I wish my brain worked.
What would it be like to have a functioning brain.
Last night I had put together a friend outing to Buffalo
Wild Wings. We gathered talked.
Had fun catching up.
But after we’d ordered food.
I got nervous. Decided I was
gonna step away from the table for a bit.
Ended up walking out of the restaurant. Being anxious around
the corner for a while. Thinking I’d go
back in. But I didn’t. I couldn’t get myself to go back in. So I texted a friend that I’d pay him back
for the food, and left. I had friends
text me. I deflected their attempts to
help me.
Now I was mad at myself for leaving an event I planned and
had looked forward to all weak. I
yelled, hit myself, and had small flashes of desire to wreck my car.
I finally got a little less insane, and was embarrassed that
I’d just left the group. Sat in my car,
trying to get comfortable enough to go back in, then I figured it was too long
anyway. Found a Cool diner called the One
Man Band to eat at. You order your food
via phone from your table. Then I went
home.
I hate myself, I hate
the way my brain works. I hate being
broken.
