I wouldn't want to lose any of my own bad memories but would there be a plan for this where I could administer it to others that have bad memories of me perhaps? While drunk on rye, perhaps?
Sorry about last night, here forget
I really don't think my bad memories are of much benefit, here.
I've got years worth of my Dad stored away, in which he unintentionally trained me into a crippling terror of failure, with responces like "What's wrong with you?", "Stupid ass", "Stupid son of a bitch", "Stupid mother fucker", or "I better not have to show you how to (insert task of any fucking kind, here)."
A good example is back when we just moved to a new condo and were gonna clean off this wallpaper cardboard stuff in what would be my room. Dad sends me downstairs to grab this scraper to help out, but I can't find it. He knows where it is, since he put it there, but when I tell him I can't find it, I get "What are you, stupid?" And he sends me to look again, to no avail. So he goes down, grabs it, and throws it at me and curses at me as he goes back to the bedroom.
This was pretty much life every day for the first couple weeks, until Dad no longer had anything to work on. But there was really no working with him on anything, without him swearing at me for being so stupid to not know all of the shit he can't be bothered to explain to me.
That was pretty mild, to be honest. He was much worse when he had an actual reason to be mad at me about anything. :?
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MrMonroepassed outon the floor nowRegistered Userregular
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I really don't think my bad memories are of much benefit, here.
I've got years worth of my Dad stored away, in which he unintentionally trained me into a crippling terror of failure, with responces like "What's wrong with you?", "Stupid ass", "Stupid son of a bitch", "Stupid mother fucker", or "I better not have to show you how to (insert task of any fucking kind, here)."
A good example is back when we just moved to a new condo and were gonna clean off this wallpaper cardboard stuff in what would be my room. Dad sends me downstairs to grab this scraper to help out, but I can't find it. He knows where it is, since he put it there, but when I tell him I can't find it, I get "What are you, stupid?" And he sends me to look again, to no avail. So he goes down, grabs it, and throws it at me and curses at me as he goes back to the bedroom.
This was pretty much life every day for the first couple weeks, until Dad no longer had anything to work on. But there was really no working with him on anything, without him swearing at me for being so stupid to not know all of the shit he can't be bothered to explain to me.
That was pretty mild, to be honest. He was much worse when he had an actual reason to be mad at me about anything. :?
what did the doctors refuse to see her?
what the shit, man. If someone is going nuts like that you give them a god damn feeding tube.
It started because I was thinking "I sure do love my girlfriend"
followed by "I really hope she doesn't die"
"I hope I don't die"
"I hate that we all have to die"
"I really really don't want to die ever, it's fucking terrifying"
"But I'm going to die someday and it might be tomorrow it might be right now"
"I think I might be dying"
I turn 26 next month.
there are no bullets
I have freed you.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
it is a truly fantastic show
what would be playing when they found your body?
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
Until someone shoots you because you haven't bothered to take cover.