Unfit For Public Consumption, Does Not Play Well With Others

These are the moments you could really use a friend, but you can't quite ask for one. In part, because if your suffering isn't apparent already then the people you're dealing with aren't really equipped or willing to deal with your shit anyhow.

Also, you can't really can't justify forcing yourself on most other living beings at that point, especially those you actually like. It's not really feasible to pilot yourself around in heavy machinery while you are having withdrawals that produce auditory hallucinations, rage spasms, and electrical jolts in your noggin (no shit, brain zaps SUCK). Assistance is required. So while you might be rather keen to

• pick up the meds that might alleviate some aspects of this condition
• file that police report about the $600+ checking fraud somebody tried to run on you
• buy some food
• deposit that money so you can do that other stuff
• attempt to do some type of socializing or uplifting thing for yourself, to counter the morass of negative shit in which you currently wallow

it just doesn't seem fair to enlist the much needed help to achieve these meager goals as it requires fobbing yourself off on someone. And you are No Fun to be around. Or best case scenario, you are a Ticking Time Bomb.

Lots of people think they have bad tempers. To which I say: Fuck You.

Having a Bad Temper does not mean you freak out and lose your shit all the time and yell. Ari Gold is not the poster boy for Bad Temper. If everybody tip toes around you because you have tantrums and scream and yell and stomp around in a bad mood, that's not an indication you have a Bad Temper. That's an indication you are a shit-a-bed little twat with no self control. You're a self indulgent fucktard who blows his load in 10 seconds flat.

People with real Bad Tempers know it, and often have known it for years, possibly all of their conscious lives. Most of them have spent a great deal of time learning and practicing the control of those tempers. You may never have seen them really, truly lose their cool. Because that's how bad a scene it is. When somebody with a true Bad Temper loses it, shit gets nasty quick. They say The Worst Thing Possible without even meaning to. Evil, hurtful shit flies out of their mouths that cuts people to the quick, and they didn't even have to think about it. And if they did give it a little thought, its practically blasphemous. Relationships don't just end, they implode over moments like that.

People with honestly Bad Tempers sometimes find themselves throttling a guy in Chem class. Not because he was doing anything that awful. Choking him just felt like the right response to whatever the schmuck was doing at the moment. Other people are speaking metaphorically when they talk about curb stomping someone. The person with the Bad Temper is actually acting it out in their heads. They don't understand why you are not doing the same. But they know it's freaking everyone out and they are weird and that it's Not Okay. So they spend a lot of time and energy dealing with it and trying to express themselves in a socially acceptable way (read: repression).  It's not cool, you can't summon it at will, it's not berserker fun, and you don't feel very good about yourself on the rare occasion that you indulge.

Which is to say, sometimes I stay home for the good of everyone. And when something beyond my control (say, a chemical imbalance from outside ingested legal sources) trips up my zen, it is no bueno. And yes fuckers, what you see is my zen. If you had seen my not-zen we wouldn't be associating. Ever.

In completely related news, I'm offa my nerve pills. After the involuntary 4 day withdrawal caused by my pharmacy's incompetence, I said Eff it. There are a couple of reasons for this, some quite sane. Some surely temperamental and reactive. But there's a theme and a reason here, and it's a reason that's compelled me before.

I've something in me (a competition like biting on tinfoil just a meanness in this world) and I don't know what to call it, but I get to day four of withdrawal, have the means to get the pills and end this hell, and I get pissed off and decide I'm not ever taking those god damned things again. Foxtrot that in the alpha! I'll just lay around here with a crippling headache, nausea, seizing muscles, brain zaps and flop sweats. Titration be damned. It's cold turkey time, baby.

Maybe the term for that something is Moronic Masochism.