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12-02-01 - 12:04 a.m. I was very hateful today. Hateful and spiteful and just an overall bitch. I have occasional Days Of Evil (which have nothing to do with my menstrual cycle, thankyouverymuch) during which, I've noticed, all the phonies, the idiots, and the ignoramuses of the world make themselves known to me in the worst way possible. (Sidenote: I'm so damn anal I actually looked up the singular "ignoramus" to specify its plural form.) On any given Day Of Evil (DOE), it's unwise for the world to test my temper, as my patience level dips dangerously into the red. I've found that my usual default facial expression ("bored") turns to "I hate you. Jerk." I tore a fingernail this morning way down below the quick, so now I have to be really careful so it doesn't catch on something and rip off my finger. I trimmed the nail as far down as I could, applied some clear hardening polish and a Band-Aid, and made my way over to visit Rob. He didn't seem to be in the mood to acknowledge my existence, except to tell me I looked and sounded "like shit." I apologized for having pneumonia and getting up, dressed, and coming over despite how hard those activities can be when you can't breathe, because lord knows the last thing I wanted to do was put him out. Our meeting lasted no more than ten minutes. Closer to seven. He clearly had no interest in seeing me and I didn't want to impose any more than I had already. So I left and went holiday shopping. It's not like anything even happened today, and it's not like there is a specific person or group of people I hate at the moment. Today does seem to be one of those days where people who think they know exactly who I am and how I think just because they've read a little bit of my diary want to get inside my head. But it's not even really limited to people who read my diary. It's everyone. I don't know, maybe I emit some sort of mysterious, intriguing vibes that attract would-be psychoanalysts to me like magnets. When I don't feel like talking, they arrive at their own conclusions without first consulting their copies of Psychoanalysis For DUMMIES and diagnose me, probably pursing their lips and nodding. I hate it when people do this. It's not your place to judge me or diagnose me or assume anything about me. If I don't want to talk, that's just it. I don't want to talk. Do not assume that it's because I'm too drunk, do not diagnose me as disassociative, and do not judge me as a bad person. I just want to be the only being in the world right now. I'm antisocial and sick and exhausted, but my coughing keeps me awake. It kept Bryan and Justin awake, too, so I told them to spend the night at Justin's parents' house so they could sleep. I'm not really contagious (pneumonia's really not as infectious as people think) but they deserve to be able to sleep without me hacking up my lungs in the next room. Of course, if I was smart, I'd take care of myself. But I'm not smart.
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