Socially embalmed

I can’t think of a more apt way to describe 4 solid days of being out in the dish surrounded by so much stimuli. Yesterday’s two cookouts, no matter how much Mango-rita infused fun was had…Embalmed me of whatever motivation I had left to further play social butterfly.

Today I am listless, grumpy, and back in “what is the point of any of this shit” territory.

Socializing is hell for me. No matter how much I try to adapt to the social situation, the bottom line is..I am always on the outside looking in. I’ve been told this is my own doing but I am not convinced of that. I’m different and people may be polite but they are always uneasy with those who aren’t mirror images of themselves. I get it, because I am horribly uncomfortable around those I consider “elitist-stick-in-the-ass” types. Still, I try to upgrade my low rent mentality and make the socialization thing work. It doesn’t see to be reciprocal, though.

Some people are cool, they’re there to have  a good time and they’ll talk to you even if you have purple skin and a unicorn horn.

Others sit there with that fake ass smile while their expression indicates talking to you is about as pleasant as having dog poop stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

Truth be told, I can’t be arsed with any of it. I don’t want to be bothered with it. Because I am ok with who I am and I really don’t need validation from people who are looking down on me. I wish, truly wish, this were all in my head. An inferiority complex run amok. Time after time I am proven right, though.

The affect this has all had on my mood is not optimal. But on the plus side, I haven’t had any drastic crashes, either, so maybe the magical med combo is doing its thing.

Paxil doesn’t do shit for anxiety for me, I don’t give a fuck what the propaganda says. So the bipolar and depression are manageable and now the anxiety disorder is metastasizing. Lovely.

I need a coffin.

That’s where embalmed people belong.

Just leave the lock open. I may want to come out and torture myself more with socialization one day.

Mental masochist, I am.


One Response to “Socially embalmed”

  1. imptiness Says:

    Room in that coffin for two?… And perhaps a freezer filled with straw-ber-rita?

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