That sucky feeling...
Is it just me? Am I just abnormally insensitive to __________?
Well, I know I am insensitive to _______ and ___________, hell, I am insensitive to a lot of things "normal" people are sensitive towards, but __________________? It's things like this that make me worry that my insensitivity to ____________, __________, or even ____________ is causing me to miss out on life. It makes me feel that I am inhuman, that I am missing out on the human experience. The thought of it fills me with deep sorrow and dread.
All day long I have had a terrible feeling that I had forgotten to do something horrific to someone. I have had doubts over whether I had really forgotten or was just procrastinating.
I hate deja vu, I hate premonitions, I HATE HAVING MY DREAMS COME TRUE! There is no possible way these events are periodic and predictable. How can it be that I predicted the actions of a guy I never knew existed?
Occasionally I have these really short, really stupid dreams that would be unremarkable except for the fact that there is some stupid depressed feeling (exactly like I feel now) attached to it and they are about something completely mundane. My HU-MAN brain, doing what any HU-MAN brain would do, stores these dreams as repressed memories, even though there is nothing traumatic or exciting about them except for those strong emotions attached to them. Those emotions are like library cards that keep track of utterly insignificant books. Then ta-da! a certain dream or prediction or whatever the hell they are comes true and I start feeling sick.
I guess there's a part of me violently opposed to fate and destiny, and those emotions and the sick feeling that come when one of these utterly insignificant premonitions comes true is that part of me vomiting over my brain.
But come on, Tommy, lets be logical! Who knows how many of these "premonitions" you have stored in your memory, waiting to jump out and shake its horrid face at you when one of them happens to come true? Who knows the rate that these memories are created? It stands to reason that since you don't know how many of these predictions you have made (you don't even know that a particular prediction exists until it comes true!), you can't know what percentage of these predictions come true! My feeling is that you have millions, billions of these little monsters running around in a secluded portion of your brain, and how many have come true?
Five? Your accuracy rate isn't that great, then, my friend. You might as well make volumes ands volumes of wild guesses about the future.
You speak true and your reasoning greatly comforts me. Notice though, that since I do not know how many of my predictions are false, my accuracy could be anywhere from 0 to 100%. However, I am greatly compelled to believe as you do; that these predictions are made at a great rate so that my accuracy approaches 0 very very quickly. Its just that these instances cause me to fear the number is actually 100.
Indeed.
Damn triple whammy today. Talking myself through that last one seemed to lift my spirits a great deal though. I love how schizo I am; there is always some part of me that is sane and rational. I mentor myself. Haha.
Well, I know I am insensitive to _______ and ___________, hell, I am insensitive to a lot of things "normal" people are sensitive towards, but __________________? It's things like this that make me worry that my insensitivity to ____________, __________, or even ____________ is causing me to miss out on life. It makes me feel that I am inhuman, that I am missing out on the human experience. The thought of it fills me with deep sorrow and dread.
All day long I have had a terrible feeling that I had forgotten to do something horrific to someone. I have had doubts over whether I had really forgotten or was just procrastinating.
I hate deja vu, I hate premonitions, I HATE HAVING MY DREAMS COME TRUE! There is no possible way these events are periodic and predictable. How can it be that I predicted the actions of a guy I never knew existed?
Occasionally I have these really short, really stupid dreams that would be unremarkable except for the fact that there is some stupid depressed feeling (exactly like I feel now) attached to it and they are about something completely mundane. My HU-MAN brain, doing what any HU-MAN brain would do, stores these dreams as repressed memories, even though there is nothing traumatic or exciting about them except for those strong emotions attached to them. Those emotions are like library cards that keep track of utterly insignificant books. Then ta-da! a certain dream or prediction or whatever the hell they are comes true and I start feeling sick.
I guess there's a part of me violently opposed to fate and destiny, and those emotions and the sick feeling that come when one of these utterly insignificant premonitions comes true is that part of me vomiting over my brain.
But come on, Tommy, lets be logical! Who knows how many of these "premonitions" you have stored in your memory, waiting to jump out and shake its horrid face at you when one of them happens to come true? Who knows the rate that these memories are created? It stands to reason that since you don't know how many of these predictions you have made (you don't even know that a particular prediction exists until it comes true!), you can't know what percentage of these predictions come true! My feeling is that you have millions, billions of these little monsters running around in a secluded portion of your brain, and how many have come true?
Five? Your accuracy rate isn't that great, then, my friend. You might as well make volumes ands volumes of wild guesses about the future.
You speak true and your reasoning greatly comforts me. Notice though, that since I do not know how many of my predictions are false, my accuracy could be anywhere from 0 to 100%. However, I am greatly compelled to believe as you do; that these predictions are made at a great rate so that my accuracy approaches 0 very very quickly. Its just that these instances cause me to fear the number is actually 100.
Indeed.
Damn triple whammy today. Talking myself through that last one seemed to lift my spirits a great deal though. I love how schizo I am; there is always some part of me that is sane and rational. I mentor myself. Haha.