I look like that Babadook character.
Sigh. I wish I weren't mentally ill. Unstable. Off my rocker. Outta my gourd. A nut-burger.
Yes, I'm not so crazy that I don't realize I'm off my rocker, at least in part. And that I'm in a sort of weird war with the world around me. And at nearly 50. Phew.
Thankfully, Dear God, it hasn't turned into anything really bad. But the situations that I continually get into are bizarre -- although I do remember what the ONLY good psychiatrist I ever had (a Jungian) said that I would forever live my life recreating the drama externally from my childhood.
Ironically, I had a good day at work and made a promising start regarding the change in contracting companies.
Yes, it deluged again (another 0.86" at KDCA). And was super-humid. All it does these days is rain. It's like living in the Amazon or the Congo Basin.
Anyway, at least I'm home safe and sound … I think … and have a few more hours to sleep and live in that weird dream multiverse. I also had a nice chat with "Kelvin" -- the fellow with Bank of America to report my lost/stolen credit card.
I'm visiting my mom this weekend. Of course, she know I'm off my rocker.
Henceforth, though, in my weird and said D.C. life, other than going to work or the gym, I'm just going to hide in my little apartment.
Good morning. And good night.