I wanted to be a player just to see what it’s like (?), but I’m a relationship type of person. Despite the promiscuous mistakes that I’ve made in my past, the intentions were always good-natured and weren’t to harm anyone in the process. *rolls eyes* ANYWAY. Have you ever heard of Tinder? It’s this dating app you can download on your phone. You have to link your Facebook account so that it can gain access to your photos, your name and age. That’s all. They can’t see anything else. From there, the app pools you into people that are in a certain mile radius off of you and then match you up with a person that likes you too. For example, you see a profile you like, you swipe his picture to the right and if he swiped on you, too, then the app notifies you that you’re a match. It goes, “YOU ARE A PERFECT MATCH!” Oh goody. Then from there, you guys can chat. Well, at that time, I didn’t know this app was a “hook up” thing. I was bored one time and thought, why not. I just wanted to see what kind of people were on there, and I started collecting photos of guys holding fish. It got ridiculous. It’s like… WHO CARES?! You caught a fucking fish! Whoopitty-dooh-dah-DAY!! Unless it’s fillet on my plate, ima keep swiping left on your ass!
And then there was my first date. He was laid back, chill, but his energy was way too calm. I’m high-powered-energy; always on the go, go, go, go, GO!! Most especially now since my NP (nurse practitioner) jacked up my anti-depressants. I keep telling her that I’m borderline hypomanic! But she says that this is good for me. “You said you were hallucinating these past couple of weeks, right?” “*sigh*… fine.” Plus, why should I complain? It’s making me hella’ productive. Go, go, go, go GOOOO!! So, this guy, right, we meet at a really cute dive bar. I pull my phone out and text him, “Where are you?” And he says he’s at a booth somewhere. I just slide right across from him and grinned super wide and said “HI!” but he was so mellow, I had to take a deep breath and get to his energy level. ANYWAY… fast forward to my point: he disagrees with medication. Actually, he HATES MEDICATION. Listen, I feel the same way, okay? If we could have it OUR WAY, for ALL OF US, who would want to take medication? But, can we help it? If you really don’t think medication is right for you, then don’t! If you can handle symptoms without it, then don’t let anybody stop you and I agree with this guy and anyone else. I don’t judge anybody on how they feel about medication but FOR ME? FOR MYSELF? MY LIFE? I NEED THEM. And I’m okay with that. If I had a choice, I would rather not take them, and for a moment, I stopped taking my meds for 3 days straight in the morning and I was all kinds of anxious. So, you pick. Fist full of pills? Or, daycare at a residential treatment center forever? The only reason why I didn’t like this guy afterwards is because he was all talk, talk, talk, talk and no walk. I told him that I took Prozac and then he went off on his soapbox and said, “SEE?! This is why I want to take up Pharmaeuticals! It’s because I don’t want people taking stuff like that because it’s bad for you!” But HEY, listen.. check this out.. and then I go to visit his place. Shit, where’d I put that photo. He’s got a bunch of shit on his coffee table. Not going to mention exactly what kind of shit, but then he asks me if we go clubbing, if I wanted to drop acid, take mushrooms, pop ecstasy, and then smoke weed. I’m over the weed thing. I’m actually pro-MJ, but it’s not for me… not anymore. But, the hypocrite had the nerve to say, “I don’t want to miss an experience something amazing with you.” What? So, you disagree with something, under close observation with professionals of prescription but you’re all in for self-medicating? LAME. Blow me, dude. Blow me.
I don’t know how else to explain myself. My writing is so bad and I blame it all on myself and my boyfriend. Haha.. yeah, because we are always texting and we short cut everything. So, now, I’m starting to text him in paragraph form. Geez, I have a fucking long way to go… it’s okay. I’m here for me. A hobby. And, to talk story. It’s fun, you know?
So this Tinder date, on our last date was at Home Depot (his drug addict ass wanted to get soil for his tiny ass junky garden) and I wanted him to push me on the big ass orange cart and he wasn’t really into it. Right then I knew he wasn’t someone I wanted to be in a relationship with. Lol Hahah… and his damn those striped fucking knee-high socks and wife beater!!! What the FUCK was he thinking? No… WAIT. What the FUCK WAS *I* THINKING? I’m crazy, but NOT THAT KIND OF CRAZY. Hahahah…. Ayyyyy… you gotta have a sense of humor, man… *shakes head* 🙂 Anyway… Sigh… I just can’t type under 1000 words or up to JUST 500… it’s too short. I’m trying… but my goal is to write every day for 31 days. Then, I gotta change up the goals and intensify this shit. I’m going to go ahead and enjoy my tea session now and read… got my holiday jazz station on, candles flickering, tea awaiting, fat fluffy cat napping next to me and I’m good to go.
And, yeah, I’m pro-medication. If it was so bad for me… then why am I up and doing all these amazing things in my life? Just a little bit of meds. Not a lot. Just some and the rest is spirit.
And remembarrrrr…. Don’t react… go beyOOOOonnnnd… and RIIIISE.
WORD COUNT: 1 fucking THOUSAND wardz.. meh