I start to wonder about my DNA, like some college friends' obsession with alcoholic parents and their thinking they will fall to addiction through bad genes only. Two "wacky" grandmas in their own ways, each seeming relatively sane in most of the contexts in which I ever knew them and yet ever so faintly off. Seems like whining. Like a poor excuse for not sucking it up. Doesn't feel like it though. Even so, the possibilities recline there in the back of my scrambled feeling brain, like some horrible meme or jingle that won't leave, and just huddles in a corner, rocking and smiling idiotically. Just there.
Evil humors. I can very much see in these moments how religions take hold. And yet I still do not understand. It does not make anything feel better. Never has. Although, you could argue that since it is not there it doesn't have the chance to. Some supernatural power! Not even enough to make an eleven year old believe in it. Even when I was a kid, and my best friend's family went down in their small plane, and I ventured a prayer (what else was there to do?), I knew it was a waste of time. A waste AND it didn't make me feel better. AND I felt like a grade A hypocrite (ok, so maybe only a grade B; after all, I was only a sixth grader). So much for comfort and hope. I suppose there's equal mental illness among the religious as irreligious. Maybe more in the former, I suspect, but likely unrecognized (you know…hand of god and all). Whatev', to use a "word" I absolutely hate, and yet find vaguely amusing due to its clear declaration of "I don't give a fuck" in a single faux word. Just enough of the word to demonstrate you just don't care, with a chaser of disdain. Ahhhh…not at all refreshing. Like this distressing lack of sleep with its distressing, isolating, lonely thoughts. I could really chew some scenery right about now if my stomach didn't feel like it was about to eat itself instead (and that is not a happy feeling either).
Even though it seems even more important to take a sick day in this instance, I'm pretty sure it's not contagious. At least not in this form. It might cause other variants, of course, to have to witness the effects, experience the downer, or mutate, possibly eliciting a "Why can't you be more upbeat/positive?" Or some other more passive aggressive response. "Because, I have brainless Pollyannas all around me to show me the error of that way of being!" These are the ones who never seem to do the paperwork or documentation. Maybe that's it, you chirpy no-paperwork mother-fuckers! If you don't understand Dilbert and laugh, then not only am I truly sorry for you for that loss of comedy options, but you have obviously lead a charmed and/or non-corporate life, or you are twenty and this is our first real job. I hate you. Fortunately, those two feelings cancel each other out. I think.
It sounds like it is raining out. Just in time for a 2:00am closer.
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