Scaramouche, Scaramouche

Dear pharmaceutical company,

BITE ME SO VERY VERY FUCKING HARD FOR DISCONTINUING THE ALL-IN-ONE VITAMIN PILLS I WAS TAKING.

Boom fucking shanka,
-the crabby little woman in the red sweater.

Now I have to fuck about with more damned pills, and before anyone tells me to cry moar, I already am taking more than twenty per day to manage this condition alone. Yes, you fucking heard me. CF is a pain in the ass*. XD

Uuurrhhhgh. I know this is small potatoes compared to some things but it's just so bloody damned annoying.

One of the inhaled meds I use being in somewhat limited supply bugs me, too.

People NEED these things, okay? And there are more and more of us who need them, now, because more and more of us are living longer and longer. That's not going to fucking change, except for the better FOR US. So, yeah, supplier. Step it the fuck up so St. Mike's has what it needs for all of us.

So, yeah, bite my ass, manufacturers. I know this is small shit comparatively but it's also yet another reminder of how arbitrary shit is, about how ambivalent drug companies can be about patients and about the fact that it's going to be a while yet before I am 'normal' and all of me works the way it should ought to.

Bleh.

I'll be okay. I'm just cranky right now XD

*Don't worry about me overmuch for this; I'm in really good health and determined to stay that way, and my stubborn-assedness makes mules look wishy-washy. I'm more than okay. XD

Best way to get me from zero to phoenix backhand in half a second?

Condescend to me.

Seriously. I'm not your child, your student, your acolyte or some kind of naive little puffball whose life has been and continues to be effortless - yea, verily, a a medley of extemporanea! - so let's just shove the headpatting, slow-talking, cooing bullshit back up our noses where it came from, shall we?

That shit grates on me like nothing else, fucking hell.

Maybe I'm small, maybe I am easily amused and easily made happy, MAYBE I'M NOT YOU SO MY LIFE CAN'T POSSIBLY BE REAL AND MY EXPERIENCES VALID OR SOME SHIT, but I'm really, REALLY not going to put up with that any more. I'm luckier than many, but that doesn't mean my problems aren't real or that life is this pastel-coloured strawberry-flavoured idyll, for fuck's sakes almighty. Are you stupid? Get someone else to be the little daughter when you play house. This fucking bitch is through.

I put up with it until now but the part of me that thought she deserved it is dead and gone. You don't have her to toy with and fuck around any more. How about that? Gonna cry?

Things are gonna be a little fucking bit different now.

The next person to talk to me as if I am a particularly stupid baby is going to be told to knock that shit off and stop talking to me until they possess the fucking spine necessary to relate to me as another adult. I am not obligated to confine myself to the little box you put me in, cowards. If it scares you so god damned much to have to relate to me as an equal, TOO FUCKING BAD.

Cry more, and don't expect me to share my kleenex. My sinuses are beating up my nose again and I need that shit.

Would the DEPRESSION JUST VACATE ME ALREADY.

I'm really tired of this.

Also, the next arrogant, contemptible worm to call me a child, or treat me as if I were one, is going to bear the full brunt of my cruelty.

(Spare me the 'but you're acting like one' puling. If I were acting like one I'd have abandoned my empathy and verb-flayed you to a little pile of whining mess by now. Swagger in the opposite direction from me.)

I haven't been a child for a long time.

Spare me. Go and DIE. You pathetic swaggering peacock's gigolo. You have NO IDEA WHO I AM. You know only the heap of broken images and stupid assumptions that form 'me' in your limited vapid mind. Get thee hence before I beat you down with my damn sponge mop.

I'm not here to be an ego booster for the wounded who never had to claw their way through recovery pretty much alone. I'm not interested in being the whipping girl for cowards who close ranks and think it's okay to do that to me because someone else did that to them. I'm not going to let people who want a life with no consequences, with all perks and no work, with no FIGHTING act like Im somehow their ineferior because they never saw anything bad happen to me so it can't have, fuck you Ikari wannabe.

I am not what the ignorant think of me.

And I really wish the horrible abdominal cramps would get lost. D:

Urgh urgh urgh quarterly checkup tomorrow I don't wanna do it.

In re: this:

I'm not sure why people made it into a social game on LJ anyhow, it seems to me to be fundamentally childish/naive/something like that to have done so. For one, there's different levels of friendship. I do consider some people I've met online to be close friends; I've been dinged for that, but it wasn't as a result of them adding me to their flist on LJ or me adding back and expecting instant closeness - more it was because people I trusted after a considerable amount of time knowing them turning out to be fussy little babies, or wankers, or plain abusive when I didn't remain confined to the little pocket role they assigned me in their lives.

(I don't do niches, babies.)

I've had people think I owe them comments and play stupid little tit for tat grudge games as a result. (Look, if I'm not commenting as often as you want me to, it's not fucking personal, you fucking touchy little whiny whoring BABY. Okay? I just can't think of anything to say. SOME OF YOU, on the other hand, are known for holding shit hostage for comments/reviews, throwing fucking tantrums, and stompity stomping and SWEARING at me when you don't get the replies you think you're entitled to. I know what the fucking silent treatment looks like, child. Fucking grow UP.)

I've had people think they have every right to comment on my life, and very personal aspects of it, because I put them on my friends filter. (See: the attention whoring diphead woman who wanted to lecture me about how much ass sex she had and demand I write to her tastes; the stupid douche who decided out of the blue that she had every right to talk to me and act like she was my domme (because she tended toward toppiness and I played a lot of pushy bottom characters and had discussed interest in bondage as a kink) and DEMAND personal details about my health and sex life and bawwwwwww for ages about how she had a 'very unhealthy fantasy life' with passive-aggressive hints that I was worse.)

tl;dr people think they have a right to fuck with me as they like because they threw me a few treats and because I called them a friend.

Thus, I think I have a much less OPTIMISTIC notion of what the term "friend" connotes.

People reeeeeeally liked to call me their friend and think I owed them being a verbal firing range target in return. Add that onto the dim little kids who tied to use the term 'best friend' like a fishing lure to make people jump at their back and call and - yeah.

Ah, fucked-up relationships. How they leave us with twitchy, twitchy brains. :D

This isn't about anyone who can see it, obviously. Call me a wimp for that if you like, but then consider that I learn FAST and think about all the fuckers I've learned FROM and you'll see why I'm afraid of losing my temper and verbshanking fools.

((Yeah this is - me and one of the boys in concert. He doesn't have my issues but neither of us like ignorant liars with agendas, so he's out. :B Also: I am a jerk in this entry, and profane, so if you're not in the mood, you're not gonna wanna read this!))

Authors, if you're going to be writing about any psychiatric medication, be it SSRI, NDRI, stimulant, or otherwise?

Do your research.

Don't just rely on scarequote bullshit and dumb photomanips of newspaper comic strips.

I'm very tired of agenda pushers who have no idea about shit on a stick preaching from on high about how all drugs is bad and all I need to do is cheer up and focus.

You know what, you abysmally ignorant whelps, you sons and daughters of mongrel whores?

I am better now that I have my medication.

I am no longer suicidal. I am no longer losing gaps of time because I lost my temper so badly that everything clicked off. I no longer hate myself so badly that I want to stop being.

I can focus. I have been able to relearn how to think - yeah, meds alone didn't work for me. Cognitive therapy plus meds? Yeah. That.

( and further rarring in chorus! )

(I need to snarl at things, so if you don't want to read it, it stop reading after this sentence.)

Know what?

You're the thunderingly stupid fuckaroos who decided that i was nothing more that a tweedly little thingiee who couldn't possibly have talent or a brain. (To the point where some of you cocks DEMANDED MY FUCKING CREDENTIALS IN AN INTERNET DEBATE AND THEN ACCUSED ME OF PUTTING ON AIRS WHEN I GAVE THEM, FOR FUCK'S SAKES, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THAT MAKES YOU LOOK, good christ choke on a dildo and survive but live mortified afterward.)

It's not my fucking fault you were so content to wrap yourself in delusion for to guard your pweshus pweshus fee fees that the truth DID YOU THOROUGHLY UP THE ANUS WITH A PILE DRIVER AND A CABER.

It's not my fault I am not, and never WAS, what you thought I should be.

Next time don't listen to fucking little fake gurus. You stupid, stupid bastards. You wanted me to stay in the tiny little box you made for me forever?

Well, fuck you hard.

You can go on playing house in your little coffin forever. I'm not wearing the widdle daughter costume for your insecure entitled ass any more.

I am fuckin' out of there.
Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU.