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January 19, 2019

I used to be paranoid that bad stuff happened to me because I didn’t have enough divine protection but then I realized that I was busy whining about how people mistreat me and if I don’t stand up for myself it is on me. You want justice? You bring it to yourself. The Gods don’t give up on me because I try daily to improve my life. They are the ones who told me I needed medication in the first place. The gods would kick me to the curb if I ever became medication inconsistent. That is a bridge I’m never going to cross, Cylons.

Cylons are what I call my improperly treated or those who skip treatment “friends,” who became toxic to me because I had to dump them. The Gods demand many things from me, including making an effort to make more money, to completely buck the unemployment dole. A work from home job will suit me very well. I don’t commute anyway. The thought of commuting scares me. But then again when I apply for jobs, I deal with so many rejections that I get depressed as to my educational and job related state of affairs.

At least occupational therapy gives me an excuse to go to San Jose State. These days I have a zero tolerance policy for “friends” who are irresponsible about their mental health. These “friends” have a habit of pissing me off when they skip their meds. Some people can’t take being confronted on it. Staying stable involves taking your medication every day. I can’t make it to a friend of mine’s funeral tonight but that’s me being mature and responsible knowing I can’t go out at night after the service. I need to stay home as I do not want to impose. So I bow out gracefully. The gods appreciate my responsibility. One way to serve them is to take my medication consistently. I can’t be around people who aren’t on medication to control their wild-childness. Stay away from me. Thanks.

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