Tick...Tick...Tick

Ok, so those close to me know I'm a moody motherfucker with a volcanic temper. Due partly to my illness and partly to my innate feral personality, I take happy meds to keep me from training to be a sniper and going on killing sprees. Why, these days I even tolerate being told what to do and how to do it (in special and rare circumstances)without a single twitch.

However, this whole week--Valentine's Day notwithstanding--I've been on a slow burn. Vague disgruntledness and petty griping grew to teeth gnashing and increased Tourette's-style swearing. Here I'd like to point out that, while it isn't unreasonable to imagine, I actually had nothing to do with the fire in our apartment building yesterday.

Please don't think for a moment Superfly's at fault: he's not and, in fact, he keeps me from going apeshit, without even trying or even knowing it. Yay Superfly!

This morning,--or rather, this afternoon (I took a sleeping pill to prevent all-night plotting)--I awoke in an especially foul mood. Idiotic things like the pug losing at Westminster, or constantly losing at mah jong online, pushed me ever closer to the edge. My mouth hurts from frowning and I'm getting wrinkles for sure from the eyebrow-smooshing. This sucks.

Worse, nothing that usually cheers me up is working. My dear friends Mr. & Mrs. F are having a baby tomorrow. My friends LB and Rackie are in love, finally. I had apple butter on my toast. meh.

Along comes an email from this complete and utter psychopath, whom I've already blocked but who wrote from another email, and sends me an absolutely incendiary email. Long story, short: rich friend loans broke friend some money. Broke friend loses job and goes on Disability. Rich friend and broke friend get into a petty online disagreement. Rich friend turns on broke friend, harassing and making absurd demands, even though broke friend is paying rich friend back, albeit slowly. As soon as this debt, which I definitely appreciated and intend to honor, is repaid, I will go back to not knowing this person exists. I hear she bashes me on her blog, but really, you can't make me care. I don't read her blog for the same reason I don't read the Koran: not interested in the blatherings of crazy people.

Aside from this buffoonery with me, the same nutjob terrorizes all her "friends" and anyone else who crosses her path. We all knew girls like this in jr. high school, but I guess I thought even they grew out of it, eventually. Sadly, Ms. Straightjacket has no real-life friends and is estranged from her family. She is only a threat to people to who take her seriously, but I still feel bad for her.

I've been in psychiatric facilities a couple of times, because there are no proper facilities for mood and anxiety disorders--they just lump us in with the schizophrenics, depressives, and substance abusers. One of the things you do while a guest there, aside from balloon volleyball and yoga, is learn about mental illness.

My crazy loanshark stalker is, as far as I can tell, a narcissistic sociopath.

I'll be glad when this feral mood passes. Maybe the next one will be a Disco mood! They're my favorite.