sent to old guy...

...in an email with the subject line that reads "And now, for the rest of the story..."


And it makes me want to run away. Away from you, away from New Guy, away from all therapy and into the arms of eventual cirrhosis of the liver, which I would have to interrupt with a large caliber firearm, which I can totally purchase without interference due to my extraordinary talent for dissociation, social acceptance (when beneficial), mindful pretense and the ensuing need for deception. I am still in favor of the Magnum .500. SOMETIMES I JUST WANT TO BE DEAD. Actually though, the main reason I am free to purchase my weapon of choice, is because I am not really very 'mindful' and I still retain enough brain cells to maintain the ability to plan for the future instead of just being a mindful (mindless) retard consumed by whatever sensory experiences happen to pass through my present moment and squash out reality and the ability to reason in anticipation of the culmination of the current directional course. Not being mindful might be the only thing that can save my life. Now I just need to figure out how that might happen (and yes - I DARE to do it by thinking of the future instead of the present - and I don't need your permission to do it because YOU ARE JUST PLAIN WRONG). And besides just being wrong, sometimes you simply give me the creeps. And I can't help but wonder why you had to scream at me one day on the phone. Before I hung up on you, you said, "I don't need to be lectured by you..." Was that your mother you were sassing, Old Guy? Perhaps you should stop mindfully dissociating her and address her directly. I know that would create cognitive dissonance for you because of your Buddhist leanings, BUT YOU CHOSE THAT. Deal with it.

I am here. I don't really expect you to care, but... whatever. Click if you choose. I'm not sure I really give a fuck at this point.