I just sent my therapist a pm/dm/message/what the fuck do you want me to call it? Hyphens ommitted due to laziness. Words spelled wrong. All chaos breaks loose.
I told him today is not a good day for me.
Sunday is hard.
Living in a society that doesn’t provide sufficient entertainment for its citizens, nothing of real quality or substance, is difficult. I’m on top of the Earth and there’s nothing here. Trust me.
So enjoy your life full of worries and woe while it lasts. The 1st world is rather boring to be honest.
I don’t understand books or TV or music. Nothing is good.
My dopamine system is shot because of the risperdal and latuda. TWO pills for dopamine deterrence. Wow. That’s fucked. I guess doctors really want to punish me and make me not happy anymore because I was too successful and got away with too much cool shit that regular people can’t handle, like awesome drugs that are great for celebratory occasions if you use them responsibly like you would any alcoholic beverage. But I guess most people are brainless barbarians that can’t handle anything at all, especially my father. He hates drugs.
Oh boy let’s make up some shit and hit hard on the spies.
Fuck those guys in the head with bullets coming out of snipers.
Snipers vs spies.
The video game.
Well. It’s probably real somewhere.
Earth is a strange palace.
What did Patricia mean, “A town where everyone knows everyone?” Was she empathizing with my schizoaffective disorder?
She seemed very smart. But she and Jon seemed like depressed folk. I don’t know what happened. He turned into a closet smoker and I hope they didn’t break up, they were both great people. But whatever. I mean you meet some good people once in a while, they don’t give a shit about you, whatever, business is business.