Alexa, Delete “Complete Nervous Breakdown” From My Calendar

I’ve been meaning to properly freak out for years now. I’ve been putting it off since the first time it clicked, that cursed switch in my brain flipping on and off: Oh my god. I really am batsh-t, huh? I must’ve been nine or ten when I realized that the brutal cinema screen death I yearned for wasn’t what other fourth graders had on their Dear Santa Christmas lists, paired with milk and cookies. (I was years before my time, apparently. Most of them would follow suit eventually.) Enough of that prologue, though; the moral of the story is I still haven’t found the proper time slot to block off on my schedule– a Google Calendar “appointment” reserved for finally losing it! But alas, other events take precedence, and rightfully so. The modern woman cannot possibly spare a free hour for writhing around on the floor seething with rage. I’ve got no time for a morning at the emergency room, much less a week to rot at the hospital. I guess I’m just bad at being a bona fide crazy person.

But there’s so much to freak out about! The list is as endless as the days I’ve begrudgingly survived. When my psychiatrist asks me, How are you doing? I sell her my genius, which can be summed up by the word Good! proclaimed with far too much enthusiasm. Customer service voice activated. I can’t help it. I turn on the pleasant demeanor (flip!) and sit there very still (hands folded!), smiling. And the magic works every time; I’ve perfected that flawless execution (wow, death pun! How clever of me.) It’s not that I’m actively trying to deceive her, it’s just how I protect my time. I feign stability because anything else would mess with my routine. I save psychosis for after-hours. 

Addendum.

A List of Things I Would Freak Out About If I Had Just Enough Time:

  • Photos people post of them posing with friends by the shore while the rest of the world rips apart at the seams (I promise you nobody cares about beach hair, don’t care, peace sign emoji, Brenda. People are dying and you’re still arching your back for that Instagram-worthy angle?)
  • I don’t mean to sound misogynistic. Sorry. My brain lacks etiquette.
  • Doors that don’t slam loud enough when I’m trying to prove a point.
  • Black holes, systemic racism, the effects of anger on the heart.
  • Reading bad poetry. Or even worse, writing it.
  • The entire concept embedded into the word family.
  • Religious dogmatists with (wrong) opinions.
  • Hypocrites.
  • Money.
  • People who are comfortable enough to not care about other people.
  • That I never got to choose whether I wanted to be born crazy or not.
  • (Or even if I wanted to be born in the first place.)

Alexa, delete “complete nervous breakdown” from my calendar.

Alexa, cancel my appointment with “happiness.”

Alexa, play something good. I don’t care what it is. I have things to do.

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