I'm feeling pretty fuckin' good today. I woke up feeling refreshed and generally happy. Wandered around scratching my balls and singing away to myself. Don't know what the fuck is wrong with me! HA!
I've been reading back on some of the shit I've written, incidentally I noticed a few spelling mistakes. That's because I just write all this shit down and post it. I don't really know what I've written after I've posted it. I think that it's important not to try and censor what I write, otherwise what's the fucking point? There are some things that I've written that I've read back and thought, FUCK, I shouldn't have written that. But fuckit... This isn't about anyone else. This is about me. I try and write this the same way I live my life. I try and be pretty transparent and open to everyone, if I've got something to say, or there's something I'm not happy with then generally I'll say it. Often I fuck it up and make the point I want to make, but do it in the wrong way and upset people. I don't like that, I'm not in the business of upsetting people. And generally I feel like a cunt for days afterwards, like I said, not for *what* I've said but more for the *way* I said it. I think I'm always right, so how can I be sorry for *what* I have to say? If I didn't think I was right I wouldn't fuckin' say it!
I've always had that feeling in me of feeling like a cunt after doing things even though I think I done the right thing. I remember at school there was a boy called Neil something, can't fuckin' mind his surname. But he was a wee prick. And I kicked his cunt in. As soon as I landed the first punch I felt so sorry for him, and as I punched and kicked him it got worse. Don't get me wrong, the wee cunt deserved it. And yet I felt like a cunt!? WTF is that all about?
My glasses should arrive today, hopefully that should see off these headaches. I also made an appointment at the doctors this morning. Monday at 10:30. I don't fuckin' get it. The reception woman asked me what was wrong... Is she the fuckin doctor? Why do I need to tell her? Then I need to tell the doctor as well. Not to mention the fact that everyone in the reception would know I was a fuckin mentalist. I almost told her that I had a Gerbil stuck up my arse (like Larry David), but opted to just say that I had these headaches. Why the fuck do I need to explain to her anyway? Did she do 7 years at receptionist school to try and diagnose what was wrong with me before we get to the doctor? Fkn ridiculous... So now I need to go into the doctor who thinks he's seeing someone with headaches. How do I then drop into the conversation that actually, the headaches are alright, and it's the fact that I have some mental health issues that are why I'm there. I guess it's the right general area, sore head/not right in the head - only semantics surely?
Anyway, we'll see how it goes. I hope he's a good cunt. I'd rather see a woman in all honesty. If this guy plays silly buggers I think I might kick his fuckin head in. I dunno why, maybe it's a Freudian thing, I want to speak to a woman cos I want to shag my ma'. He was a fuckin loon that cunt. I just think that a guy doctor will just say "whit's the matter wi' ye. Pull yersel thegither ya fuckin' maddy." Then where do I go from there? I'm fucked then.
Fuckin hell, I've already sorted out what's going to happen before I've even gone there, before ye know it I'll have decided there's no point in going and I'd be aswell going and getting pished.
But I won't. I'll do this shit. I'll get better. I'll train myself to have a happier default setting. If I could do that then we're sorted. Not like one of these super happy all the time "Have a nice day" cunts. Just not feeling shite, that's all. Is that too much to ask? Some kind of plateau where I can just coast along. Sometimes feel down cos that fuckin' fitba team are shite, sometimes feel good cos we win. Sometimes feel down cos a burd knocked me back, sometimes feel good cos I woke up in a strange bed with a looker next to me. Is *that* too much to ask? Feel shite cos Scotland lose to some shitey bunch of farmers and school teachers, feel good cos we qualify for a tournament? Fuck....that *is* too much to ask.
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