The title says it all.
I don't even know why. I don't lie over major stuff, not usually. Psych eval is an exception. Last time I went there the bitch just wanted to have me eat a fistful of pills on a daily basis because clearly, what I need is even more meds. If I don't take the meds, I don't pass. If I don't pass, I don't get to the next stage in the whole neurosurgery quest.
I'm already taking antidepressants, even if not intentionally. Supposedly, my anticonvulsants are also given as antidepressants to some people. I'd really like to see who thought "hey, what if we give potentially seizure-inducing 'medicine' to the clinically depressed and see how that works out!"
Sure, they won't be as depressed as before, now they also have the potential for seizures to deal with. They'll be depressed and terrified.
I don't understand, though, I never lie about major shit, just minor, insignificant things.
Here's an example: yesterday I went to this "guitar picnic" thing. It was a gathering for people who are learning to play guitar and take a fairly expensive course for it. People who never heard of this course are also welcome. I met a guy who I swear is a reincarnation of Elvis Presley. He has the voice, looks like a 55-year-old Elvis and, of course, a guitar pro. I asked to borrow his guitar because my own is a piece of shit that cost me like 15$. You can't seriously expect a 15$ piece of shit to sounds like a 1000$ Ibanez. "Elvis" then produced a harmonica, presumably out of his ass, and we jammed together for a bit. Me, on his 2000$ guitar, him, on a presumably equally expensive harmonica. Felt good. Haven't had any chord problems, didn't go too fast or too slow, never felt so pro in my life. That's a pretty big event. For me, at least. Didn't lie about meeting and jamming with "Elvis."
No, instead I lied about some shit involving bread. Woke up today and realized I hate myself immensely over it.
At some point, I'll probably lie to someone here too. It'll be small, it'll be insignificant and meaningless, and I'll hate myself over it. I don't know how to stop. I don't know what makes me do it. It doesn't even feel good, just imagine the google translate lady saying "lol" in your head.
I'm a fucking liar. Small liar, if it helps, but still a liar. All that shit piles up, just one of presumably thousands of reasons to hate myself.
I don't even know why. I don't lie over major stuff, not usually. Psych eval is an exception. Last time I went there the bitch just wanted to have me eat a fistful of pills on a daily basis because clearly, what I need is even more meds. If I don't take the meds, I don't pass. If I don't pass, I don't get to the next stage in the whole neurosurgery quest.
I'm already taking antidepressants, even if not intentionally. Supposedly, my anticonvulsants are also given as antidepressants to some people. I'd really like to see who thought "hey, what if we give potentially seizure-inducing 'medicine' to the clinically depressed and see how that works out!"
Sure, they won't be as depressed as before, now they also have the potential for seizures to deal with. They'll be depressed and terrified.
I don't understand, though, I never lie about major shit, just minor, insignificant things.
Here's an example: yesterday I went to this "guitar picnic" thing. It was a gathering for people who are learning to play guitar and take a fairly expensive course for it. People who never heard of this course are also welcome. I met a guy who I swear is a reincarnation of Elvis Presley. He has the voice, looks like a 55-year-old Elvis and, of course, a guitar pro. I asked to borrow his guitar because my own is a piece of shit that cost me like 15$. You can't seriously expect a 15$ piece of shit to sounds like a 1000$ Ibanez. "Elvis" then produced a harmonica, presumably out of his ass, and we jammed together for a bit. Me, on his 2000$ guitar, him, on a presumably equally expensive harmonica. Felt good. Haven't had any chord problems, didn't go too fast or too slow, never felt so pro in my life. That's a pretty big event. For me, at least. Didn't lie about meeting and jamming with "Elvis."
No, instead I lied about some shit involving bread. Woke up today and realized I hate myself immensely over it.
At some point, I'll probably lie to someone here too. It'll be small, it'll be insignificant and meaningless, and I'll hate myself over it. I don't know how to stop. I don't know what makes me do it. It doesn't even feel good, just imagine the google translate lady saying "lol" in your head.
I'm a fucking liar. Small liar, if it helps, but still a liar. All that shit piles up, just one of presumably thousands of reasons to hate myself.
