[For the 3rd time today, she sits down to try to type out something of meaning.]

I hate when I get like this. I get sedentary. All around me there are tons of things that need fixing, cleaning, organizing, etc. They bother me. They exacerbate the sense of clutter I already feel like.

I am bored and stuck inside my head.

And I get along with people so much better when they aren't around me. I get irritated when someone is talking to me if I'm already engaged in a conversation / daydream / rememberance with myself. I almost said, "Shh. I need quiet from you" to my friend as I drove him home.

I can't always help it. The first time I attended a meeting at the Right Mgmt place, I blew my self-introduction and couldn't hide my contempt and bitterness. I don't have that happytobehere attitude, and if you're going to force me to talk in front of all of you, then I'm not going to sugar coat what's on my mind.

And at the shower yesterday? One girl next to me said jokingly I was a lush after I ordered the 2nd Tanqueray and tonic--whereas I snidely said, "Oh, I'm Knot--we haven't met." When I started on the champagne, the other woman next to me said, "Drink a lot?" I responded with, "What else am I gonna do here?"

You see, people, don't fucking bother me. I am sitting by myself, away from everyone, because I don't like you. I don't want to be in a big group of people I don't know. I have no urge to leave an impression on you with my (lack of) humor or wit. I don't want you to introduce yourself, because in a matter of hours, I'll forget you even exist, like you will me. No, I don't want to look at your wallet's photo of your children, I'd much rather rip it up in front of you. Trust me, we have nothing in common. If I want you to talk to me, you'll know it--but if I look away from you, just accept that I'm not a sparkling conversationalist in your presence. And if you make me talk to you, I will immediately start imagining what you look like when I tie you up and pour a bag of spiders down your throat.

My career assessment came back, and it said I'd do good at bookkeeping, or clerical jobs, file-this-over-there things. The out-of-site jobs that are done rotely, involving no ingenuity or change--the kind of jobs a sociopath wouldn't mind having. Because there is no one else around to torment.