If I were to write a book it will most likely be called "Diary of an Insomniac". But it could also be called "The Workings of a Closet Cliche-Lover" or "Sarcasm on a Stick".
I realize that lately my insomnia has gone from bad to worse. Why can't sleeping pills be as easily obtainable as Panadol?? It's detrimental to my health that they start selling it without prescription!
Plus, so what if I adore cliches? I can be sarcastic and romantic at the same time. I do realize though that the men in my life do not really appreciate my sarcasm. My ex-boyfriend had a problem with it. And my current one seems to hate it too. Don't they realize that denying me of my wit and sarcasm is very much like denying a licensed MD to dispense a diagnosis when a symptom is involved! It is as much a part of me as the sun is a part of daytime!
So how can you deny me that? Whenever I have a sarcastic comment to make and I have to suppress it, I feel like someone is denying me the right to pee! It's that annoying! Let's just put it this way, when you need to pee, you run to the nearest bathroom right? How long can you hold it in? You can't! Not for long, anyway! It's bad for your bladder. Well guess what, same thing goes for my sarcasm and me! So it's take it or leave it, peeps!
If you date Siti Nurhaliza, are you gonna tell her "Don't sing!"???? That is like all she can do! So cut me some slack, and let me be! You can't take my sarcasm to heart. I don't really mean everything I say. It's just that I'm good at being sarcastic. It's almost a talent. So when I can't voice it out, I feel trapped. Sucked into a vortex of irritation, air filling up my lungs but I can't breathe.
You won't deny me of breathing, will you? It's the same thing!!!!
Me = Sarcastic Comments. In the words of Joey Tribbiani, "Joey comes with the bag!"
It's 3o'clock in the morning, and I am venting. Well, one thing I have come to embrace, Facebook and Blogs are cheap therapy. I am not about to pay some shrink 200 bucks an hour so I can lie down on his couch and let him tell me that I've got unresolved issues with my mom! I don't have a psych degree and I can tell you that I DO HAVE UNRESOLVED ISSUES WITH MY MOM! Don't we all? So this is the best form of therapy for me. A therapist who doesn't talk back.
I mean what is up with shrinks anyway? Actually there was a point in my life where I wanted to become a child psychologist. But there were also points in my life where I wanted to be a Police Inspector, Fashion Designer....enough said!
They sit you down (or rather lie you down), and make you tell your innermost secrets. If you ask me, shrinks must be closet gossips. They thrive on other people's stories. Of course doctor-patient confidentiality does not permit them to repeat the stories, but then again you never know what goes on in those Doctor's Conferences anyway! They probably swap patients' stories! Who has the whackier one wins the pool money! Which is why it is probably going to take a court order for me to end up in one of those tacky leather couches!
Not that I am putting down those with psych degrees, but it was probably the easiest option in obtaining an MD. No yucky surgeries, no gooey dead bodies, just come up with silly explanations for certain behavioural conducts and voila! I mean come on, wasn't Freud already a dead giveaway?!
So in the words of Samuel Goldwyn, "Anyone who goes to a psychiatrist should have his head examined!"
For as long as there continue to be reruns of FRIENDS, I'll be fine!
