Real pain is waking up with syphalis. Real anxiety comes from a diagnosis of Munchausers bi-proxis while also harboring an addiction to amphetamines and red bull that hides the alcoholism that keeps you going through those hard, daily times of unquestionable hardship while dealing with the fact that you have dyslexia, have the attention span of a mouse, and stutter a lot; especially when your nervous.
Real nausia comes from swallowing diahrea medication that was manufactured in 1975 during the Fukin Ford Administration. That was a bad one. You see, I thought it was good. I did think to myself, "Hey, that label looks a little old," as I shook it furiously. I cracked it open and poured a hearty cup full of the golden white, obscure, and somewhat smelly concoction, down my throat. I looked again at the label, but this time for a much longer period of time. Needless to say, that was a day filled with many ups and downs.
Real and measurable obscurity comes with having experiences that often make other people feel too much about their own issues. I was thinking last night about the sheer number of issues I currently have; and I was not surprized. Hey, 247 is not that bad. It is a relatively low number compared to my younger days. Back then I was called "somewhat obsessive and hyper".
I carry hatreds for people from early childhood. I often think that if I am having a bad day, at least I know for a fact that if I see that individual on the street, that ass is going to get smashed; and that person will feel discomfort for a pre-determined period of time with no real long term damage. The healing process would be about 18-38 months. This is important because the very day that person is wheeled out of rehab, I will inflict the exact same amount of unhappiness again. I will keep doing that untill I am old and grey. So I have that going for me. 98.2 and the LLC.