Crazy Town

Is it possible to produce some sort of crazy-inducing pheromones? Because I feel like I might have those. Except that they don’t affect me, so much as they affect the people around me. …affect them with crazy, that is…

crazy

It’s like I’m living in some horrible TV sitcom universe and I got stuck with some of the worst writers in the biz. And each episode of my life depicts me facing off against some random reappearance of old crazy or some new development of fresh crazy. Either way, it’s me. Facing off with crazy. Worse, I feel like it would be one of those shows that runs on for too long and nobody knows why it’s still on the air and then eventually it just gets cancelled without any sort of resolution for any of the characters or plots…

Does that even make sense?

Or maybe I’ve just fallen into some sort of alternate reality where any person I’ve ever been romantically involved with turns out to be crazy, and possibly a stalker…. So I’m perpetually alone for fear of allowing another psychotic person to enter my life.

doctor-who-call-me-maybe-meme

And unlike some other alternate realities where I’m rich or awesome or Queen of the Universe or the Doctor’s new companion or Jane Goodall’s progeny, this one sucks because I’m working the same dead-end job, faced with the same ever-growing pile of debt, dealing with the same mind-numbing tasks and chores that I would normally deal with in my own reality. In fact it’s exactly like my normaly reality, but with added crazy!

Now with twice the crazy!

Now with twice the crazy!

Anyway, I just needed to vent off that steam… Because, as often as I’ve looked lunacy in the face, it never ceases to amaze me how crazy some people are…

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