Dear Neuroses…

Surprise! Long time no hear, I know. But don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about you guys. (I should be so lucky…)

I took some time off to do other shit. Work and stuff. You know how it goes. But it’s not like you bastards disappeared. (I should be so lucky…)

Tourette’s, it’s been a sticky summer already. Not sweltering, just sticky. And sure as shit, you’ve been hanging around. I thought we had a deal. I guess not. For the record, it’s only hot when you tear the sheets off a girl’s bed because of your amazing tiger sexin’ prowess, NOT because your shoulder’s doing some sort of weird dying chicken seizure and she just wants you to fucking lie still for a minute. We’ve got beef, Tourette’s.

OCD, I have to admit, you’ve been more laid back than I thought you’d be. Still, you keep popping up everywhere. I may have added olives and a couple other things to my repertoire, but my diet still belongs in a Nickelodeon cartoon. And I’m finding it hard to get work done because I keep fearing (and trying to skirt) imperfections. Fuck that noise. We’ve got beef, OCD.

Speaking of work, ADHD, you’re really getting on my nerves. I keep thinking I’ve trapped you, only to realize that the very process of trapping you has managed to distract me from what I’m supposed to be doing, which means, of course, that you’re not trapped at all. Also, my irritability levels have skyrocketed. I blame you. And coffee, sometimes. Mostly you, though. I don’t drink that much coffee. You know it’s true. We’ve got beef, ADHD.

As for you, Depression and GAD… Just knowing you fuckers are lurking somewhere in the background is enough to make me want to punch kittens some days. That’s an evil state of being. Nobody should be punching kittens. You’re making me evil. (Well, more evil.) That’s bullshit. I’m already as evil as I’d like to be, thanks. So yeah, we’ve got beef.

I’ll be back soon, believe me. I’ve got all sorts of fun things to tell all you morons. I also have more than a month’s worth of pent-up rage to vent, so get ready for sexy fun happy times! (I should be so lucky…)

(Not.)

Beefingly yours,
Bezuidenthustra

Dear Depression…

I’ve got to give it to you: you’re really good at making me notice the dreariest bits of the day. I guess that’s some sort of skill.

Joke’s on you, though. I’m finding them amusing! That’s right, Depression. You thought you’re pissing in my cereal, but really, you’re just dishing up tasty, unspoiled bowls of Froot Loops.

It’s spring right now. You know, that time of year when Canadians get ready to pretend like they have a summer. It’s usually around this time of year that people can find me shaking my fist angrily at all kinds of inane shit. Basically, after so much winter, I’m just fed up. That’s understandable, but the ranting and raving, Depression, that’s often your doing.

Most people see promise and potential in spring. I, on the other hand, tend to see a lot of shit that just ain’t happenin’ as fast as it should, goddammit, and what the fuck is this rain doing still hanging around?! You know how people talk about finding the silver lining in things? Well, I tend to find the brown lining.

Dear Depression…

You are such a pansy!

Just a whiff of sunshine and you go yapping off like a Yorkie with a fistula. I didn’t hear a peep from you the entire month I was in South Africa, and here you try to come creeping back in the gloomy drizzle of Vancouver.

Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You lost. Game over. See, if you had real balls you would’ve stuck around while I cavorted about my homeland making an ass of myself and watching my grandpa say goodbye to the land he loved for 82 years. If you had true cajones you would’ve forced me to bow my head and contemplate the dreariness of my existence right under the nose of that burning ball of gas irradiating my face. Spat in its eye even as it hung there all mighty and proud, turning my features into a golden crisp.