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It’s undecided. Whether I will tell my father that my artificial unemployment start date was in April or not tell him. It’s convoluted. Which is funny.

As per the usual, authority figures seem to be angry at me. California is mega corrupt. Gavin definitely fucked something up royally. Trump’s draining the federal budget and sending us into debt again just to pay off everyone pissed at SARS-CoV-2. I guess it’s like, they couldn’t figure out how to invest in science with the anti-science sentiment running rampant throughout the madpeople-citizen’s brains, so they decided to go the expensive route and just pay the dying and dead off. Mass graves lined with dollar bills. Typical American fashion. Not that it doesn’t look stylish.

But enough shitty politics. It’s a hard transition to switch out of it, but I truly am more concerned with my brain disease than national affairs or even state affairs. Would that be surprising? Kaiser is trying desperately to get in touch with me and address my needs, but I’m so horrified of their ineptitude and possibly malice that I don’t know–it’s hard to communicate with them anymore. I’ve decided that my previous psychiatrist was trying to kill me. Which is a horrifying thought. Someone who could basically persuade you into “suicide”, chemically. It’s horrifying. My life is horrifying.

So I don’t know what to say. This is generally how it’s been lately. No good news to speak of, except that no one in the family has died of any diseases lately, annnnnd, yeah! Pet cat’s not too healthy either–she has starting chewing out her own fur and drinking from the toilet. So I’m worried about her. We all are.

Life stinks sometimes. I’m not sure what to say.

By varjakBaby

Clinging, reaching out. Crying wolf when it's reasonable--all the fucking time. No one listens; you may free your ladder from the basement as due to rescue the light on the roof of the night sky. Favorite cheeses, in no particular order: Gouda, muenster, provolone, Havarti, Monterey Jack.

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