I'm Not Crazy

~32~ What is normal?

Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem to find myself again
Crawling in my skin these wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall...confusing what is real.

Crawling ~ Linkin Park

👽👽👽

After blowing out the scented candle, I say farewell to the bloody girl in the mirror. Rolling back out into bed and pull the covers over my head. But thanks in no small part to my stupid fairy dream self, there is no way in hell I am going back to sleep again. Mostly for fear of what she might make do to myself next.

So if I am being honest, which apparently I am doing now thanks to therapy? I think I am still a little afraid of myself in the dark. That I will get sucked right back into that bullshit under the Moonlight fucking fairy fantasy again. With hot Highlander Pirate Billy, with his stupid-cute lip scar and his manly kilt-wearing ways. That maybe I might like it in there just a little too much, that I won't come back to my reality again.

So instead of getting lost in Wonderland again with my Magic Hand, I fire up the old laptop and start checking my sites. I find two new emails, both announcing graduations from my old school pre-D-Day. Sent by former family friends on base, who must still have me listed in school groups. One message even thoughtfully attached a photo of my old class graduation.

I don't really recognize half of the kids in the picture from two years ago when I knew some of them. So I am guessing there's been another round of redeployments back on base. The few kids that I can sort of recognize, look a lot older than I remember them being in my memories. Some girls have grown out their hair, others have cuts that are stylishly shorter. Some muscles have sprouted on the boys, whose first names I can't seem to recall. Some boobs bloomed on some girls that I was friendly with, but not really friends.

I close my old email account and switch over into my Facebook account. Only to find that I have a couple of those obligatory "Congrats Samantha! Way to go!" posts. All of which are messages from Grandma Go Go's side of the familial spectrum. So I'm assuming that none of these people know anything about my meltdown? Otherwise their messages would be a little less enthusiastic and a little more "Hope you get well soon'ish".

So I acknowledge all their posts with a simple, "Thank you so much! Looking forward to a great summer!!!" Not because I believe this to be true, by any means? Insomuch as I feel obligated to respond to them for even remembering who I am without my father around.

With that out of the way, I begin to do what I really came here for. Namely find some answers to the burning questions banging around in my brain. So I start by running a quick search on the potential causes of homicidal rampage rage in adolescent boys. Only to find out something that I probably should have obviously known already. That after the onset of puberty, pretty much everything causes rage in teenage boys on some level or other.

Whether it's the impact of their testosterone hormones on their not yet fully formed boy brains. Or Tommy's "he just really needs to get laid" life philosophy. The more sex less violence, if women ruled the world theory. I mean, sure if women ruled the world there would probably be a lot less World Wars between super-powers. I think because that Bitch'pocalypse would require way too much cooperation. However, I think there would be a whole lot more constant low-intensity regional conflicts for sure.

"Oh my DOG, did you see what the bitch China was wearing!?! OMD, what a stupid skank. And don't even get me started on that little slut, North Korea. Starving yourself to death much there N-Kay? Didnt you get the memo, anorexia is like so 1990's?" Or at least that's what it would sound like in my Bitch'pocalypse version of World War III.