Much eye-rolling

[brightlotusmoon]

Well, then. That was the second time someone contacted me and said, "I read your blog and I'm worried because you sound so crazy. It's no big deal if some stranger died. It doesn't affect you. Why are you so sad?"
And I truly don't think that my answer of "It's my blog; I'm venting my thoughts. It's nothing you haven't seen before." was placating.
Like... um. Hi. Have you met me? I'm verbose. I'm also mentally ill. Between verbosity and illness, I love to ramble on about life, mind, the universe. To read something I write and automatically conclude that I am "high levels of crazy" is insulting. Thanks, readers. I love you too.
It's basically the same attitude as "Well, maybe Autism Speaks wants to eradicate autistic brains and never bothers to actually help with services for autistic people, but have they hurt you, personally? Why do you fight against them? They're probably doing good things."
It makes my brain hurt. So much. Mainly because ignorance up the ass.

No, I'm not making my journal friends-only. I'm happy to show, publicly, that I know what people think. And that I know how irritating they can be. And how very little they know about who I am. Sucks to be them.
But yeah, I talk about mental illness and how deeply that sort of thing affects me. I use words that might not appear "rational" or "worldly" or "down to earth."
I'm skeptical to a degree, but I'm about thisclose to moving away from the skeptic movement entirely. It's full of assholes.

Comments

[kita0610.livejournal.com]

Wait they actually said you seem crazy? Do they watch CNN? Is everyone crazy by their definition? I...do not understand.

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

Delusion levels of crazy. They referred to a mutual friend who regularly has delusions and disordered thought patterns. Which made absolutely no fucking sense at all. Because I've made posts like this a hundred times and this is the first time in a while that they asked if I was okay.
Probably because I was sad over the death of a celebrity. Who, it was learned, slit his wrists and then hung himself.
Gods forbid I be so floridly introspective considering I have major depression that can plunge a person into depths beyond cold hell.