It may have occurred to you by now that even if my head isn't missing any screws, there's definitely a couple loose.
To which I interject that I am perfectly sane for a given value of sanity.
That being said. I grew up in an environment where mental illness was very, very common place. A large proportion of women I've known were molested (not by me), there's lots of bipolar and anxiety issues going around, and just generally I've dealt with a higher incidence of mental illness.
From this, I've developed a certain set of skills, a set of skills that make me a nightmare for people like you....
I have a remarkable talent to dealing with the mental breakdowns of others.
Obviously the occasional freakout is a luxury I could never afford, mainly because I was busy duct taping the sanity of various other people around me just so I could live in some semblance of normalcy. Hell, I'm even good with skitzos, and NOBODY is good with skitzos.
Which gives rise to my problem:
Once a crazy lady finds out I can "fix" her, ie, apply my advanced level ghetto pimping skillz, she won't leave me alone.
Like, for a decade.
As in, co-dependent broads need me like people in jail need bail.
Worse yet, the older I get, the more these psycho broads learn to home in on my "talent" for keeping them from killing themselves. If I hit it off with a girl, it's a 99.99% she'll call me while having a breakdown.
Howfuck do you even fix this? Most of these chicks are actually hot, but they can't keep a decent boyfriend because who wants to live with a nut? Nobody.
This is the worst goddamn superpower ever.
This is a song about death. It's on mandolin.
Hate is the first step to all solutions.
You will not end bigotry until you learn to hate it.
