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unlucky penny
I don't have an off switch. Whether that be for drugs or thoughts. Or thoughts that act like drugs. But I have tons of other switches. People and things pushing my buttons left and right. I feel mis-wired. Broken. Like a lamp that only works intermittently. A fire hazard. A risk. Burn too brightly or not at all. I try to avoid any interactions because someday I will lose my self-control. And I'm not ready for that splay of dominoes to crash through my life.
Every time I see him I get Bob Ross voice tingly feelings in my skull and in my skin and become painfully aware of... things. It's as if every time I get near him, his aura shape-shifts and hits mine and changes it to all sorts of crazy colors like a mood ring in a sauna. And it's always been this way. And I ignore it and he goes away for years, then shows up and then he's here day after day and then he's gone again and then he's back. Like a bad penny. He's not even the usual dark haired starry eyed Jesus look-alike I usually fall for. He's kind of the opposite of my “type”.
He's crazy. I know crazy by now. I am crazy. And all the people in my life are crazy. I can't be friends with someone who isn't crazy. This MF once hung off the top of a parking ramp by one hand while a group of us were hanging out. Out of nowhere, just over the edge. It scared the shit out of me. He's taken a gun off a security guard and ran away. He's burned a bible in the woods...for some reason. He's slammed multiple bottles of cough syrup right in front of me. He will do any drug. Anytime. He's done so many totally pointless fucked up things that I can't even believe it. Whenever I've been around him for more than 20 minutes, he does some stupid little boy stunt to show off and there is no reason why I should find him so totally sexy, but I do. And it's despicable, because he's an awful person, essentially. Maybe he's not. But he's done some really bad things to people. He's never done anything bad to me, but he hasn't been kind, either. I don't know what he thinks of me. If he thinks of me.
Trade in one crazy addict schizo that ignores me for another that's exactly the same, only different. Now, that's some shit logic right there.
I walked all over downtown today running errands for crazy boy #1, staring at the ground, to avoid interacting with crazy boy #2. And I realize that these INFJ peculiarities make me seem like a giant asshole. I don't acknowledge people because it's just too much. Too much. I envy people that aren't empathic. People that don't get it all at once. Everything you're saying, everything you're thinking, everything you are going to say or think crammed into my third eye like a giant broken tinker toy of doom. Fucking sucks to be in the 1% of the personality type in the world. Having to explain my actions because they make no sense to 99% of everyone else. I could use a break from being me. I could really, really, really use some help in that. I feel like if I don't get to have sex soon, I am afraid I'm going to do drugs, drinking, or something worse.
I am so crazymixedup rapid cycling ovulating hormone controlled right now that I could most probably do something stupid. I'm not an asshole. I'm lonely and broken and I've got the blues so bad that I'm turning into a smurf.
I don't know how much longer I am going to be living in this town. But there's this bad idea forming in the back of my head that I am going to make it a goal to ride him into another dimension and back before I leave this science experiment of a city forever.
11:34 PM - Thursday, Dec. 12, 2019
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