As a foundation of our fictitious relationship I should probably fill you in on at least the main topic of this Blog, my mental illness... such an icky pair of words. I don't have that cute, you hold me down when I throw a tantrum then I fuck you silly with gratitude kind of mental illness, although that could be preferable at times. Mental illness is never quite as neat and clean as they depict it on TV or in movies, or fuck even in the media. Cynicism is my life partner and we are quite happy being irritated at everyone else's expression of what we suffer with. Just remember that whatever they tell you on TV or in the movies is never as dramatic as you would imagine. It's often long periods of mind numbing suffering while waiting for this or that to be over or some drug to take affect. Quite frankly it's a miserable process that would make a sane person want to commit suicide, let alone a suicidal person...hmmm.
A brief overview of my diagnosis, schozoaffective disorder, sounds quite like two horrible mental illness had awkward drunken sex in the back of an escort(hope you are old enough to know what this is) and this is the three headed, two dicked, one tittied offspring. Well it's not quite that bad. It's actually a spectrum disorder, kind of like Asperger's only Bi-polar and schizophrenia are your goal posts, fucking YAY! Fun shit, right? Well on top of that let's throw in the newest and most guarded diagnosis that I have received...drum roll...yeah not that exciting, it's Dissociative Identity Disorder. Most are thinking WTF?! and the rest are like Oh! United States of Tara, yeah, well, sort of, no. Again take away the fucking drama, they need drama llama season. The whole D.I.D. thing pisses me off on so many levels it's not funny, but fuck everything in life pisses me off.
Things will be spelled out, maybe, depending greatly on what mood I am in, either way welcome to me KingKoKo chaos rider extraordinaire... more along the lines of another lazy bastard preaching to the empty electrons of existence.