you do it regarding who I really am.  Hey, then your fantasies and orgasms might even be better!

Nonetheless, my anxiety levels have shot through the roof so high, I’m worrying about huge chunks of the ceiling falling on my head (not to mention who lives above me.)  I think I can even see what they’re doing if I turn my head the right way.

Revelation! It’s odd how PTSD can work.  It can take you to places so quickly, but it can also lead you nowhere–or maybe it might take you a long time to get out of what’s always felt as “nowhere.”  It may even take years.  Maybe you’ll never know at all.  This half chipped, and extremely, scratched gem hit me as I was writing about my anxiety:

I also can’t bear to look at anything.  Remember, this IS my living space and this all HAPPENED in my living space (or in front of my door, so my actual living space?)  That said, I want to duct tape my eyes shut! Why?



Maybe I’ll get back to everybody later on.  I have to get off my computer and find a place to hide, now.  Where, I have no clue, but at least I’ve already taken a Valium.