I’m taking this time to empty my closet, my mind.
I think I’m mad. Very mad. Not that naked, living-on-the-street kind, with dirty hair and unintelligible speech. Not the type deserving of institutionalization (Yes, I do know some big words!), though I sometimes think I am.
I talk to myself a lot. Entire conversations. I think I’m the funniest person I know. When
everyone else normal people are sleeping, I’m wide awake picking at the cuticles on my feet or watching my husband sleep, listening to him snore, talking to myself about it and finally blogging about it. Like now(its 2:30 am as I write this).
I think most people are stupid. I think violence would stop a lot of things, though I do NOT endorse female-gender-abuse. Men beat the crap out of each other routinely. It’s called wrestling.
Some people think I’m nice. I don’t think so. I hide so deep inside myself that they can’t see me. It’s dark down there. They can’t see I’m selfish. Greedy. Mean. They can’t see I’m some sort of zombie. I will eat their brains when they come closer.
My thoughts scare me. I’m pretty morbid. I’ve been known to analyze murders, to point out mistakes, and say how I could have done it better, how I wouldn’t have been caught ( blame Crime and Investigations).
I’ve been known to laugh out loud during ‘kiss moments’ because I don’t think a person’s tongue should go that far down another person’s throat! I mean all that
puppy dog slobbering french kissing is not for me.
There’s a rat’s nest on my head. It’s technically supposed to be my hair, but it’s now so tangled I fear something’s taken up residence in it. I haven’t been to the salon in months.
I hate wearing clothes. I’m naked more often than not.
I despise people who cry as a tool. That said, I cry when watching some movies. Like the Indian one Like Stars On Earth. You should see that if you’re ever in need of a good cry. It’s about a boy with learning difficulties. You can watch it here.
I’ve been told I have the energy of a bouncing ball. And I’m currently as round as a ball. A big ball of blubber. Blubber from a whale. Gerrit? I’m fat. And I hate it. It doesn’t make me feel pretty.
I like talking to strangers. A lot. I sometimes just stop them on the street and say they smell great, and then they are happy to talk to me. They tell me things and think I’ll keep their secrets. Who’s crazy now, People? Don’t talk to strangers. EVER.
I think I might be bisexual, but I’ve never explored that, and I’m not sure I ever will.
I talk a lot. And very fast too. That’s why I blog.
I think I’m capable of murder. Not randomly, that’s stupid. BUT if you try to blackmail me, I definitely won’t pay you to go away.
So maybe I need time in that Institution, eh?
My closet’s empty. For now.
Want to know anything else about me? Ask me in the comments section.