I Wish I Could Get Amnesia, Disappear, And End Up Somewhere No One Knows Me.

How many hats could the Sorting Hat sort, if the Sorting Hat could sort hats?

All these posts about depression and breaking down crying seem so foreign to me. When I break down, I could be mistaken as a pre-Joker Joker. Is that abnormal even by depression standards? Maybe when squared, depression becomes insanity...

Most apt picture I've seen so far.

You all know this. 

The more you know

I saw the term "fuckboy" for the first time today. Not directed at me (I have a strange aversion to women. Only reason I even met my last ex was through a coworker). Anyway, it seems I really missed the harbour for the ship from the land of retarded dirtbags. Part of me wonders if this was a latent characteristic in too large a percentage of men who just didn't have the proper outlet for their useless douchebaggery, or if social media/pop culture/etc. have, in part, spawned a new race of... Ick? Is that a good way to describe it? I'd say slimers, but that'd be kind of insulting to the Ghostbusters character. I've already admitted I made a lot of stupid mistakes in the couple relationships I had, but... damn... I hate one ex with what I'd hope is enough ferver to cause nuclear fusion, but I don't see how that should make me entitled to anything. Is this what it's come to, though? Some sense of entitlement solely because you're a male? Some girl didn't treat you right (or like you wanted)? CALL THE FUCKING WAAAAAHMBULANCE. Treat a woman how she wants to be treated. Is that such an arduous task? Yeah, Tinder and dating sites have a pretty good volume of people wanting sex. Does that mean EVERYONE on there is immediately, desperately, helplessly in such dire need for sexual contact they should all be subjected to... Ick? (I like the suspense from ellipses. It's like "Legen- -dary" It's a good buildup) I can feel my brain almost overheating trying to figure out just... Why? It's almost as difficult for me to fathom why there are so many money-obsessed fuckers in the world when a 30¢ bullet can make that money not mean shit anymore. Or as maddening as the totality of the universe, our complete lack of knowledge or thirst for exploration, and how utterly insignificant and useless we are (especially compared to a 30¢ bullet that can at least change something in the immediate area). I feel the gears siezing at the notion some guys think they're so integral to the operation of the planet, their dicks/looks/money/whatever are cause for any and every woman they want to strip down and fuck wherever they happen to be. I'm not religious. I hate religion for what it is and tends to do to many people. But, one thing that nearly every religion in existence has ever had in common is what most people call "the golden rule." I don't know why such a purely basic concept requires a gilded name (probably some bullshit about gold being worth something as currency), but is it that fucking hard to not be a fuck-shit stack? When did that concept devolve into "I show u mah dik u suld send nuds"? (My brain nearly hemorrhaged typing that) I'm trying to figure out what would happen if law enforcement and the justice system got their heads out of their asses and actually allocated time and funds to taking online sexual harassment and assault seriously. I think some fuckers would find themselves out their precious smartphone they use to prey on other women. See how fucking awesome they are with a flip phone and a name that is legally forbidden from online dating. (A fake name wouldn't work out in the long run) You know, maybe there should be a push for that. Banishment from social media as a legal function, not some shit to be ignored by moderators and businesses. There's got to be money enough in there somewhere for someone to run with it. I, for one, do not have that kind of money. Or, really, not much money in general. Food is too tasty for money. Money sounds most unpleasant as a meal or snack. Or drink. Goldschlager may be an exception; though, I cannot recall ever having it before. Where was I? Oh, yeah! JUST FUCKING CUT THE SHIT, YOU FUCK-SHIT STACKS. You have as much right to assault women's vision and emotions, as I have to assault your eyes with metal filings. No, those two are far more similar than you think. I'm not some dumbass white knight, some hero wannabe, some super-nice and sensitive guy women would be lucky to have. I'm neither conceited nor delusional. Learned from my mistakes. I might never be in a relationship again, never have sex again, whatever. At least I can say I'll have gone without being an utter fuckwit to any random woman who is connected via physical proximity or cyberspace.

My favorite episode of SpongeBob was on today at my medical building. I didn't get to watch it because I had to be an adult for all the Boots in the room who were intently staring directly ahead despite no orders to do so. But, one day they will realize it's okay to be more than a statue in public settings.

Depression is a war. 

It's all just a dream.

Someone needs to write a story about the Headless Horseman as an undead superhero who always forgets he's missing his head. He'll keep trying to head butt people or whistle for his horse, only to remember that he doesn't have a head. It'd start off with him writing a book about the inconvenience of being headless and follow his misadventures on his quest to find out where it went. All the while, he's battling people who want to take over the world or steal his head. He'll have great, heroic monologues in sign language that only get translated when someone else or the villain happen to know sign language. He also has to hide from everyday people because of the stigma created by the events in the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which he swears (in sign language) to the authorities are terribly misinterpreted. People try to re-kill him, exorcise him, and capture him, etc. Demons and other undead try to take him back to the underworld. Aliens and super villains keep trying to destroy the planet. All he wants is to find his head and be able to enjoy a beer or two at the bar down the street from his apartment.