It’s 9:30 AM, got woken up around seven or eight by my rat, Jerry, chewing on the bars. Couldn’t get back to sleep. Haven’t taken my medicine yet. Yesterday I saw a comment on an old video showing anger toward mother’s day that accused me of lying about my past. I wish I had copied it before I deleted it to quote here, but I wasn’t planning on ranting about this. Bad mood. Worse mood. It started out with, “That’s a lie!!!!” It then proceeded to tell me that everything I said in the video, everything I said about what Erin did to me, did not happen, that I was “painting a picture for my fans.”
Everyone knows I don’t lie by choice. I didn’t want to include the comment in a Hall of Shame video because that series is for entertainment, not for comments that get to me. This got to me. Maybe it’s because I still have to fucking deal with it, I still have to struggle with the problems she gave me. They even said that the police had been called because of ME, and not because of her. I wanted to chew this person out, but instead, I simply said, “either learn how to swim, or get out of the gene pool. You’re ruining it for the rest of us.” Here’s what I wanted to say.
How DARE you? For one, how can you possibly say something didn’t happen if you weren’t even there? You have no right or reason to claim something that isn’t true if you don’t know if it was or not. For two, I don’t lie, honesty is my code of honor. Sorry if you’re a two-faced lying bitch, but I’m not. For three, oh? It didn’t happen? So I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for no reason? I have constant night terrors every night for months at a time because I “painted a picture?” I have flashbacks, break downs, attacks, and my adult life has been ruined due to my broken childhood because why? My hatred for the woman who gave birth to me and was supposed to love me gives me permanent resentment toward parents and family in general, I have witnesses, which is the reason why custody was taken away from her in the first place! I was a child of the state! I had to be fucking ADOPTED by my grandmother, who was the one adult who finally saw what she was doing to me! February 14, 2007. That day, my entire life changed. And each year, on February 14, I get shell shock. It’s not as bad as it was a few years ago, but it still happens. But oh, I must be lying about that too, huh? Just because someone on the internet isn’t afraid to hide their demons, doesn’t mean they’re PAINTING A FUCKING PICTURE, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT. Good for you for having a loving, caring mommy! Good for you for being so PERFECT! Good for you for being a fucking IDIOT!! There are things I can’t do now because of what she did! NORMAL things! Like talk on the phone, for one! I’m TERRIFIED of anyone taller than me! I can’t wake people up if I wake up before them! I can’t assist someone unless I ask for permission first! People raising their voice, holding up their hand too quickly, holding up cooking utensils, ALL of that makes me flinch with fear! THAT’S NOT FUCKING NORMAL!! YOU ARE A WORTHLESS LITTLE BRAT THAT ASSUMES THAT, IF SOMEONE HAS HAD A BAD LIFE, THEY’RE LYING BECAUSE THE WORLD CAN’T POSSIBLY BE THAT CRUEL, RIGHT?! Get a fucking reality check! YOU’RE A MORON!! You’re one of the types of people that helps society rot in their own waste, and then throws it around at everyone with a fucking brain so that they have to deal with it too! YOU’RE A SHEEP!! Do you know what happens to sheep? THEY GET SLAUGHTERED!! I sincerely hope that something terrible happens to you. An accident, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, ANYTHING! People like you need to fucking DIE. To quote MJK, “I should play god and shoot you myself.” You’re fucking LUCKY that I’m not the type of person to hunt you down. I’d force you to look at every scar on my body that she directly caused, then I’d give you EVERY detail of the things she did to me, to the point where you lose faith in all of humanity, and finally, I’d do TERRIBLE things to you. But that’s one of the reasons I’m on medication, because I’m not just a danger to myself, I’m a danger to OTHER PEOPLE TOO. And when I take my meds today, this comment isn’t going to bug me so much, I’ll just shake my head at your stupidity, though I will still hope that you get what you deserve because the medication doesn’t change how I feel, it just makes it so I don’t feel things at extremes. But there’s a reason why people I know in person are AFRAID to piss me off. It’s because they know what I’m capable of. I’ve had countless people describe me as “scary,” and that’s not being overly dramatic. Yeah, I can say shit on the internet, but it doesn’t have nearly as much effect as it does in person, when you can see my eyes, hear my voice, read my body language, and feel my rage. I’d be your WORST NIGHTMARE, you stupid, egotistical cunt. You’d regret every single moment of your life where you deliberately tried to mess with someone’s head. Next time, you might not get so lucky. You might mess with someone who is the type to come hunt you down, and they’ll do it. They’ll find you, they’ll torture and kill you, and you know what? I hope they do. I hope that happens to you. If I could, I’d give you all of my memories of her, my trauma, the problems she caused, my nightmares, my fears, EVERYTHING. I’d give them all to you so that you’d have to deal with it, and I’d be free. You’d kill yourself. You would FUCKING KILL YOURSELF. And I would not care. Then again, if I gave you all of the problems she caused, I wouldn’t be a sociopath, so I probably would care! Because empathy is a weakness! But right now, I’m wishing horrible things on you, things I’d NEVER wish upon anyone, things I won’t dare say on the internet because they are that terrible. I may be a fucked up person, I may have more problems than I can handle, I may be a victim to my own psyche, BUT AT LEAST I’M NOT WHATEVER YOU ARE. And if your life is already shitty, and you’re just pushing your misery onto other people, you DESERVE your shitty life. You deserve MORE than a shitty life. You are less than scum. Do us all a favor and die before you have the chance to reproduce.
Why didn’t I say all of that? Because I’m not that far gone. It’s only been like ten hours since I last took my meds, and that’s not nearly enough time to lose myself. If I had been off my meds for a good couple of weeks, I’d have written that, probably something worse, and then I would’ve had an attack. Thankfully, I still have enough common sense to tell myself that that’s what they probably wanted. They wanted me to chew them out. They wanted to upset me. They were probably trying to get a video made about them. Well, they got one thing they wanted; it upset me. While “Annatier” is whispering in my ear to teach this person a lesson, my sanity is yelling in my other ear that it’s not worth it, that this person isn’t worth it. My sanity is also telling me that ranting about it is a waste of my time, but hey, I’m far from perfect. Still, my fantasies are kept from bleeding into my reality, so I can live another day with a flawlessly blank criminal record.
In the most unrealistic of fantasy worlds, I’m friends with Hannibal Lecter, and we’d make sure this person was cooked to perfection. Of course, I would not partake in the consumption because I’m a vegetarian, but at least Hannibal would get to enjoy prime lamb.
My sanity tells me having fantasies like that is childish. Well, that’s what happens when you never got the chance to be a child. At least I can still differentiate between reality and fantasy, though sometimes I wish I couldn’t. Then I could lose myself in those fantasies to escape reality, and I could live in a world that follows my laws, with fictional characters surrounding me that do as I want them to do, behave how I want them to behave.
Alas, this is why I’m not technically considered insane.