Something weird happened to me as I was sitting on the bus yesterday. I had spotted a woman with brown hair. It stopped just past her shoulders. She should’ve had it up instead of down. I was mesmerized with her neck. It was elongated like something you’d see in a television commercial. You know the one with the beautiful woman holding hands with her handsome looking fella. I was quickly reminded by my therapist, as I just left his office, that I shouldn’t be so fixated on random women. I could tell he was afraid of me turning into some psycho killer. I’m way past my twenties but young enough to still turn into one according to him. He said anyone can exhibit personality traits of a killer, but you need to keep them in check when they do appear. Sometimes it becomes so overwhelming for the person that it becomes the only thing he thinks about when he wakes up and when he falls asleep, if he even is sleeping. Most killers I’ve read about like to prowl around at night for their prey. My parents thought I was a little weird, but they knew me enough to know I wasn’t a crazed, psycho killer. My session with my therapist was the usual. We said the given hellos in the beginning. I sat on his leather chair, well past its prime, and spilled out what had been bothering me in the last month. I never thought I would go to a shrink as my dad calls them, but my mom was so worried from all my past suicide attempts that I needed regular therapy. I suppose in a way that I don’t have a purpose for living and I don’t mean this is a negative way. From grade school I never felt I belonged even though I had all the money in the world thanks to my parents’ inheritance they received from their parents and picking careers that pay them boatloads of money Don’t get me wrong, they worked hard to get where they are but what bothers me is the persona they display in public versus when they are alone in their empty house. This is what I told my therapist. I guess I should call him by his name, but I’m afraid too. It makes it too real. When I sit in his waiting room, I stare at his name etched on his door plaque, which is stupid because he’s the only person you can see once you enter the room. The other therapist left so he’s the only on there now. Word is the other therapist got a little too flirty with my therapist’s wife and so they went their separate ways. It was probably for the better. I didn’t like how he looked at me when he opened his door and realized there was more than his patient in the waiting room. It was similar to the face one makes when your sibling realizes he’s not the center of attention. I know I’m bouncing from one topic to another, but no one is going to read this except me. Who fucking cares! I should’ve given that woman with the brown hair my phone number, but she’d never meet with me. She’d find me too weird. I wonder why I went from being that cute kid wearing the trendiest to clothes to the awkward looking teenager to the unsure adult without any direction. I think I realized what it was that was bothering me in the shower. I told my therapist I felt someone, or something was out to get it. Whoever this person or thing was wanted to hurt me. He or it wanted to cut me down to size, make me small, make me suffer, and make my life a living hell. He said it made sense due to my underlying anxieties about life. It was a representation of what I couldn’t control, something I conjured in my head. I’m trying to keep it together. One of my friends says rich people shouldn’t have problems because we’re too good for that. He’s now a lawyer complaining about how much his wedding is costing. I’d like to get married one day to make my mom happy, if nothing else.
Finally!!! I’ve been waiting for this to come. My little sister sent me these strawberry Kit Kats from where’s she’s living. She’s in Japan for a few weeks on business. She’s the shining star in my family. She’s made my parents proud unlike me. She tries to get me to be more like her, but I don’t have her ambition. I love her though and would do anything for her. She promised she’d stop by and say hello to me. It gets lonely around here. I could buy a dog somewhere, but I really don’t have the urge to take it outside so it can pee and poop. Man, these Kit Kats are so good. I can’t stop eating them. She better have some when she visits.
I hate the rain and everyone who walks in the rain. Okay, I take that back. I hate parents who let their kids jump in puddles when I’m standing close by. Let’s talks about that, shall we? Why can’t parents keep control of their kids these days? They let them run wild in stores. They break things. They touch things they shouldn’t. It’s not cute that your kid broke whatever it was on the shelf. I can’t tell you how often I see the snot ridden brats who make my life a living hell. I was so pissed that I confronted the parent whose kid ran right into me. He almost knocked me down. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal, but her kid was fat. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find the mom was even fatter. I told the kid to lay off the cheeseburgers and fries. His mom glared at me and was about to say something to me when her cry baby of kid broke into hysteria. I thought for a minute his mom was going to eat me. It wasn’t one of the best moments in my life, but shit teach your kids some manners and feed your kids properly. She clearly had enough money to buy him a decent lunch at the grocery store instead of being lazy and sitting in her car at the drive thru. When I have kids, they will behave because I’ll make them.