Today’s words: Asylum, iPod, Night, Showcase
Word count: 821
Completion time: 50 minutes
Summary: Ron had no idea how to initiate a friendship, so how was he going to start a relationship with someone he’d never spoken to before?
--
Every lunch or break time that Ron had between lessons would be spent watching Brandon. What were people saying to him? How was he reacting? What kind of things made him laugh? He wanted to make him laugh...but he was no good at jokes, and he didn’t understand why the things that people were saying to him were funny either.
It felt like he was looking through glass walls at everyone but they couldn’t see him because he lived in a different world. People thought he was strange, but to be honest, he thought that everyone else had recently been released from an asylum. His wires weren’t connected differently, theirs were. Everyone else was so...different, even Brandon. So why did he intrigue him so much? Maybe it was because he wore an Adventure Time t-shirt once, or that he’s good on a BMX, or maybe because he makes his own lunches from scratch. He was only sixteen, how could he cook so well?
Every break time, Ron would turn on his iPod, put some soft jazz on and just observe. He found out pretty quickly that people don’t really talk to you if you’ve got your earphones in, even if no music is playing, but jazz made him feel at ease so that would usually be playing. It felt good to live in his own head, but Ron desperately wanted to make friends...but how did people do that?
At night before bed, he would stand in front of his bedroom mirror and initiate conversations with himself. He said a few things, imagined how Brandon would react, and beamed at his reflection before letting it fall into an irritated frown. It took Ron another year before he admitted his true feelings – he wanted to get together with Brandon.
“How can I make this happen if I can’t even talk to him?”
Ron thought about romance movies: usually people flirt a little even if they’re not proper friends, they ask them on a date, then they kiss. It sounded pretty basic, but he may as well have been trying to figure out the meaning of life.
The following week at college...
“I like your top.” Ron began the first conversation he ever had with Brandon. “It’s...nice.”
He smiled and looked down at the t-shirt he was wearing. “Thank you...? Hey, have we met before, or...?”
“No. Well, we go to the same college, but, we haven’t spoken yet. I’m Ron.”
Brandon tilted his head. “...Brandon.” Ron held his hand out and Brandon took it, shaking it gently. “So what’s up? How can I help you?”
“Help...” he silently pondered the question. There were several ways that Brandon could help him, so it was lucky that he asked. “You could go on a date with me, that would help me out. Only if you want to.”
Brandon opened his mouth to speak but didn’t know how to word it. “Um...is this a joke?”
“No. Why, was it funny?” he looked at him expectantly but couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.
“It’s ‘Ron’, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Listen Ron,” he leaned down and put his mouth close to Ron’s ear. “I don’t know how you found out, but I am not cool with a showcase of my sexuality hanging in every corridor of this institution. As far as you know, I’m not into guys, I’ll never be into guys, I date girls, do you understand? I don’t like guys. At all.” He stood upright again and smiled. “Are we clear?”
“Not really. Found out what? Are you straight? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know how to tell you...I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“Like I said, as far as you know, I’m straight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Fucking hell!” Brandon sighed, pushing past Ron. “Stay away from me, don’t talk to me again.”
Ron stood in the same spot for several minutes, trying to decipher what had happened and failing.
He was used to being on the sidelines, but that was usually by choice, not because someone said to stay away. Was it possible to stay even further away than he had before?
People would always moan about unrequited love but he had no idea that it would hurt as much as it did. What made it worse was that he couldn’t wrap his head around what he had said to offend Brandon. It was as if everything he said had a 95% chance of being laced with poison. Was it wise to open his mouth at all?
From then on, any time he saw Brandon, he immediately turned his head and raised the volume of the music to drown everything out: Brandon’s face, Brandon’s words, and his feelings that refused to ease their grip on his chest every time he took a breath.
He was poisonous, a danger to society...maybe he was the one who should be locked away from everyone else, not them.
Showing posts with label mental health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental health. Show all posts
Thursday, 3 April 2014
Thursday, 27 March 2014
#100 - Noah
Today’s words: Purchase, Classy, Grey, Comfortable
Word count: 1,343
Completion: An hour and a half...ish
Summary: A boy on the autism spectrum decides to withdraw from everyone due to fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, until he reaches his late 20s and concludes that he needs to make a change
--
1 in 100 people have an autism spectrum disorder (which Asperger’s is included in), so if you’d like to find out more about autism or Asperger’s, please do your research.
To write this, I watched a film (‘Adam’, made in 2009, very good), spoke to two people with Asperger’s, and looked at this website: http://www.autism.org.uk/About-autism/Autism-and-Asperger-syndrome-an-introduction/What-is-Asperger-syndrome.aspx, but I am not even close to being a reliable resource for autism.
--
Based on a true story...
“I had a really good time tonight, Noah.”
“I had a good time too. So...I’ll see you on Monday.” Noah turned to leave, putting both hands in his jacket pocket.
Becky raised her eyebrows and held a hand out. “Where are you going?”
He turned back to face her with a smile. “...Home. The night’s over, right?”
“Yeah but, don’t you want to say anything?”
He twisted his mouth and tried to think of something to say. “Like what?”
A few seconds passed before she stuttered: “...Noah, do you like me?”
What a weird question, he thought. “Of course I like you, you’re my friend.”
“Your friend?” Particular emphasis on the word ‘friend’.
“Yeah...”
She looked down and wiped her eyes with the back of one hand.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”
“I...I just thought you liked me.”
“I do like you!” He didn’t know what else he could say to get the point across.
“You know what I mean,” she said, storming off and leaving Noah standing outside the cinema.
He didn’t. To Noah, the word ‘like’ only meant one thing – ‘like’. He enjoyed Becky’s company, she was nice, funny, and she didn’t make fun of him: that meant that he liked her, didn’t it? What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know. He never knew what should or shouldn’t be said.
The following week, he realised that what he said had made her feel bad when two of her friends came up to him during lunchtime.
“Hey, Noah!” One of Becky’s friends, Rachel, waltzed up to the bench that he was sitting on, followed by another girl that he thought was called Lorna.
“Hi, Rachel.”
“What have you said to Becky?” Rachel put her hand on the wall behind him and lifted one leg onto the bench, staring at him over the rims of her glasses.
“Nothing, I haven’t seen her today,” Noah said as he continued to eat his sandwich.
“I mean the other night, on your date, what did you say to her?”
“Date?” It was supposed to be a date?
“You said you liked her,” Lorna spoke up before she knocked his lunchbox from his lap.
He stared at the food scattered on the ground and then back up at Lorna. “Lorna, I do like her.”
“Then why did she ring me in tears saying that you turned her down?”
“Turn her down? How? I said I liked her.” It was just like the other night – people didn’t seem to understand the word ‘like’.
“You can’t say that you like a girl and then say that you just want to be friends.” Rachel this time.
Now that really didn’t make sense to Noah. “Friends like each other, right? You girls, you both like each other because you’re friends.”
“Don’t try to be funny with us, Noah.”
“I’m not? Look, maybe there’s a misunderstanding or--”
“You damn right there is.”
Rachel forced him forward by his collar and slammed the back of his head into the brick wall twice whilst Lorna kicked him in the shins and grabbed his hair.
“You don’t play with girls’ feelings like that!”
After a while, a teacher came to break it up.
That wasn’t the first time he’d had miscommunications with people that upset them, nor the first time that he was bullied, whether it was due to those miscommunications or not.
It felt like any time he opened his mouth to speak, he’d end up offending someone or causing an argument or a fight. He came to the conclusion at fifteen that he felt a lot more comfortable keeping his mouth shut altogether, then no-one could have a go at him. Turns out, though, that staying silent when people want you to talk can also cause agitation. He couldn’t win and knowing that he couldn’t win, he got depressed and his once colourful life turned completely grey.
He dropped out of school, never went to college, and went away with no GCSEs or any qualifications that employers would be interested in. It didn’t matter; even if he was qualified for jobs, he was sure that he wouldn’t even make it past the interview stage. How was he supposed to greet them? What was he supposed to talk about? Did he smile? Was that right or too friendly? What was a right balance between classy and casual? How would he get a job if even people from school didn’t accept him for who he was? How would people ever understand that he couldn’t help it, that he had Asperger’s syndrome?
Noah became incredibly isolated from everyone, even his parents, until eventually he didn’t leave the house for three years. Not to see friends, purchase new clothes, buy groceries, nothing. He wouldn’t touch his front door, let alone open it for anyone. He felt like the only one who understood him was right there, so why did he need to leave? Why did he need to open himself up for more abuse, more scrutiny, more misunderstandings? Sure, it would be easy to say try, but he did try, he’d been trying to figure things out his whole life but all it got him was black eyes, broken teeth, and severed friendships.
Never again, he thought, never again would he open himself up to anyone. That’s what he thought – that he would always have himself and no-one else for company, and that’s the way he’d force himself to like it.
He still used his computer but rarely to speak to people, just to do some personal research and watch a few TV shows or movies. One Sunday evening, he came across the TV show The X Files and decided to check it out, being a fan of most things sci-fi. In nine months, he had watched all 202 episodes (nine series) and movies. As the last series drew to a close, he felt something stir within him that he couldn’t identify; something about the characters and the way that they acted moved him.
The credits rolled and when they were done, he opened Word and started typing out a screenplay. He didn’t know what it was about, where it was going, or how to even structure a screenplay but he wrote and wrote for a week until he’d finished 70 pages. Afterwards, he stared at the screen and cried for hours.
When he was done, he felt like a new man.
How could something like a fictional TV show be enough to help him? He didn’t know, but it did. Once his tears were all gone, he phoned his parents to tell them what had happened and decided to restart his life the day after.
It wasn’t easy – he’d been without social interaction for three years and he’d felt depressed longer than he’d been physically isolated. He had lived with Asperger’s since he was a child, but maybe it was easier to get a better grip on being depressed, he thought, since that was partly what made him remove himself from peoples’ company. Yes, he was still depressed, but he felt like a weight had been lifted ever since The X Files was completed.
He was on the road to recovery.
Noah stepped outside for the first time in years. It didn’t feel right, but he kept on walking to the closest corner shop, keeping his head down and making sure not to hang around for too long.
Day one – success.
After day fifty-two, he felt almost like himself again.
The next year, he attempted and passed his driving test, and started an Access course so that he could go to university. He was in his late 20’s but who cared? He was doing something with his life, something that he’d always wanted but was too scared to do before, and it felt great.
He might not always understand what people are thinking, and he is still struggling with being depressed some days, but he’s glad that he managed to climb out of that hole and take control of his life.
Word count: 1,343
Completion: An hour and a half...ish
Summary: A boy on the autism spectrum decides to withdraw from everyone due to fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, until he reaches his late 20s and concludes that he needs to make a change
--
1 in 100 people have an autism spectrum disorder (which Asperger’s is included in), so if you’d like to find out more about autism or Asperger’s, please do your research.
To write this, I watched a film (‘Adam’, made in 2009, very good), spoke to two people with Asperger’s, and looked at this website: http://www.autism.org.uk/About-autism/Autism-and-Asperger-syndrome-an-introduction/What-is-Asperger-syndrome.aspx, but I am not even close to being a reliable resource for autism.
--
Based on a true story...
“I had a really good time tonight, Noah.”
“I had a good time too. So...I’ll see you on Monday.” Noah turned to leave, putting both hands in his jacket pocket.
Becky raised her eyebrows and held a hand out. “Where are you going?”
He turned back to face her with a smile. “...Home. The night’s over, right?”
“Yeah but, don’t you want to say anything?”
He twisted his mouth and tried to think of something to say. “Like what?”
A few seconds passed before she stuttered: “...Noah, do you like me?”
What a weird question, he thought. “Of course I like you, you’re my friend.”
“Your friend?” Particular emphasis on the word ‘friend’.
“Yeah...”
She looked down and wiped her eyes with the back of one hand.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”
“I...I just thought you liked me.”
“I do like you!” He didn’t know what else he could say to get the point across.
“You know what I mean,” she said, storming off and leaving Noah standing outside the cinema.
He didn’t. To Noah, the word ‘like’ only meant one thing – ‘like’. He enjoyed Becky’s company, she was nice, funny, and she didn’t make fun of him: that meant that he liked her, didn’t it? What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know. He never knew what should or shouldn’t be said.
The following week, he realised that what he said had made her feel bad when two of her friends came up to him during lunchtime.
“Hey, Noah!” One of Becky’s friends, Rachel, waltzed up to the bench that he was sitting on, followed by another girl that he thought was called Lorna.
“Hi, Rachel.”
“What have you said to Becky?” Rachel put her hand on the wall behind him and lifted one leg onto the bench, staring at him over the rims of her glasses.
“Nothing, I haven’t seen her today,” Noah said as he continued to eat his sandwich.
“I mean the other night, on your date, what did you say to her?”
“Date?” It was supposed to be a date?
“You said you liked her,” Lorna spoke up before she knocked his lunchbox from his lap.
He stared at the food scattered on the ground and then back up at Lorna. “Lorna, I do like her.”
“Then why did she ring me in tears saying that you turned her down?”
“Turn her down? How? I said I liked her.” It was just like the other night – people didn’t seem to understand the word ‘like’.
“You can’t say that you like a girl and then say that you just want to be friends.” Rachel this time.
Now that really didn’t make sense to Noah. “Friends like each other, right? You girls, you both like each other because you’re friends.”
“Don’t try to be funny with us, Noah.”
“I’m not? Look, maybe there’s a misunderstanding or--”
“You damn right there is.”
Rachel forced him forward by his collar and slammed the back of his head into the brick wall twice whilst Lorna kicked him in the shins and grabbed his hair.
“You don’t play with girls’ feelings like that!”
After a while, a teacher came to break it up.
That wasn’t the first time he’d had miscommunications with people that upset them, nor the first time that he was bullied, whether it was due to those miscommunications or not.
It felt like any time he opened his mouth to speak, he’d end up offending someone or causing an argument or a fight. He came to the conclusion at fifteen that he felt a lot more comfortable keeping his mouth shut altogether, then no-one could have a go at him. Turns out, though, that staying silent when people want you to talk can also cause agitation. He couldn’t win and knowing that he couldn’t win, he got depressed and his once colourful life turned completely grey.
He dropped out of school, never went to college, and went away with no GCSEs or any qualifications that employers would be interested in. It didn’t matter; even if he was qualified for jobs, he was sure that he wouldn’t even make it past the interview stage. How was he supposed to greet them? What was he supposed to talk about? Did he smile? Was that right or too friendly? What was a right balance between classy and casual? How would he get a job if even people from school didn’t accept him for who he was? How would people ever understand that he couldn’t help it, that he had Asperger’s syndrome?
Noah became incredibly isolated from everyone, even his parents, until eventually he didn’t leave the house for three years. Not to see friends, purchase new clothes, buy groceries, nothing. He wouldn’t touch his front door, let alone open it for anyone. He felt like the only one who understood him was right there, so why did he need to leave? Why did he need to open himself up for more abuse, more scrutiny, more misunderstandings? Sure, it would be easy to say try, but he did try, he’d been trying to figure things out his whole life but all it got him was black eyes, broken teeth, and severed friendships.
Never again, he thought, never again would he open himself up to anyone. That’s what he thought – that he would always have himself and no-one else for company, and that’s the way he’d force himself to like it.
He still used his computer but rarely to speak to people, just to do some personal research and watch a few TV shows or movies. One Sunday evening, he came across the TV show The X Files and decided to check it out, being a fan of most things sci-fi. In nine months, he had watched all 202 episodes (nine series) and movies. As the last series drew to a close, he felt something stir within him that he couldn’t identify; something about the characters and the way that they acted moved him.
The credits rolled and when they were done, he opened Word and started typing out a screenplay. He didn’t know what it was about, where it was going, or how to even structure a screenplay but he wrote and wrote for a week until he’d finished 70 pages. Afterwards, he stared at the screen and cried for hours.
When he was done, he felt like a new man.
How could something like a fictional TV show be enough to help him? He didn’t know, but it did. Once his tears were all gone, he phoned his parents to tell them what had happened and decided to restart his life the day after.
It wasn’t easy – he’d been without social interaction for three years and he’d felt depressed longer than he’d been physically isolated. He had lived with Asperger’s since he was a child, but maybe it was easier to get a better grip on being depressed, he thought, since that was partly what made him remove himself from peoples’ company. Yes, he was still depressed, but he felt like a weight had been lifted ever since The X Files was completed.
He was on the road to recovery.
Noah stepped outside for the first time in years. It didn’t feel right, but he kept on walking to the closest corner shop, keeping his head down and making sure not to hang around for too long.
Day one – success.
After day fifty-two, he felt almost like himself again.
The next year, he attempted and passed his driving test, and started an Access course so that he could go to university. He was in his late 20’s but who cared? He was doing something with his life, something that he’d always wanted but was too scared to do before, and it felt great.
He might not always understand what people are thinking, and he is still struggling with being depressed some days, but he’s glad that he managed to climb out of that hole and take control of his life.
Wednesday, 5 February 2014
#83 - Not Human After All
Today’s words: Iron, Zap, Panoramic, Aggressive
Word count: 337
Completion time: 43 minutes
Summary: It’s easy to pretend to be something you’re not, but what if you genuinely feel that you’re something you’re not?
I only just discovered the term 'lycanthropy' (belief that you are or are transforming into another animal) the other day and I'm 100% sure that it isn't like this in the slightest, and it may come across as slightly patronising, but my brain wasn't doing anything for my creativity tonight.
--
My favourite game to play as a child was always ‘Cats and Dogs’, something that me and my siblings made up; two of us would act like cats, and one would act like a dog. The one acting like a dog would usually chase the other two on all fours, barking as the cats meowed and tried to fight back. It was essentially play-fighting with an animal element, and it often got pretty aggressive. I didn’t know what it was like to be the dog – I was always one of the cats. I didn’t see anything out of place about acting like an animal and I assumed that other kids felt the same, but that wasn’t the case.
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes you feel like an animal, right? I’ve seen you act like a monkey before, climbing trees and eating bananas.”
“I was pretending.”
“You don’t ever feel like a real monkey?”
“I’m a person, not a monkey.”
It felt like a sharp zap had hit my brain, like when a child sees their father dressed in a red suit, helping himself to cookies, milk, and a carrot that was supposed to be for Rudolph. I was forced to see a panoramic view of the world that had always been restricted by blinkers.
Other people acted like animals for fun, not because they genuinely felt like that animal. Others didn’t feel fur where there was none, wiggle a phantom tail, or twitch ears that were further up the head than normal.
Sometimes I would feel like a human being, but most of the time I felt like a cat, regularly getting on all fours, turning my head to lick my shoulder, and rubbing against peoples’ legs demanding to be stroked. Such behaviour is commonplace for a child, but when you proclaim your feline status as an adult, it’s not so easy for people to accept; it’s like trying to shout at people through an iron wall, they just can’t hear you...no matter how loud you meow.
Word count: 337
Completion time: 43 minutes
Summary: It’s easy to pretend to be something you’re not, but what if you genuinely feel that you’re something you’re not?
I only just discovered the term 'lycanthropy' (belief that you are or are transforming into another animal) the other day and I'm 100% sure that it isn't like this in the slightest, and it may come across as slightly patronising, but my brain wasn't doing anything for my creativity tonight.
--
My favourite game to play as a child was always ‘Cats and Dogs’, something that me and my siblings made up; two of us would act like cats, and one would act like a dog. The one acting like a dog would usually chase the other two on all fours, barking as the cats meowed and tried to fight back. It was essentially play-fighting with an animal element, and it often got pretty aggressive. I didn’t know what it was like to be the dog – I was always one of the cats. I didn’t see anything out of place about acting like an animal and I assumed that other kids felt the same, but that wasn’t the case.
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes you feel like an animal, right? I’ve seen you act like a monkey before, climbing trees and eating bananas.”
“I was pretending.”
“You don’t ever feel like a real monkey?”
“I’m a person, not a monkey.”
It felt like a sharp zap had hit my brain, like when a child sees their father dressed in a red suit, helping himself to cookies, milk, and a carrot that was supposed to be for Rudolph. I was forced to see a panoramic view of the world that had always been restricted by blinkers.
Other people acted like animals for fun, not because they genuinely felt like that animal. Others didn’t feel fur where there was none, wiggle a phantom tail, or twitch ears that were further up the head than normal.
Sometimes I would feel like a human being, but most of the time I felt like a cat, regularly getting on all fours, turning my head to lick my shoulder, and rubbing against peoples’ legs demanding to be stroked. Such behaviour is commonplace for a child, but when you proclaim your feline status as an adult, it’s not so easy for people to accept; it’s like trying to shout at people through an iron wall, they just can’t hear you...no matter how loud you meow.
Monday, 3 February 2014
#82 - Fraternal Psychopath
Today’s words: Waste, Division, Budget, Adjust
Word count: 477
Completion time: 56 minutes
Summary: What makes a psychopath?
Read more about what traits psychopaths usually have and what a psychopath actually is here, it's a lot more detailed!
--
He makes more money than should be allowed, could get out of any situation by turning on his charm, and he knows what a ‘budget cut’ entails. He helped with the division of labour in his workplace, saved the same company from bankruptcy, and he lived in a house that looked like it had been built by a zealous architect on The Sims 3.
He's 25-years-old.
I used to be jealous of teenagers who had been published, children who could draw better than most adults, actors and actresses who had starred in ten movies before the age of eighteen. Randall was on another level. What makes it worse was this – he’s my twin brother (he even came out of the womb first); I used to joke that he stole all of the good genes from me in utero, but that line soon turned accusatory, especially when I was annoyed with him.
He didn’t understand why I’d get annoyed because he doesn’t understand jealousy, he says that it’s ‘an excuse weaker people use to get sympathy.’ I get called things like ‘cretin’, ‘waste of space’, and am regularly told that I’ll ‘never amount to anything’. What makes these insults cut deeper is the fact that he doesn’t show any signs of remorse when I get upset and he never apologises unless I or someone else tells, no, demands it. He understands when he’s done something wrong, he just doesn’t think that he should have to apologise for it.
“It’s her fault that she got offended by it, I shouldn’t have to say anything.”
I used to think that he was just rude for the sake of it, but turns out he’s a psychopath.
He hasn’t hacked a prostitute to pieces or beaten someone to death with a smile, but he has several traits that justify the term ‘psychopath’: he doesn’t feel much guilt, he finds it hard to empathise, he’s selfish, and manipulative on such a large scale that I find it hard to tell when he’s being sincere. A few years ago, I discovered he told a lie so damaging that it could have ruined someone’s life and he didn’t flinch once; he grinned as if I was the guilty one.
Another example is his ability to adjust himself to different situations when he wants something out of it. Say that he and another person are considered for a pay rise, he will do or say anything to take the other person down, regardless of how ‘wrong’ or ‘immoral’. Nothing too sketchy, I mean charming the boss or threatening to blackmail the competition in secret.
Many people assume that psychopaths go crazy without much provocation or turn in serial killers, but that isn’t always true.
It’s likely that at least one person you know is a psychopath, mine just happens to be a lot closer than most.
Word count: 477
Completion time: 56 minutes
Summary: What makes a psychopath?
Read more about what traits psychopaths usually have and what a psychopath actually is here, it's a lot more detailed!
--
He makes more money than should be allowed, could get out of any situation by turning on his charm, and he knows what a ‘budget cut’ entails. He helped with the division of labour in his workplace, saved the same company from bankruptcy, and he lived in a house that looked like it had been built by a zealous architect on The Sims 3.
He's 25-years-old.
I used to be jealous of teenagers who had been published, children who could draw better than most adults, actors and actresses who had starred in ten movies before the age of eighteen. Randall was on another level. What makes it worse was this – he’s my twin brother (he even came out of the womb first); I used to joke that he stole all of the good genes from me in utero, but that line soon turned accusatory, especially when I was annoyed with him.
He didn’t understand why I’d get annoyed because he doesn’t understand jealousy, he says that it’s ‘an excuse weaker people use to get sympathy.’ I get called things like ‘cretin’, ‘waste of space’, and am regularly told that I’ll ‘never amount to anything’. What makes these insults cut deeper is the fact that he doesn’t show any signs of remorse when I get upset and he never apologises unless I or someone else tells, no, demands it. He understands when he’s done something wrong, he just doesn’t think that he should have to apologise for it.
“It’s her fault that she got offended by it, I shouldn’t have to say anything.”
I used to think that he was just rude for the sake of it, but turns out he’s a psychopath.
He hasn’t hacked a prostitute to pieces or beaten someone to death with a smile, but he has several traits that justify the term ‘psychopath’: he doesn’t feel much guilt, he finds it hard to empathise, he’s selfish, and manipulative on such a large scale that I find it hard to tell when he’s being sincere. A few years ago, I discovered he told a lie so damaging that it could have ruined someone’s life and he didn’t flinch once; he grinned as if I was the guilty one.
Another example is his ability to adjust himself to different situations when he wants something out of it. Say that he and another person are considered for a pay rise, he will do or say anything to take the other person down, regardless of how ‘wrong’ or ‘immoral’. Nothing too sketchy, I mean charming the boss or threatening to blackmail the competition in secret.
Many people assume that psychopaths go crazy without much provocation or turn in serial killers, but that isn’t always true.
It’s likely that at least one person you know is a psychopath, mine just happens to be a lot closer than most.
Saturday, 1 February 2014
#81 - "I'm Depressed"
Today’s words: Farm, Crisps, Garden, Noun
Word count: 373
Completion time: 1 hour 1 minute
Summary: a lot of people trivialize mental
illness, especially ‘popular’ ones like depression and social anxiety, so this
goes out to people who are sick of people claiming to be sick when they’re clearly
just having normal reactions to everyday situations
--
“I have depression,” you say, finishing your crisps as you look me in the eye
It’s no surprise, right? You’ve not smiled once since
sunrise.
“Why do you think that?”
“I’m really sad.”
Okay, that’s a fact...
I won’t deny that you’re sad, that much is true
But that’s because Drew broke up with you...
Your last date was at a farm, a small place
outside of town
And when the day was done, the relationship was
too
You cried
Of course you did
You cried like you’d forgotten how to laugh and
Fell onto the path, asking him ‘why’
He said your name like a common noun and stated
“We’re just too different, we never should have
dated.”
And just like that, you guys were separated
“I might go to the doctor; I think I’m a hazard to
myself.”
It’s nice that you’re looking out for your health
But being sad after a traumatic experience
Is nothing that serious
“Give it a few days, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I have it: I’ve read about
it.”
You know when people sneeze and think they have
the flu?
That’s what this is. It’s a normal reaction, I’m
telling you!
I’d be concerned if you weren’t feeling blue!
“Look, I know you’re a mess, and I get that, I do
“But claiming it’s a mental illness? That’s really
not cool.”
“I didn’t eat for half a day yesterday, what does
that tell you?”
“That you lost your appetite (you fool)!”
Throw me the tastiest line, I still won’t bite
It’s been two
nights since he dumped you
Don’t trivialize a mental issue whenever it suits
you
Like the latest fashion trend that you’ll spend
Hundreds on just to look cool in front of friends
I have this and
I have that
You say it like you want to be depressed
Like you want to spend days in bed, missing work
Realising that life has lots its perks
Like you want to feel a relentless darkness
That lasts for days and days
Like a permanent eclipse
Why would you want that?
Who would ever wish for that?
Why can’t you see that your ‘depression’
Is a just normal kind of ‘sad’?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)