Just another day torturing my colleague

I am feeling dark today, so I have set all my gadgets to a dark theme so it matches my heart and create the best possible mood for my ensuing thoughts.

My very incompetent micromanaging racist colleague is at it again. What shall we do to her today?

I know a chemist that owes me a favour. Time to collect some helium gas.

As soon as she gets home, she will find me waiting for her in her bedroom. I will be behind the door. As soon as she opens the door to the bedroom, I will shut it behind her and knock her out.

While she is unconscious, I will carry her to her bed and have her lie on her tummy.

I will:

1. Pull down her pants to expose her flat buttocks.
2. Pull out my phone from my pocket and play the Vagina Song by Pig Vomit.
3. Get the gas cylinder, connect it to my needle and inject the needle into her right buttock.
4. Pump of helium gas into her body through the right buttock till she floats to the ceiling.
5. Watch her expand and float to the ceiling.
6. Stop pumping the gas, pull out the needle and shut the hole from which the needle came out using a cork.
7. Ask the 3 footballers hiding under the bed to come out and kick her around as they do with a football in the field.
8. Watch her bounce off the walls until she deflates and can’t bounce off the walls anymore.
9. I confine her to the bed with handcuffs that I stole from my neighbour who is a policeman.
10. I open the bathroom door to let out her boyfriend who I had turned into an obedient bee earlier in the day.
11. The bee-boyfriend stings her nose and dies.
12. I take the dead bee-boyfriend, I go home and create it.
13. She regains consciousness.
14. I watch her confusion on my laptop thanks to the secret cameras that I installed.
15. She quits her job in disappears to Mars because of the huge nose (huge noses are illegal on earth, people use them to breathe in more oxygen than they need and then sell it to hospitals at exorbitant prices). I made sure the bee boyfriend’s sting effect would be permanent.
16. I enjoy a healthy working environment forever.

Saved by a drugie

I am using drugie as a term to mean somebody that uses hard narcotics but is not an addict. Is there an official term for that? Comment if there is one.

High enough (on Absolut Vodka) that I am looking at my keyboard to make sure that I am typing the correct thing. I am a lot slower at typing than usual. I have also been confused by the fact that the font I am using has small caps “L” and caps “i” looking the same. I also just checked to make sure that I did not throw the cigarette filter/butt on my carpet. Yes, I am smoking in the house and spraying lavender air freshener afterwards because I cannot stand the smell of cigarettes when I am hangover (a condition I anticipate to have tomorrow). I am just glad that I can actually type. If this article is shit, I will delete it as soon as I wake up hoping that I will actually remember that I posted something. Hopefully, it wont become one of those posts where I delete everything midway and decide not to post (I do this a lot). I was once told that I exist in the wrong continent because of the things I write about and I think that statement affected me more than I would like to admit. Are there specific things I should aviod writing about because I am African? Currently listening to Gary Barlow’s Back For Good. This will be relevant at some point, I promise. Give me a moment to convert the song to mp3 so I can listen to it on loop using VLC player.

I got to go pee then will be back.

I am now back. Don’t you love the JLS harmonies?

My neighbour gave me something called crystals a few days ago. It was a very little portion mixed in my Tanquery gin. She gave me a quarter the crystals of what she had (she crashed them into powder first). She was very happy after taking it (about 45 minutes after taking it) and our two people party ended because she got horny and went to fuck my other neighbor, which I encouraged her to do because she asked to kiss me more that once. I said no even though I wanted to kiss her back. Not sure why I did that. She is attractive and we happen to like a lot of the same things. Food for thought, I guess.

I was talking to a religious practitioner yesterday. He told me about how most humans are okay with giving themselves to something that takes control of them. This is what I have been doing all week; drinking vodka and being in another world. Since he is a Christian pastor (I think. He is very rational compared to other religious people that I have interacted with), he specifically talked about church. He said to me that people in church give themselves to the pastor and to the worship team. I give myself to alcohol. My neighbor gives herself to crystals (I still do not know the chemical composition but I will let you know as soon as I figure that out). Do we all, every once in a while just want to give control of our lives to something other than ourselves be it religion, drugs, work etc (pick your poison)?

He (the religious practitioner) mentioned that I always excelled at being free which turned me into the villain of the family (he has known me since I was little. I have also always done what I want when I want and I avoid showing weakness as much as I can). I didn’t realize that this is what the world saw in me because I have not felt free or in control this past week. I called all my friends (5 of them) before deciding to do something drastic. I thought that if my life ended, I would be free of the suffering. I just have to stop existing and I would be okay. I ended up at my neighbour’s because I needed someone to talk to and all my friends were unavailable. Thought of ending my life but became a pussy when it got to actually doing it. I think I like living, even when I am at low points, I am happy that I still choose life :).

I am smoking again after three months of taking a break. The head rush feels different. I am not sure where my head is at. Work is perfect, I got into my dream school in London and I am getting along with most of my immediate family. So, what the fuck is wrong?

While talking to my neighbor, she hugged me and thanked me for randomly showing up at her house. She thought talking to me made her feel much better. It may sound stupid but if one person felt better because I was just there to listen, then maybe my existence is somewhat of use.

I am not getting as high as I would like to be but I guess it works for my typing. I also realise, this was my last resort because sometimes, I get a few comments that are actually uplifting. (I just looked at my ceiling and was staring right at my chandelier. If it broke, part of it would pass through my right eye and that would be a complication that I choose not to think about right now. I clearly am not courting death).

Just a ramble

I guess I stopped counting the days since you left. It hasn’t helped because I can’t forget the exact date. I know you are coming back, you promised to come back and you had better keep that promise. I want to know that you are okay. I want to stare at your face for no reason. I want to catch you staring at mine for no good reason. I want to have philosophical conversations and arguments with you. I want to sit in the kitchen with you as you cook, I promise not to be a distraction. I want you to run your fingers down my temple to my cheeks in the mornings. I want you to hug me for as long as possible because I had a tough day and then listen to me while I ramble on about the tough day.

It’s been particularly hard these past few weeks. I got a message from my therapist. He was saying hi. I thought I could mention something then but turns out he wanted to sell me insurance. I never kept up the conversation after I mentioned not needing insurance. My mum was strangled a week ago by my cousin who is still at large. Don’t worry, she is alive. I am not sure about her mental state though. Nobody gave me this information until 72 hours after it happened. I am the fragile lastborn who needs protection from bad news. All I wanted to do after getting the information was to call you and talk without pretending to be strong. Cry to you instead of alone. I wrote a letter but ended up crying so much on it that the ink ran too much and the writings are no longer legible. I also would not know where to send it.

I recently bought a human-sized teddy bear so I can have something to cuddle and talk to. I moved to a smaller place so the house feels a lot less empty. I’ll try not to lose my mind.

Another weird day

The hormonal shit happening in my body is on a whole new level. I snoozed my alarm clock for a bloody three hours. Thank goodness I did not have any work backlog. I do have a presentation tomorrow. The point of waking up early was to go through my documentation. I have to make sure there are no mistakes, add any new information and master that shit because I cannot look like I do not know what I am talking about during the presentation. I did engage in one of my guilty pleasures before sleeping the previous night hence my shameless snoozing. Hell, I do not know how my guilty pleasure and my snoozing are related but the two seem to be correlated.

I do actually get into work in time. I don’t exactly log in but I do reply to emails from my phone. I am working from home by the way. I do not log into Microsoft teams because being online will predispose me to tasks that I am not particularly interested in and can also be done by someone else. I am not in the mood for mundane tasks. My tits hurt too much for this.

As soon as I gather all the energy I need to work and feel proud of myself, my twatty neighbours start playing loud music from a genre I did not even know existed. I want to murder then, strangle them as I watch the life fade out of their eyes. Who the fuck plays loud music on Tuesday morning. I need to find a neighbourhood for introvert nerds. So I put on my headphones. I start playing “Portals” from “Avengers Endgame”, “All the strange strange creatures” and “This Is Gallifrey: Our Childhood, Our home” from “Doctor Who”, the David Tennant period. I blast this shit with my headphones. The decibels are enough to not harm my eardrums. Everything disappears and it is me and my work and I do not want to kill the bitches anymore.

It gets to 3 pm and for some reason, I am sad. I don’t know why I am sad. I try playing the sudoku puzzles that I had printed but it does not help. I try watching “Dr Stone” and end up getting angry at “Tsukasa”.

Its 5 pm and I do not know what to do with myself. It’s after work so I go offline. How is Marta doing?. She had a fever and has been indisposed all day. I like her because she has been nice to me our relationship has developed from colleague to friend. I am speaking for myself. I will check on her tomorrow. At the supermarket, I get myself some snacks, I am tempted to get cigarettes but I decide not to. On my way back to my place, the little devil on my shoulder urges me to pass by the liquor store and get some gin.

My feelings are still all over the place. But here I am ranting on a blog post because I don’t feel like bothering my dear friends with this information. I will instead bother you, my dear reader. I am tipsy enough to feel every single emotion. There has been a myriad of those emotions. Hope I will kill it in my presentation tomorrow which is on my least favourite topic.

Demo-gorgon

My anxiety has shown its head again. My permanent state of worry and nervousness with the possibility of a panic attack is not good for me right now. I need my sanity. Anxiety has metamorphosed into my own pet demo-gorgon. My demons are not my caterpillars anymore but my butterflies. The caresses of my demons play over my face, moments when I feel that it is just me and my demons especially after I am heartbroken by anything or anyone (for instance, when Ned Stark died in Game of Thrones – Oh yes…I was that intensely affected, to the point where I do not want anything at all to do with Game of Thrones. I get intensely emotionally attached to fictional characters). My demons have become craftsmen with unequaled skill when it comes to handling me.

My heart is thumping wildly. My temperature rises sharply. I was crying hysterically last night and I really do not know why I was just feeling very sad. I was in sad shape, spiritually, emotionally and mentally. I may have slipped. I allowed myself to undergo an emotional sensation, the kind that you get pleasure from and now I am suffering the consequences and I am currently writing this at a café that has really fast Internet and also googling ‘how I can be emotionless’ at the exact same time.
My emotions would kill me faster than any physical injury that does not involve veins or arteries would. I have toyed with the idea of slitting my wrists as if it were a game and then I remember that I can go talk to a therapist. I have had a couple of therapists who I owe much of my sanity.
I imagine I am one of those people who unfortunately get to feel everything quite intensely.(If feeling things intensely is actually a thing. Most people just think I pretend, especially my mother.)
I do not understand gray areas, it’s either black or white, heaven or hell, Sith or Jedi, Batman or Joker, Iron-man or Mandarin, Time Lords or Daleks, good or evil. I am ‘extreme’ personified. I overdo everything, drugs included. When it comes to alcohol, I drink as much as I can because all I want is to have a few hours of nonexistent feelings(A part of my life that I lately feel a need to evaluate). The many discordant voices in my head go quiet and I get to zombie-fy just for a few hours. I get to look at something and not feel anything towards it. It is like taking a break from myself. The drinking does come with a lot of obvious disadvantages though. I get very bad hangovers and end up wasting a whole day recovering.
I am happy and sad to say that I am no longer a functioning alcoholic. I feel as though both sobriety and alcoholism will kill me at the exact same rate. If it is not my liver, it is my brain. The happy part is mostly because I am not a social misfit anymore, but, to what end? The voices in my head will not shut the fuck up. I hear them all the time. The amount of concentration I have to channel to keep my head straight on just one thing is almost unimaginable. I find myself thinking about suicide sometimes. I don’t want to be around people. I am constantly seduced by the thought of anonymity which often shows up in my head in the form of a swan, I do not want anyone to know of my existence because that will open doors to heartbreak and a lot of annoyance. I can’t imagine getting out of the house and suffering a panic attack in an environment I cannot control. I can’t date because I have no idea what the voices in my head are usually planning for me. When I am in love, I choose to ignore the feeling and cut the one I am in love with out of my life. I feel like it is the only way that I can protect them and myself. Does this make any sense to you or do I just sound bonkers?

My demo-gorgon, if he were human, listens carefully to me more than he talks, wears nice flattering clothing that are in harmony with my taste, is clean shaven and smells like heaven, he exudes confidence, stands up straight, is quite stout and makes me comfortable with his touch. He is charming and plays me all the music that I like, he maintains eye contact while talking to me and when I get attacked, he carries me to a safe place and lets me know that he will always and forever be there for me whenever I need him. He resurrects all possible forms of exteroception in me, the tiniest stimulus to remind me of the beauty of this world. At this point, the rest of the world does not matter, it has always been me and my demo-gorgon. Just us. We will ride to hell or heaven together.

No feels

So, this is where I actively run to when I am slowly dying inside. An action I am disposed to take in order to affectuate change in my troubled psychological state. I am not sufficiently qualified at processing what I am feeling. The tear resting on my eyelid right now feels a bit conflicted on whether to drop or travel back into my glands. Oh…it has dropped. When this happens, I have lost all ability to fix my excruciating state in any logically existing manner.

In my mind, I perceive a violent fight between my heart and my brain. It is a fight that possesses merit and finds in me a devoted admirer. The heart is a formidable opponent, extremely impressive in strength and excellence and inspires fear. It is this fear that makes the brain into an entity that is unmoved by appeals of sympathy or forgiveness. The brain will always win after rendering a surgical strike intended to cripple the heart. Each time this happens, I lose a part of myself, and I become the robot that I hope to create one day. I lose all little bits that I find most beautiful in other humans.

One morning I will be taking a walk on the beach and I will fail to notice the beautiful sunrise, or the breeze across my face, or the sound the ocean makes and I will go back to my beach house or hotel to continue with my robotic life that is devoid of human emotion. This beautiful creature in form of a man or a woman will walk up to me, tell me that I have a nice smile and whisper in my ear that I am beautiful and I hope that at that very moment, in its weakened state, my heart will challenge for one more fight and this time, it will win so that when the day comes when my life flashes before my eyes, I will smile knowing that even though it was for a short while, I felt again.

Time to chat with my demons

So, I feel like drowning myself in water. Not deep water, shallow water. I love being underwater. Shit looks so cool under here.” I wanna drown just a little. I do not want to die. I like to think that the universe still needs me alive. I just want to feel something to remind my self of my humanity. Just getting naked and pretending to drown me in water. I always feel some kind of freedom in nudity. Skinny dip underwater a little hoping that my neighbors are not at home.

I need a different environment from the real world. My reality is quickly metamorphosing into a figment of my imagination. Perhaps I’ll see things clearly if I get to that point of near death and have my life flash right before my eyes. I wonder what it is that I will see when this happens. This crappy feeling I have is driving me crazier than I am used to. I feel nothing at all and this worries me as I could be turning into a psychopath. I am finding it really hard to handle this madness. Cutting myself has not been working so far. I need something bordering on the extreme. I am kinda always crazy, it just never gets to this point. I might need a psychiatrist. This is a point where I drink the whole day and watch the extremely violent action and horror movies… I myself even know that I need help as soon as possible. Action movies are the most awesome part. The movies are even cooler to watch when I am high. I question whether it is the alcohol that is making me inebriated. It is definitely the alcohol though because I am fucking indifferent to everything else.

My life is just sad. “Do you want a drink? You can join me. I could really use a buddy right now even though I feel like I do not need one. I am starting to be a hazard to myself” Let’s go crazy together. The reason for going crazy…… I ain’t really sure. “Not sure?” “Yes yes yes.” I lack words to explain. I have no clue how I got to this point. I have this feeling. Crappy it is. I kinda like it. It’s a new one, I have never felt this one. I want it to go. I miss the normal me.

I actually regret visiting that last therapist I had. I now remember. Everything began going downhill after I visited her. I did exactly what she told me and one month later, this is me, about to drown myself. I thought to talk to a stranger who knew nothing about me would help but it just made things worse.

I should in back to handling my shit and fixing things. It works for me. It mostly involves self-destruction which is just as bad as that therapist. I wish I had everything in my life figured out. My demons just love me too much. They do not want to go away. Every once in a while I make love to my demons which are exactly what I should do.

Pretending to be okay is having a debilitating effect on me. Fuck this…… I will just walk to a random citizen and go like, “The smile on my face doesn’t mean am happy, it just means I’m way too drunk to change my expression and I would like you to slap me back to reality.”