Spread the Word of Awesome!

Archive for the ‘People = SHIT’ Category

If I Could, I Would

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.

WE ARE THE END

I was contemplating human existence a few days ago, and realized something: we’re it. We are the end of the evolutionary line. We are the last species on this planet, and we’ll never evolve into anything more, even if the Earth manages to live for another billion years or so. Nope. We are literally the end.

Think about it. Really think. Humans are the only creatures on Earth that defy nature, that go against instinct, and serve no purpose to other creatures or the planet itself, except to destroy it. We are also the only species on this planet that exude evil. One of my favorite quotes from the Hannibal TV series is, “Human emotions are a gift from our animal ancestors. Cruelty is a gift humanity has given itself.” As humans, we are born evil. Some of us will learn to suppress most of that evil, but it will always be there. We have evolved into the end of the world. How did it happen? How did we gain the ability to be cruel to everyone and everything?

We’ve already proven that nothing will come after us unless we literally create it. You see it every new generation, you see it with every child that is born. There are too many people on this planet, yet we keep reproducing. Why? What’s the point? We don’t need more of us! The whole reason animals reproduce is to continue the species. It’s a survival thing. Well, it doesn’t look like we’re going to go extinct any time soon, not before the planet becomes uninhabitable.

And look at the people who are reproducing; parents that think they’re ready, but aren’t, teenagers and young adults that get pregnant by accident, women who get pregnant by rape, drug addicts that can’t stop fucking each other, and people who refuse to get abortions because of their religion or whatever. Then look at their kids. Oh… their kids… seriously, just look at the children in this generation. Now look at them from the previous generation, and the one before that, and the one before that. Notice how each new generation is getting…………… worse? Uh, yeah… and no one has thought to stop it why?

“Children are our future.” Children grow up and have children of their own… humans are the end… what does this mean? It means that the only reason nature has allowed us to exist is to destroy this planet. Is this all part of god’s plan? I already thought, “if god exists, he’s one messed up mother fucker.” Heh, another quote from Hannibal: “Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?” If god exists, his whole plan was to build up this project called “Earth,” and then create something that would kill it all. Why? Just for the lulz! God is just one big troll!

I know I won’t get the chance to see the end of humanity, but the fact that we’re already looking for another planet to move to is concerning. I hope we never make it to another planet. Do you know what will happen? We’ll end up destroying that one too… and the next one… and the next one… if humans continue to exist, our race will be the destroyer of worlds. We are a threat to the universe. Why is it that the geniuses of our time are trying to find ways to prolong our existence instead of trying to stop it? We have no problem stopping other species from existing. But even if we do move on to more planets, we’re not going to evolve any further. We are stuck in evolutionary limbo, and the only direction we can go is backward. WE ARE THE END.

There are people who will agree with me, but there are also those who think I’m very wrong. Only time will tell, won’t it? If I’m wrong, I won’t be around to see it, but if I’m right, I won’t be around to tell future humans, “I told you so.” And if there are people reading this thinking I’m just being a Negative Nancy, I just have one thing to say to you…

Don’t blame the player, blame the game, son. Open your eyes.

I Just Need to Vent Again

This is less about people reading it, and more me just trying to empty the bottle a bit. These are times when I wish that I lived in the Harry Potter universe. I would be a witch that attends Hogwarts, and I’d have access to the Room of Requirement. I’d make it a room filled with breakable objects just so I could get out my frustrations physically. I’ve never been able to do that, and I really need to have a huge violent fit right now in order to completely empty the bottle… venting just doesn’t cut it most of the time.

Of course, we live in a world where we can’t just be violent without consequence, which is upsetting. Humans are naturally violent creatures, and we need to… excuse this reference… purge in order to get rid of it. I finally saw the movie The Purge, and it did not live up to my expectations. But what if, man? What if we had an annual purge? Let’s make a few changes though. Instead of annually, this purge could happen whenever the fuck people want to physically let out their rage. How would this work?

Well, the way I’m seeing it, this purge wouldn’t be “all crime is legal.” In fact, laws would and should stay the same. I’m thinking more like… having a facility with different types of rooms for different things. You’d need to pay to enter the facility, maybe like ten dollars, I think that’s fair. There’d be rooms where you could just break stuff, there’d be rooms that only one person can enter at a time to destroy stuff with different kinds of weapons, and there’d be rooms where people could enter to consent to actually fighting each other. A controlled environment where the only injuries are your fault because you chose to engage.

If we had that kind of outlet, crime could possibly lessen, but I’m not saying it would stop all together. This “purging” would be for, you know, regular people who get stressed and want to JUST FUCKING BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SOMETHING OR SOMEONE. This would lessen anyone taking their frustration out on others, both verbally and physically. But, just like I say when I wish I ruled the world, unrealistic dreams are unrealistic.

So, what’s grinding Reitanna’s gears today? Fucking… fuckity… FUCK… FUCKING TEENAGERS, man! Okay, I’ll admit, when I was a stupid teenager, I was guilty at doing this too, but now I know how stupid and irritating it is! When some fucking kid sicks their friends on you. Especially for no reason! Like, say someone deliberately insults me. Well, I’m a fucking Scorpio, I don’t take that shit sitting down! I’m a lover and a fighter, and I believe people should not just get away with doing something wrong, they need to experience the consequence. So, naturally, I defend myself. Depending on the insult, I could respond with annoyance, frustration, anger, or rage.

Say this person doesn’t like one of my “Muffins” stories. Okay, cool, no problem, everyone has their own opinions. However, because they dislike it, they have the audacity to say it’s BAD WRITING. Excuse me, but I am far from a bad writer, and that’s not my opinion. I have an extremely high reading and writing level, to the point where I’ve out-shown everyone in all of my classes involving reading and writing since second grade. When I was in second grade, my teacher actually forbade me from reading books that were a second grade level because I read them too easily. She forced me to pick from the fourth grade books, which were still not much of a challenge, though much more entertaining than the second grade books.

By eight grade, I was at an eleventh grade reading/writing level. Then, by Sophomore year, I was at a college reading/writing level. My Sophomore English teacher sat me down one day to talk about my essays. She said, “I noticed something about your essay writing. When you try to follow the thesis/commentary/commentary/conclusion format, you don’t seem to write at your full potential. The best essays I’ve seen from you are ones where you didn’t follow the standard format. From now on, I want you to just write. Don’t bother with the format, just go.” That was some of the best advice I had ever received from a teacher.

Junior year came around, and at the end of the year was the Junior Paper. This was a huge essay that counted for most of your grade. Well, me, being in Choir, was going to be in Washington DC while everyone else was working on all three of their drafts and the final essay. My grandmother bought me a second-hand laptop so I could attempt to work on it, but we hardly spent any time in our hotel rooms. We mostly attended workshops, practiced, went sight seeing, following all of the events that our teacher had planned for us. Then, of course, there was the competition itself, which had multiple stages. We killed it, by the way.

So, what did this mean for me? I got back home at about midnight on a Sunday. I usually went to bed around nine (I’ve set my own curfew since I was ten). Guess what? THE ENTIRE JUNIOR PAPER WAS DUE THE VERY NEXT DAY. I had to write an eight page essay in one night, very exhausted, and very jet lagged. But oh man, did I write that sucker. I stayed up until three in the morning writing the essay from scratch, no drafts, no notes, NOTHING. The required length was eight pages, and I honestly don’t remember if I exceeded it or not. Monday came, and I had been the only one in the class who had flushed out their entire essay in one night with no preparation, and no guidance from the teacher.

B+ mother fuckers. B FUCKING PLUS. If I had had the time that everyone else got, that would’ve been an A+, but a B+ for something like that was good enough for me. I was shocked, but astounded, and it was then that I truly realized what having a high reading/writing level meant. I had never really appreciated it much until that day. Naturally, for my Senior Project the next year, I wrote two stories; “Quiet Heartbeat” and “Untitled.” Of course, you never stop learning, so I’ve come a long way since then, but the judges still gave me near-perfect scores. I say “near-perfect” because one bitch made a note about how I wasn’t dressed professionally. I’m sorry, but I was wearing a black and white sawtooth blazer with a matching skirt that fell just above my knees. Even my grandmother said I looked professional, and the other judges didn’t seem to have a problem with it!

Anyway, I’m twenty-five now. I may still be learning and improving my skills, but that does not make me a bad writer in any sense. However, apparently if someone doesn’t like something, it means it’s bad. Oh wah, cry my a river, build me a boat, and take me on a vacation to Whinersville. Let me give two examples from real people that shows what a rational person does when they dislike something.

I hate Star Wars. With a passion. Always have, always will, no matter how many times I’ve tried to get into it. I can’t. I can’t stand it so much, I hate when people talk about it. HOWEVER… does this mean the movies are bad? Some fans would have their comments about how certain films were disappointing, but in general, are the films bad because I dislike them? No, I don’t think they’re bad at all, quite the contrary. I think they’re stupid, but that’s an opinion. The fact is is that the Star Wars franchise is incredibly successful, and for good reason. I’m certain that the movies have broken multiple world records. They are great films, I can’t deny that, I just don’t like them. I can hate them all I want, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are excellent.

My boyfriend, Michael, loves Star Wars, but HAAAAAAATES Harry Potter, which I love. All the same, just like me, he cannot actually knock the films, because they are not bad films. He cannot knock the books, because they are extremely well written. Same with music. He hates Lady Gaga’s music, but he can’t deny that she’s talented and that her music is good. He just doesn’t like it, and that’s his opinion. He is fair to the creations, even though he wants nothing to do with them. Sensible people do this. Now, it’s different when something actually is bad, like Sonic Boom.

Oh, that brings me to a third example I just thought of! This one is sort of reverse, and has to do with the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise. Unlike many people, I enjoyed Shadow the Hedgehog. It is known as one of the worst Sonic games, but I enjoyed it. However, I can see why many people dislike it, or even hate it. There are too many elements that, rightfully, make it a bad Sonic game. All the same, I really enjoyed playing it. I love Shadow (not as much as Knuckles, though), I liked being able to choose to be good or evil, I enjoyed using weapons even though it was so unlike a Sonic game to do such a thing, and the entire game itself was challenging. I tried getting all of the endings, but there was one I couldn’t get because I couldn’t fucking find this one thing to complete this one level… Still.

I assume that’s how fans of Sonic Boom feel, as few as they are. Hopefully they can see why it’s a bad game. But let’s face it, no matter how bad Shadow the Hedgehog was, it’s nowhere near as bad as Sonic Boom. You know, the same goes for Silent Hill 4: The Room. That is hands down my favorite Silent Hill game, but is often shot down by other Silent Hill fans. Even though it’s my favorite game, I can still see why some people don’t like it.

Another possible example is The Last Airbender. I loved the cartoon, so I was excited about the movie. The pronunciations of the names had me cringe each time they were said, and I have a great deal of complaints about other main aspects of the film. However, I was able to see the good in it, even though it’s small. People often say the entire movie sucked. Well, that’s not really true. This is a very small matter, but the graphics were pretty good. There were other tiny things that made it pretty entertaining. I wouldn’t voluntarily watch it again, but if someone else wanted to watch it with me, I’d be able to tolerate it. It’s just a matter of seeing things from different views.

Now, this person said my story was “bad writing” because he/she did not understand how the bakers act in the story, specifically mentally torturing others, not the actual act of physical violence. Long story short, he/she could not actually comprehend how someone could be so cruel, as if he/she was unaware of the reality of just how cruel real people are. Because of their cruelty, he/she said they dislike that particular story. No big deal, that’s fine, no problem. But he/she outright said it was “bad writing.” Um, no, it’s not, in fact, it’s the exact opposite. It’s realistic, it captures the mentality of a Sociopath, it shows how a “normal” mind reacts to such torment.

I can easily write this for multiple reasons; I have a criminal mind, I understand the basics of Psychology (maybe a little more), and I’ve done enough research on countless criminals to fully understand how it all works. It also helps that I realized at a young age how evil people are. My eyes have long been open to the reality of our world. Putting all of this together, it is actually very impressive writing.

So, just because you don’t understand how Psychology works, you deem it “bad writing?” That’s like me saying, “Psycho-Pass is a bad Anime because I have a hard time remembering their names.” (For the record, Psycho-Pass is an excellent Anime, and that’s saying something coming from me since I’m not a huge Anime person.) JUST BECAUSE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND SOMETHING, DOESN’T MAKE IT BAD. Actually, it means either you have a warped perspective of the world, or…….. yer dumb. That’s just it. Your opinion isn’t law, it doesn’t change all of the things that make it good.

I could’ve been fine with the lack of understanding, because I can explain that. I could’ve been fine with “I dislike this story,” that doesn’t bug me. But to flat out call it bad writing is just… selfish! Especially after he/she said, “I like the series, I just don’t like this story.” So, you’re a fan, but you called me a bad writer? Doesn’t that contradict itself? You, sir or madam, do not make sense to me. Ooh! I don’t understand you, so does that make you a bad person? By your logic, it does! T_T In reality, no, it doesn’t.

BUT THEN some little punk comes in and says to me, “someone’s a little butthurt.” Wow, someone give a trophy to this huge dick, he just tore me from my V to my A. “Butthurt” and “insulted” are two different things. The thing is, I didn’t even rage at the person calling me a bad writer, I gave them a fair amount of anger that was reasonable, enough to show them that they blatantly disrespected another human being for absolutely no rational explanation. But oh, here comes Mr. Raging Testosterone to tell me I’m “butthurt.” I wonder if maybe he just needed to be burped.

Now, I don’t actually know if he/she sent that person on me, or if they even know each other, but it reminded me of what youngins do, and what I, regrettably, also used to do. Someone starts being a big meanie, so let’s send all our little friends to flame them. Like… it’s embarrassing to know that I WAS LIKE THAT!! I just gotta keep reminding myself, “I was a stupid teenager.” Teenagers think some of the most ridiculous things are important, but they’re not! They think that their petty problems matter, but they don’t! “I’m so hardcore because I have an army of friends waiting to fight my battles, the ones I started because I decided to make this person angry!” Man, I hope you grow out of it just like I did, it’s so pathetic. Teenagers… are… pathetic! That’s all there is to it!

Now, note that a lot of my fans are teenagers, but you know what? They know they’re in THE PHASE. They know what’s going on with their minds and bodies, and they know that things feel like a BIG DEAL when they’re actually not. They understand that they will grow passed that once their body hits full maturity at age twenty. Makes me wonder why eighteen is the legal age… That’s still stupid teenage time. Though, I have to say I started to wise up at nineteen because I was thrown into the real world with no preparations for it. Man, was that a smack in the face.

And if Mr. Raging Testosterone was not a friend of sir or madam, then he was just a random kid who saw the conversation, went, “ooh! I’ma gonna stert a flam warz!” As if I was going to tolerate that shit. But it still irks me. It’s none of your business, kid! You don’t even know what we’re talking about. Why were you even on my channel? Do you just randomly go to channels to start fights? Better be careful, Hot Rod, you might overwork your tiny brain. I think I can already smell it smoking.

And now here’s angry gibberish.

lrksejtrljetoju9o4t6wurhjinklfdklndklgjnmfdkxzknf;zkljnf;lkhngklnsdegrs;mnklgaze’nkG DE’nkGA;nkGA;nk;hnkrhsznknkrhsznklhfrrhszzrhnkrhznklgzrdnkFUCK.

There.

Alright, I think I got some of it out. You can tip the bottle to try and empty it, but there’s always some residue. I just wish I didn’t have to deal with so many idiots in the career I chose. It sucks when you feel like the only intelligent person left. That’s alright, I just turn to Michael or Sempai, who are also very intelligent, so they are my reminder that there are some of us left. We’re a dying breed because the stupid ones can’t keep it in their pants.

I need to get back to work now. I’m not gonna proofread this post since it was just venting, so I apologize for any typos. I type faster than I think sometimes. XD

Insensitive Assholes at their Finest

WARNING: It’s rant time!

Everyone has had to deal with someone that seems to have absolutely no heart at all, whether directly, or indirectly. The jerks who laugh at things that are far from funny, things people can’t control, things that hinder every day life. You’ve either seen it, or you’ve had it happen to you. These bastards don’t understand how detrimental it is on us to be made fun of for our ailments, almost like they want to make it worse. Whether you’ve been a victim, or a witness to a victim, I’m sure most of you reading this will understand where I’m coming from, and that my frustration is justified. Here are my own personal experiences dealing with the literal shit of human society.

If you’ve been keeping up with me at all, you’ll know that I suffer from a mental illness known as Manic Depression, AKA Bipolar Disorder. If you don’t know what it is, it’s a depression disorder that greatly affects our moods, but it’s not just “mood swings.” You have your manic episodes, or “happy” episodes, and your depressed episodes. Manic episodes might not sound so bad. Large bursts of energy fill us with optimism, makes us determined and motivated, and life is full of puppies, flowers, rainbows, and candy.

It’s not all that fun. At all. In fact, it’s just as much of a road block as the depression episodes. While experiencing mania or hypermania, we may seem like the happiest person in the whole wide world, but our minds are both going a mile a minute, and remaining completely blank at the same time. Now, everyone is different, so symptoms may differ from person to person, but these are the things that I experience. I basically turn into a hyperactive child, bouncing around, not properly listening to people who are talking to me, I get easily distracted, and if someone is trying to be serious, it’s nothing but a joke to me. Obnoxious, loud, spontaneous… and reckless.

Having a manic episode is still dangerous. I have indeed participated in self mutilation while seemingly completely happy. The problem is, I’m not really aware that I’m doing it. It just… happens. The X on my hip was caused by one of these instances. During the episode, I don’t really seem to care, but other people definitely do. They ask, “why did you do this to yourself?” Do you know what I say? Something completely off topic, because I avoid the question. For me, my manic episodes last significantly shorter than my depression ones do, though they used to last longer when I was younger. When I was nineteen, I had one that lasted about three months. I had some long ones in my senior year of high school too.

Oh, it gets better. How does one come out of these episodes? Oh, well, IF ANY TINY LITTLE THING GOES WRONG, I’m brought spiraling down into an extremely deep depression. Doesn’t that sound fun? Oh yeah, it’s a fucking blast.

My depression episodes last a very long time, months on end. My brain takes anything bad, even the smallest thing, and reacts like it’s the end of the fucking world. I have no motivation, no determination, no appetite, and no energy. When I say no motivation, I mean not even enough motivation to watch a movie or play a video game. I lay in bed, staring at my wall, and listening to my thoughts. Oh, this is the greatest part; MY THOUGHTS. They run wild, literally nothing can silence them. I don’t hear voices, but I might as well, I can’t control what they say, I can’t stop them, and I can’t tell them they’re wrong. They say things like, “I’m worthless,” “I’m hopeless,” “no one cares about me,” “mommy didn’t love me,” “my life has no meaning,” and “I want to kill myself.” These are things I do not think while in my right state of mind. And you know what? I believe them.

You’d be lucky to get me to talk while in a “mild” depression episode, or even move for that matter. If I start to talk, you’ll know that things are gradually going downhill. If I start crying, I’m starting to have an attack. Oh, the attacks are the most fun, but I’ve only heard about them, because I don’t remember them. A few people have seen these attacks, but Sempai and Michael have seen them more than anyone, and they’ve provided me with the details that utterly horrified me. In fact, both have said, “you become a different person.”

Even when mildly depressed, I, again, turn into a child. If someone tries to gently grab me, I’ll yank away with a whiny grunt. I will pout, I will dead weight so no one can move me, I’ll refuse to look at anyone, and also refuse the much needed help. When the attacks happen, according to what my loved ones have told me, I’m like a child throwing a tantrum, except I’m dangerous. I have come very close to killing myself multiple times, but have succeeded in collecting a large amount of self inflicted scars on my body during my life. Also remember that I was not medicated until I was twenty, so when I was a teenager, my hormones made my depression even more unbearable.

I’m not just a danger to myself, though. I get violent both toward me, and the people around me. I’ve never tried to kill anyone, but I’ve left huge scratch marks on people that took quite some time to fade, and even bit Michael a few times. Luckily, he is much stronger than me, so he is able to hold me down. This doesn’t stop the screaming, however. Like I said, I am throwing a tantrum. I scream as if I were being murdered, my sobbing doesn’t stop, I fight every single fucking step of the way, and if I get a hold of something sharp, it needs to be taken away immediately.

After the violent part of the attack ends, it’s just hysterical crying. I am no longer a danger to anyone, and Michael and Sempai know to hold me tight like a fucking baby. They have to comfort me, saying “shhh,” and “it’s alright…” I’ve been told I’ve said things like, “why didn’t mommy love me?” “Where’s mommy?” and “I want my mommy.” Since most of my trauma stems from Erin’s abuse, that’s usually what my brain likes to focus on. An attack like this can last from one to three hours non-stop, and I’m not exaggerating. Once I go quiet again, it’s unlikely I will have an attack for another few days.

When in the mild stages of my depression, I will cry for literally no reason. You know when you get upset and you have a good cry for about ten, maybe twenty minutes? Yeah, mine last for a few hours, the waterworks turning on for long periods of time, shutting off shortly, and then turning on again. No fucking reason. And unlike a manic episode, it’s much harder to come out of the depression. Sometimes it’ll change out of nowhere for absolutely no reason at all, but simply trying to “cheer me up” does nothing. Doesn’t that sound fun?

You can imagine the hell this has put me through. I wasn’t diagnosed until I was twelve or thirteen, but I was showing symptoms much earlier, around six or seven. Naturally, no one paid attention to the quiet little blonde girl, not even her family. Erin herself would joke, “she’ll start crying for no reason, lock herself in her room, and come out an hour later completely happy.” Oh yes, you stupid bitch, so funny. Why did it take you until I was in middle school to get me checked out? A six year old should not be talking about wanting to die, or wanting to kill people. When I was diagnosed, they put me on medication that made it worse, so I refused to take it. When I was twenty, I decided on my own to get properly treated.

I had to endure this disorder on top of abuse and neglect from Erin, and constant bullying at school. This wasn’t “neener neener neener” bullying either, kids have tried to kill me. Not only that, but my entire life, I’ve had social phobia, which I didn’t know until recently is the same thing as Social Anxiety Disorder. Now, I’ve exhibited text book symptoms of this disorder to the T, but I have not been professionally diagnosed yet. I’m going to get psychoanalyzed in a few weeks. I’m preparing for the introduction of a second Other…

Oh yeah, Others. For those of you who don’t know, they are fictional creatures that represent real mental disorders. I created Annatier as a form of self therapy, because regular therapy doesn’t work on me. She has helped me understand my Manic Depression much better, to the point where I have found ways to cope, and have accepted the things I can’t control. Doing this has inspired many of my fans to create Others based on their disorders as well, and it has helped them cope too. I’m thrilled to hear this, because I feel that my purpose in life is to help others find ways to arm themselves against the unkindness life brings. I’ve endured a lot of pain, and I want to keep others from feeling it so severely, I want to help them find the strength to meet these issues head on. I have been told by countless people that my advice is impeccable, and I’ve saved tons of people from suicide, including my own brother.

Anyway, thanks to medical science, I can keep my moods stable so I can lead as normal a life as I can. What does this mean? I have to take medication for the rest of my life. Every. Single. Day. It’s not fun, I don’t like it, I wish I didn’t have to, but it’s the only thing that keeps me emotionally normal and shuts my brain up. On top of depression, I’ve also had to struggle with insomnia since I was nine. “Oh, how annoying can it possibly be to take a couple pills every day?” A couple? Not including my vitamin B and vitamin D pills, I have to take nine pills each day. In the morning: one Lamotrigine, one Bupropion, and one Venlafaxine. In the evening, around 5:30 or so: one Lamotrigine, one Bupropion, and one Venlafaxine. At night, before bed: three Trazodone pills. Those are to get me to sleep. I have to take pills just to fucking sleep. What keeps me awake? Well, the earlier meds have worn off, sooooo…. my thoughts.

That means, each day, I’m taking three anti-depressants and one anti-psychotic. FUN, RIGHT? FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. It’s so COOL to have this disorder, and I’m so FUCKING HARDCORE. And god forbid, if I forget to take my medication, I may not have an attack, but I will certainly fall. I don’t have many manic episodes anymore, they seem to be rare as you get older. Speaking of, Manic Depressive Disorder gets worse as you age. I’m twenty-five. I’ve got a long way to go, and a hell that will never leave. THERE IS NO CURE FOR MENTAL ILLNESS.

I also suffer from two disorders that affect my appearance negatively, which doesn’t help make me feel better. I am very self conscious about my appearance, so dealing with these two things are a nightmare. People that have one usually have the other as well, and there is no cure. These things are…

Dermatillomania: “An impulse control disorder characterized by the repeated urge to pick at one’s own skin, often to the extent that damage is caused.”

Trichotillomania: “An impulse control disorder characterized by the compulsive urge to pull out one’s hair, leading to hair loss and balding, distress, and social or functional impairment.”

These two disorders are NOT, I repeat, NOT a joke. Since I was nine or ten, I’ve pulled out my eyebrows and eyelashes, and obsessively picked at my skin. In fifth grade, both arms were covered in scabs. When I was sixteen, I started pulling hair from my head. Since I hit puberty, I’ve picked at every single goddamn imperfection on my face, to the point where I have embarrassing scabs and scars. Here is a recent picture:

this_is_why_i_m_not_pretty_by_reitanna_seishin-d9ny7aq

It took a lot of courage to even post this on DA, let alone here. Of course, you can’t see the bald spots on my scalp, but you can see my eyelashes, eyebrows, and skin. Oh, by the way? My eyebrows will never properly grow back. The only hair that grows is vellus hair, and maybe a few terminal hairs here and there, but not enough to form a shape. I have to draw them on. Every. Day.

As for my face? These were not huge pimples. These were things that other people could not see unless they looked as close as I did. And do you know what I do? I pick off the scab to reveal little white bulbs that I try to pull out with tweezers. What are these white bulbs? MY HAIR FOLICLES. I cannot control this, no matter how hard I try. Hell, you should see my back and shoulders! And don’t even get me started on my pubic area. ISN’T. THIS. FUN??? I’ve tried many things to get myself to stop, but it NEVER FUCKING WORKS.

Why have I brought all of this shit up? To make you pity me? To try and get sympathy? To show how horrible my life has been? No. To make people understand. In fact, I think pity is one of the most disgusting things a person can give to the disabled. But chances are, many of you do understand! A lot of you may struggle with the same obstacles! Hell, I bet some of you have it worse than me! I’m just one out of seven billion people on the planet, of course there are people like me, or have worse situations! The point is…

I have been ridiculed for these things. These disorders I can’t control, these painful and degrading things that I didn’t choose to have. Some of you can relate to what I’m about to say. I’ve been accused of, get this…. I’ve been accused of CRYING OUT FOR ATTENTION. Because I’m honest about what goes on in my head? Because I’m a human being who is done hiding like I’ve done for nearly two decades? Because I want to help people understand what could possibly being going on in their heads?

Oh! OH! It gets better! I’ve been called “emo” because I have depression. I HAVE A SERIOUS MEDICAL DISORDER THAT I CANNOT CONTROL IN ANY WAY, and I’m apparently “emo.” Um, I am twenty-five years old, there is no such thing as stupid little teenage fashion cliques! Hell, “emo” isn’t even a thing! People use it to describe EVERYTHING!!! I FUCKING HATE IT!! Oh! And then there’s this one… “edgy.” I’m “edgy” because I HAVE A FUCKING MENTAL DISORDER. It’s so COOL and HARDCORE to have to take NINE PILLS EVERY FUCKING DAY FOR THE REST OF MY FUCKING LIFE!! Do you understand how much I HATE this? I would give both of my legs to be cured of this. I’d never be able to walk again, but that’s way better than dealing with my illness!

Same with the DTM and TTM. I posted that picture on Deviant Art, not to get fucking sympathy or pity, but to make people understand why I don’t think I’m pretty. I’m SICK and TIRED of hearing, “oh, you’re pretty no matter what!” NO! FUCKING NO! DO YOU SEE THAT? THAT IS UGLY AS FUCKING SIN!! I wanted people to tell me how bad it was, to basically punch me in the face to possibly get my mind to understand that it needs to STOP. It was basically a voluntary intervention. You know what? I got a lot of people who didn’t read the description telling me what I didn’t want to hear: That I’m pretty on the inside! That the outside doesn’t matter! IT MATTERS TO ME! The other people told me exactly what I needed to hear, they were honest, and though the words may look unkind, I needed to hear them from somebody other than myself. The truth isn’t always pleasant, but it is always necessary.

Oho, but there was one user who was butt hurt that I blocked him for being a douchebag, who claimed I posted it to get attention. Are you fucking serious? That’s the reason I want to STOP! Because these scars and bald spots bring me unwanted attention! People stare at me like I’m some fucking druggie! I’m already afraid of people, so WHY the FUCK would I WANT them staring at me you STUPID asshole?!? I hate sympathy, I hate pity, and the only attention I want is the kind I’m rewarded with when I work hard at what I do. When I create something, draw, write, make a video, whatever, that’s what I like. I don’t require it, except, of course, on YouTube because that’s my job, and I am certainly not going to try and get attention through dishonest ways, or by exploiting my flaws! I need people to understand why I say the things I say, why I do the things I do, and so I can help others, as well as receive help for myself! Asking for help is not the same as crying out for attention! I’M FUCKING SUICIDAL, so I must be “emo” and “edgy,” right? FUCK OFF.

I don’t even understand why some people go through such lengths to get attention, the people who seem to “need” it. I don’t understand that. I’m an adult, adults aren’t “edgy” (whatever the fuck that means, because edgy only has three definitions, and these stupid freaks are using it in a way that doesn’t fit any of them), adults are not “emo” (that’s just something stupid teenagers came up with so that they could take multiple fashions, throw them together, and call it a new thing), and adults don’t “cry out for attention.” God… I hope not… then again, there was that lady that lied about being a 9/11 survivor… okay, some sad excuses for human beings do that, but responsible adults with common sense like me DO NOT. I rarely even leave the house, and that’s so people don’t see me, and I don’t see them! Making videos is the only time I feel comfortable being myself somewhat publicly because I’m not face to face with a real person!

I’m not the only fucking person with Manic Depression, I’m not the only fucking person with DTM and TTM, and I’m not the only fucking person who is comfortable enough to talk to people about it. So many people don’t understand mental illness, and I used to be afraid of admitting that my brain wasn’t wired right. But it’s shameful to feel ashamed, and I’m sick of hiding like a sniveling coward. I have completely accepted what I have. I don’t like it. I never will. I hate it. But I’m not hiding. I am a human being, so I will act like a human being. YOU, who attack people like me, are SNIVELING FUCKING COWARDS.

I wish… oho, do I wish… that I could give these bastards a mental illness. Let’s see how “edgy” they think it is. Remember that “point-of-view” gun from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Yeah, I want that, but super powered. Let’s see how they like crying for no reason, let’s see how they like wanting to die, let’s see how they like taking medication, pulling out their hair until they’re bald, and digging holes into their faces! ISN’T IT SO SUPER DUPER COOL?? OH MY GOD, I’M SO FUCKING EDGY!!

You bastards think you’re all big, bad wolves hiding behind a computer, but you’re nothing but sheep. I guarantee that, if you met me face to face, you wouldn’t be able to show those big balls you pretend to have. No, you’d cower. There’s a reason people have told me I’m scary, there’s a reason people have learned not to mess with me. I can’t do SHIT through the internet, but let me tell you, when I’m face to face with someone who has enraged me, my social anxiety is GONE. You’re sheep. Cowardly, pathetic sheep being led by a shepherd, not knowing that your shepherd is taking you to a slaughter house. I’m not afraid like you are, and that’s why I’m honest about what I feel, and how I live. That’s why I don’t keep secrets. What’s the point? I have nothing to gain by hiding, but everything to gain by showing my true self.

Even though I only get one out of every hundred people who decide it’s funny to make fun of the disabled, it still infuriates me to no end. I mean, what if I didn’t have medication and killed myself? Would they say, “oops?” Would they feel ashamed? HA! No, that’s not how it works, apparently. They’d laugh and feel PROUD at what they accomplished. I hate these people who get joy out of seeing other people suffer for no reason. I did not choose to have these disorders, I don’t want them, and I sure as hell don’t need them. Please! Take them away if me talking about them bugs you so much! I would shake your hand and kiss your ass for the rest of my life if you took them away! Why would anyone lie about having an illness? Why does anyone lie in the first place? Lying gets you nowhere! Just deeper into the hole you’ve dug yourself! THAT’S WHY I DON’T DO IT! My code of honor, once again, is honesty, and I cherish it like it’s my own beating heart. I choose not to lie to anyone. Why? Because the consequences for lying are way worse than the consequences for telling the truth. I am literally the most honest person you will ever speak to.

If these fucking shit holes are over the age of twenty, I would be disturbed beyond measure. These are things that snotty nosed preteens and teenagers do to each other. Where the fuck are the parents? Hope you’re proud of your fucking kid! But if they are an adult, I laugh at how ludicrous their behavior is! I mean, you’ve got to be pretty insecure to act like a dull witted teenage bully when you’re a fucking adult that is supposed to be paying bills and taxes! Maybe they have a small dick, I don’t know. Maybe the girls are uglier than I am, I don’t know! But even if this enrages me to no end, at least I know that their warped perception of me is not true.

And what they don’t know is, I am the kindest and most loyal person to people who also show kindness, and I am a wonderful friend. I can love just as much as I can hate, and I can hate like fire can burn. If these trash talking lowlifes had just been kind, and spoken to me as a fellow human, we probably could’ve been great friends! No, they have to make themselves feel better by making other people feel bad. Whatever issues they have to deal with in their life, I could’ve given them the advice to cope. You know what, shit heads? You chose to be miserable, and you chose to be just another zit on the face of society just waiting to be popped. I’d love to take my disorders and shove them into your head, that way, I’d be free of them, and you’d get a taste of hell. Ha! Maybe someone would call you “emo!”

To the people who are kind, to the people who have witnessed behavior like this, and to the people who have experienced this, speak up. None of us should be hiding. The pecking order is fucked up, and we need to do the pecking here. If you have a mental illness, don’t hide from it, fight for it. You know what? Many people have been able to find ways to make their illnesses help them in life. Admittedly, a lot of my best creations have come from my fucked up mind, but I’d still rather be rid of it. All the same, we need to learn to stand up, because we are way stronger than these hip-gangster wannabes. Why? Because we have to deal with literal hell, and yet, we’re still here! They wouldn’t last a week in our shoes! I don’t have the power to start a movement, that’s a very unrealistic fantasy, but maybe my words could reach someone who does. People like this need to be put in their place.

Just stop the silence.

Current Qualifications for Being Emo

The word “emo” popped up in juvenile labels at some point, and has become very misconstrued over the years. Basically, it took fashion styles from gothic, punk, grunge, skater, and rave, mixed them all together, and vomited them into the face of society. On top of that, they made the act of self mutilation “cool,” as well as being miserable. The word itself comes from the word “emotional.”

However, it’s been eaten and thrown back up so many times, we’re unsure of what it even is anymore! This makes low life kids, tweens, and teens call anyone who is anyone “emo,” almost as if it’s become a fad to call people “emo.” Of course, those of us in the real world know that fads and labels are a waste of time.

But in case you’re wondering, or if you’re afraid of being accused of being “emo,” I’m going to tell you the things that currently qualify you as “emo.”

First off, your hair must be one (or a mix) of the following colors:

  • Black
  • Blonde
  • Brown
  • Blue
  • Pink
  • Purple
  • Green
  • Orange
  • Yellow
  • Red
  • White
  • Silver

Next, your hair must be styled in one (or a mix) of the following fashions:

  • Side swept fringe
  • Straight across fringe
  • No fringe
  • Pixie
  • Bob
  • Ringlets
  • Wavy
  • Short
  • Medium
  • Long
  • Shaved
  • Bald

When it comes to clothing, you must be very careful. If you don’t want to be called “emo,” avoid wearing any of the following colors in any shade:

  • Black
  • White
  • Grey
  • Pink
  • Blue
  • Purple
  • Green
  • Red
  • Yellow
  • Orange

BROWN IS THE SAFE COLOR! As for patterns, avoid any of the following:

  • Stripes
  • Polka dots
  • Checkers
  • Argyle
  • Animal print
  • Sawtooth
  • Paint splatters
  • Flowers
  • Spikey stuff
  • Plaid
  • Just lines
  • Solid

In order to be “emo,” your clothes must be any of these:

  • Long sleeved
  • Short sleeved
  • Spaghetti strap
  • Sleeveless
  • Cut off
  • Corsets
  • Dresses, any length
  • Skirts, any length
  • Shorts, any length
  • Pants
  • Any kind of belts

Shoes must consist of:

  • Boots
  • High heels
  • Wedges
  • Sneakers
  • Canvas shoes
  • Sandals
  • Those weird like… roman type shoes…
  • Uggs
  • Crocks
  • Flats
  • Swimming flippers
  • Those traditional Japanese wooden sandals
  • Slippers

For socks or leggings in any color, styles must include:

  • Stripes
  • Polka dots
  • Rainbow
  • Argyle
  • Animal print
  • Sawtooth
  • Checkers
  • Plaid
  • Patterns with licensed cartoons from any genre
  • Solid
  • Fishnet
  • Lace
  • Any sort of cool patterns knitted into the fabric and stuff
  • Solid color
  • Tights
  • Thigh high
  • Above knee
  • Knee high
  • Ankle
  • Below ankle

In fashion alone, if you don’t want to look emo, you must avoid any of the following:

  • Studs
  • Chains
  • Lace
  • Pleated fabric
  • Layers in clothing
  • That kind of fabric found under poodle skirts
  • Denim
  • Fleece
  • Silk
  • Velvet
  • Suede
  • Leather
  • Pleather
  • Vinyl
  • Collars
  • Chokers
  • Jewelry
  • Tattoos
  • Laces
  • Buttons
  • Frogs
  • Clasps
  • Velcro
  • Rips or tears
  • Hair gel
  • No hair gel
  • Nails painted any color

Also, if you have been professionally diagnosed with ANY mental disability, you’re fucked for life. Though you have to take medication to keep your brain from making you hurt yourself or someone else, and no matter how much therapy you are required by the state to take, no matter how difficult your life has become due to your disorders, YOU ARE “EMO.” Suicidal thoughts, self harm, any sort of anger or sadness of varying levels, and even happiness can tag you. And god forbid, if you have homicidal thoughts, you’re just so super “emo.”

Music is a big one too. If you’re into any of these genres, you’re “emo:”

  • Rock
  • Metal
  • Soft rock
  • Pop
  • Classical
  • Musicals
  • Electronic music under its various sub genres
  • Industrial
  • Punk
  • Grunge
  • Choral music
  • Industrial jungle pussy punk
  • Ambiance and/or binaural beats

Also avoid movies or TV shows from these genres:

  • Horror and all sub genres
  • Drama
  • Romantic
  • Historical
  • Documentaries of any kind
  • Comedy
  • Thriller
  • Mystery
  • Anything animated

So, in conclusion, in order to NOT be “emo,” you must either be plain and boring, or a hip gangsta wannabe. Also note that AGE DOES NOT MATTER!! If you’re an adult who has discarded labels back in high school, and you just dress however you want as long as it’s cute, if you shop at Forever21, Hot Topic, JCPenny… or anywhere else for that matter, you are NOT safe from the “emo” tag! Even if you looooove colors, or even if your job requires you to only wear black. What’s wrong with you? Why are you not a hip gangsta wannabe?

Also beware of art. If you are an artist, or even like ANY type of art, you’re soooooooooo super “emo.” Video games also fuck you. Sideways!

Even though labels don’t exist in the real world, you’ll still be tagged by little kids, tweens, and teenagers over the internet because they’re too scared to say it to an adult’s face. These youngins usually have low intelligence, are easily influenced into doing bad things, and will become future criminals. They will enter the real world with a warped idea of how adulthood is supposed to be, and then realize they are completely fucked no matter what they do because they won’t have everything handed to them anymore. They will live with their parents, and possibly continue to act like a little teenager, trolling people on the internet, taking out all of their misery on people who are just simply human beings living their life.

Take my advice: stop being human and transform into a turtle, the least “emo” animal in the world.

YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE AN OPINION!!

I just recently watched a video on ten laws in the USA that no one follows, and one of them was jaywalking, which was the only one on the list that I myself do indeed follow. So I commented on the video explaining that I don’t jaywalk, but that’s not to say I haven’t jaywalked because I used to have friends in high school that were not quite as rule abiding as me, and due to peer pressure, I have jaywalked in my life very few times. (I had to jaywalk last night when walking outside with my boyfriend at twelve o’clock at night because there was a really creepy dude in front of us, but that’s way different.)

There was no harm intended in the comment… in fact, it was simply stating that all of the “friends” who frequently jaywalked never followed any rules, never finished high school, and never did anything with their life. The point of the comment was saying that I was always the good kid in my group of bad friends.

AND I WAS ATTACKED FOR IT.

I had to remove the comment from the video because I was getting so much hate. And for what? For being a good kid? I’ve never done drugs, never drank, never stolen, and never cheated, and I’m the bad person? Am I not allowed to express my opinion because I’m a good person? Is it wrong that I happen to care about my own fucking morals? Is it wrong to even have morals? What the fuck has this stupid world come to? Where someone can’t even express that they follow ONE FUCKING LAW out of a list of ten that no one else follows because they will get the rest of the internet HATING on them? I am SOOO fucking sorry that I’m not the crack smoking, vodka drinking, gun wielding badass that you need to be in order to have any sort of value in this world.

I fucking hate people. I wish I ruled the world, I really did, because then we wouldn’t have so many FUCKING IDIOTS. I shouldn’t have to be afraid of commenting on videos, I shouldn’t be afraid of being judged, and I shouldn’t have to REMOVE the comment just because people are disgusting drug users who need to be erased from this already disgusting, dishonest world. And people wonder why I want to kill myself! BECAUSE OF THIS SHIT! Because every single fucking piece of human shit is just another EYESORE on this fucking planet!

You know, it took me a year to get the courage to comment on other people’s videos again… maybe I made a fucking mistake. Here’s a lesson to all of you: don’t have an opinion, because if you do, you’ll be hated. Don’t speak your mind, don’t tell the truth, don’t be a good person. If you’re a good person, you might as well hide like I have for two years being stuck in my goddamn house with agoraphobia because you know what? People are shit. People are going to hate you, they are going to bully you, and they are going to tell you that you are worthless and should kill yourself. Why? For being smart. For being honest. For being nice.

I would not be upset if every human on the planet dropped dead RIGHT now. If there’s a god, he fucked up making us. We’re bad, and he should feel bad. I HATE THIS WORLD.

Just Need to Vent

YouTube finally fixed the problem we were having with the comments page, so I went through a few pages of comments that I wasn’t able to go through for the passed couple of days. There actually weren’t many hateful comments, just one or two, one that made me laugh because they called me “emo,” obviously one of those idiots who doesn’t understand that labels don’t exist to me anymore because I left that behind in high school. Apparently dressing the way you want makes you emo, scene, or goth, even if you wear clothes that don’t fit in with that style. Apparently everything depends on your clothes and hair. Apparently I can’t just enjoy certain fashions. Yeah, well fuck people who think that way, because i’ll wear shit from whatever store I shop from as long as it’s cute. Maybe that’s a frilly pink dress, maybe that’s some awesome blue jeans and a gaming t-shirt, maybe that’s a black corset with a plaid skirt. If I went under labels, then I’d be a different label every time I get dressed, because I have many different styles that can range from “prep” to “goth” or whatever. But even when I had my goth phase in high school, I was never EMO. Apparently ANYTHING dark or unorthodox is fucking EMO. Is punching stupid little shits in the face emo? Because then maybe we’d be on to something.

Anyway, there was one comment that irked me, and the reason why is because it was so unbelievably STUPID, I had to refrain from messaging the person and chewing them out. Instead I simply blocked them, which took away the comment, so I can’t copy and paste it word for word, but i’ll try to remember what it said.

“Do you remember me Reitanna? I am your medicine (or some other stupid shit, the typing was really bad and I can’t remember), I am your mother Aaron.”

The comment was a little longer, but like I said, it was so poorly worded and the spelling was awful, I couldn’t really tell what it said, but I understood the first and last part. Now, let me just clarify something. No, this comment did not scare me or upset me because it was apparently from the woman who birthed me, because it wasn’t. If that whore attempted to comment on my shit and let me know it was her, she would not call me by my INTERNET ALIAS and she would not SPELL HER OWN DAMN NAME WRONG. “Aaron” is a boy’s name, “ERIN” is the female spelling of it. No, why this comment bothers me is because of the simple stupidity. The fact that this person wanted to harm my mentality by trying to act like Erin. Do you know what would’ve happened if that comment had been written correctly? Welp, I’ve got LOTS of different things in my medicine cupboard that would be perfect to overdose on! In fact, I think you can overdose on too much iron, and I have plenty of iron. Hell, I could just take every single goddamn thing in every single fucking pill bottle. If that comment had been written correctly, I’d lose it. I wouldn’t care about promises. I’d have fucking killed myself because it’s either her, or me, and I don’t know where she is. Ha! Or I could go the other route and just do what I’ve fantasized about doing for a loooooooong ass time! This is why I need anti-psychotics.

But you know what, this little fucker, who is probably another stupid ten year old that doesn’t belong on YouTube, is fucking LUCKY that I have enough self control. Because you know what? It’s not hard to find people. It’s not. Especially when you have resources, which I do have. The Deep Web is a very scary place, my friends. and this stupid little fuck is VERY lucky that I am at least sane enough to block his stupid little ass and sit here festering in my own anger. The stupidity is so angersome… I get more stupidity on YouTube than I get on DA, and I am SO glad I don’t go on Tumblr, because then I’d shoot myself, and the gun is not my preferred way to go. Too loud. Plus, there have been instances where people have tried to shoot themselves and survived, and I am not living as a faceless vegetable. In fact, when I write my will, I will make sure to state, “if I am ever in a vegetative state, PULL THE PLUG.”

I really wish I could sock this kid in the face though. No… even better, I wish I could take all of my thoughts, feelings, and memories and zap them into his/her brain and make them experience every single second of torment I had to go through from that pig that dares to call herself my mother. Heh… maybe he’d off himself and the gene pool would be cleared of one less idiot.

Are you happy kid? You got what you wanted. You got under my skin. But just so you know (not that you’re even reading this), you could’ve caused a death. If you were intelligent in any way, shape, or form, you would’ve caused someone to commit suicide. YOU ARE SCUM.

I get my medication back in 5 days… it will be so nice not to feel like this anymore… so easily angered, so full of hate, so tempted to go out and do something that could land me in jail, so willing to end my own life. And you know what? If I did, that stupid fuck would be happy. As would many people. As would I. All the same…

I feel sorry for that kid’s FUCKING PARENTS.