Sometimes in my life things become too much. That’s when I call my psychiatrist.

What becomes too much? The internet, Television, Music, Electronics, People, Words.

The word Trigger triggers me when I am running high on sensory overload. Smells become too strong. People who don’t know each other become to blend and what they say seems like they are trying to see if I am OK by pushing me. They know what gets me because they have seen it before.

People’s behaviors change. They are too happy and what they say and do and think feels like they are emulating me. But not the me I think the world sees, but the inside me. The child who acts before thought. The child who is rambunctious and silly.

I have only felt it before. I have never seen it before. What have they seen? My breakdowns. Why do I ask so many questions through my writing? So I know where my thought needs to go. So I feel like I am making sense. Sense is another trigger.

What do you mean? I mean when people ask what I mean yet in my head what I said made sense to me it scares me that it might not be that way at all.

I forget what I have told people and if I trusted them enough to tell them something I find very intimate about myself, God help them. They have now become a ticking time bomb of a trigger. They bring it up and if I am in a mood that is closing itself off from people and they ask me about it, I think “What the hell are they talking about?” or “Why would they think that?” or “They are confusing me with somebody else” and then if it clicks it triggers because what I may have felt when I confided in them has changed.

I live my life in extremes, when I am in it. When I don’t have the need to be away from it. I try my damnedest to see the gray in life. To not be so rigid that if that person did something bad to conclude they must be a bad person. They will always be bad until they leave this world.

I see black and white. If you do something that I find is hurtful to me. You’re bad and I will pick over every little thing that has happened between us and the ugly things dominate more than the good you ever did therefore it validates my reasoning. I’m right, you’re wrong and you don’t deserve my forgiveness. I cannot forgive.

Then I feel bad after a while. I miss you. What if I was wrong? What if those things that happened are normal and natural and part of being human? I am being too harsh. I am bad for thinking those things. I am bad for feeling that way. I write you and apologize. And then I am scared of how you will react.

If you forgive me, you redeem yourself. Just that quick. What you did to me wasn’t bad. What I thought of you was bad. I am bad, but you can fix it because you forgiving me means I have some redeeming quality. Why would anyone want to be around a bad person?

Miss Flighty confronted Ivan. I was told Ivan seemed actually remorseful. She was vindicated. I hear people confronting criminals in court and telling those criminals how what they did harmed them or their families. They don’t have justice, but they have vindication. What they said was at least heard by the offender.

No one believes me. I will never have that opportunity to face the offender and I will never be vindicated.

I was at the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong things and didn’t stop him so obviously I am bad. My story is not true. I wanted him to violate me. I deserved it. I am a Madonna. I am a seductress. I tempted him. He’s a young man, what was I to expect?

I was like those skank ass bitches who wanted it. I wanted it and then I felt ashamed so I put all my blame to him. He’s a bad guy. A predator.

I’m just a little whore, how dare I try to say he did these things unwarranted.

Click for credit. Artist: Deimaus Title: Whore of Babylon

I am a crazy bitch. I am sick in the head. It’s obvious because my dad was an alcoholic and was away a lot of the time, I have daddy issues and was looking for a man to make me feel valid. At the age of 14.

I am Bipolar who can slip in and out of psychosis. The way I remember things are obviously wrong. I made it up. I made up everything. I am not who I say I am. I watched too many Lifetime movies. I listen to too much music. I am confusing what’s real with what’s not real.

Imaginary; Fake; False; Lies; Truth; Real; Unreal; That’s not how it happened; I wasn’t told that; That’s not what he/she said; Why do you think that way?; What’s wrong with you?; Exaggerated; Unbelievable; Inconceivable.

Fuck you.