So I have been asked to write a little something about me. Not here specifically, because this space I am about to occupy will not be what I am sure this person is asking for, but however about how I in particular do not find me as a topic something so straight forward to write about.

I haven’t really ever liked myself. I don’t think I can recall if I have ever liked myself. I have blocked out a lot of memories as a kid. I can’t even tell you when I started to block things out. I can’t tell you if the reason things were blocked out is because sometimes, I wonder if my brain is actually just a fog inside my head. And there are electrical pulses like lightning that is my brain working… sometimes…

The fog I imagine has come on since I used to self medicate and I have now given myself a lobotomy. In which rather than remove the piece of brain, I have damaged it through binge drinking and Seroquel.

I used to self medicate, I used to have a problem. I still have a problem. Once an addict always an addict. I can just control it better these days. But if I start to ride the bi polar train downhill or the paranoia becomes too much then I will reach for the pills just to shut Brian up and slip into that wonderful sensation of a coma.

And so this is probably why I struggle to talk about myself. Because I treat myself as two separate entities. Inside I am a ninja. I elude my real person from even me. I can be so extremely stoic that no one in the 3D world really knows what I am feeling. And I have done this for so long that I wear the poker face all day everyday. I am a stranger in my own head.

The fact I am somewhere on the autistic spectrum doesn’t help either I guess…

“You’re smiling but you’re pissed off?

Okay, whatever…

Choose an emotion! Which is it?

If I am pissed off, I swear more, and tend to act like a teenager slamming things about. I don’t smile. But on the flip side… I don’t much smile anyway… Bad example I guess.

I can take things literal. One time, I was at work and I said I gotta go to the store… does anyone want anything. This chick says “Yea, can you get me coffee?”

“Sure”

She then says

“Ya know, the coffee that comes in a tin”

I was a little bit puzzled by this, I mean I don’t drink coffee, I feel a little embarrassed so I just say.

“Sure”

I don’t really want to keep asking because she is foreign born. And I don’t want her thinking that I don’t understand her and offend her.

Thanks paranoia.

In my head I think well when I get to the store, I’ll figure it out.

So I get to the store and I go to the coffee section, and there is coffee, that comes in a tin and not a jar. So I think, cool, that must be it. Though my head is screaming at me

“How can that be what she wants?… Dumbass!”

Anyway I go back to work and I give it to her. She looks at it, slightly disappointed, and with a smile.

“Shit, it’s not right, fuck!”

I kept the receipt anyway since my brain was yelling at me. She kinda says “No, I meant the coffee you get in a tin”

Am like…

“Isn’t that what that is?”

Anyway, she takes it back to the store and exchanges it for what she really wanted… Iced coffee in a can, from the fridge.

I say to my other colleague..

“She said in a tin… What she just got is a can…”

Literal thinking. Bites you in the ass every time.

So since I think like that, and I don’t much like to discuss or think about myself or have even really taken the time to get to know myself as an adult. I can’t say too much about me. I am often surprised when people tell me things. Things perhaps I should know. But it’s okay living inside a stranger. Because I learn things on a daily basis. Then cause my brain is a fog I forget them the next day.

Is sometimes a blessing. Sometimes a curse. And since I am already cursed with mental health, I suppose I should be used to being plagued.