I've been undergoing a swarm of inner torment recently, the kind that sticks with you in the night. I feel like I am losing control of myself; I actually had the balls to curse at my father a few days ago, and I was promptly reprimanded for it. I feel that I am becoming a monster, devoid of empathy for those that I interpret as doing any sort of harm to me. The reason I cursed at my father was because he scoffed at me for not noticing that the bookbag containing the stuff necessary for me to do my homework was just behind the passenger seat. I lash out at people for saying the slightest things, like asking me obvious questions. My physical appearance echoes that of Boris Karloff from Frankenstein. Got that dead face, too.
Getting upset over things that don't seem right to us is natural Aspie response, but I take it to extremes. This has resulted in my arguments being idiotic and one-sided, troll-worthy. Still can't stop thinking about the book I'm writing. And Molly. Sometimes, I feel inferior to her. If you don't know who I'm talking about, search my username and Molly. About that book... I think I'm making it overly complex, yet at the same time I don't want it to be simplistic. That's my fear. It's my nightmare. I've considered taking a break from that and writing something that can soothe my anger, anxiety and conflict. My life is turning into a Hitchcockian thriller, like my writing.
I just need to disappear, give myself some time. I might be back next month, or January. Long enough to think things through.
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Yes, I'm still alive.