It's funny. There's always like a million things I feel like I want to say and then I sit down and none of them will come. Maybe it's *because* there are so many.

Difficult day, to begin with the mundane. More long-ass useless meetings with Asshole Client that I didn't even at ALL have to be there for except to make them feel better.

Can I say this? I don't belong here. I mean, BIG -here, not diaryland here. I guess maybe everybody here feels like that. But I hate feeling like it all the time.

I don't like people. I don't like people one bit. Some of them are better than others. One out of a thousand I like okay.

And now I'll get even more hateful.

At heart, I'm not so lovable. At heart, I'm a selfish rat bastard and I don't care. Or maybe not. It's hard to tell. What's trained and what's born into me. Maybe it's both. I hate - like I'm not kidding here - hate *mankind*. But individuals I can't help it they break my heart.

Everybody breaks my heart. Every single person. To the point now where I just have to ignore it because otherwise I walk around broken-hearted all the time and that's simply not useful to me or to them.

Wait, I was talking about being hateful. That's not so hateful.

I'm hateful because I'm an observer.

Because awful things can happen. To me, around me. Good things can happen. Indifferent things can happen. And.

I'm -mostly- just like a pair of eyes recording the whole damn thing. It's like, christ, I don't know how to explain it. Parts of me care. The parts of me that...people see. But deep down inside? I don't know if I do. Deep down I feel like...well, nothing much, honestly.

Here's the fucked-up part. Other than the fact that I'm not even sure that what I just wrote is true. Or whether it's the other way around. Or neither. Anyway. The fucked-up part. Is that I'm so fucking sensitive. I don't mean like a sensitive artist poet. I mean more like a device. Like a spectrometer. Or a fancy telescope. Half the time I feel like I was born to be an excellent sensing device.

Pick one of the five senses. I'm more sensitive than average in all of them. Every single motherfucking one. This is not a boast. It sucks, it really, really sucks. Especially if I pay attention. My brain has learned thank fuck to ignore most of the noise. But if I pay attention. It just...hurts. Everything hurts. (okay, me, can I get through a SINGLE entry without crying?)

I've already talked about my hearing. I hear better than my dog. I hear sounds that humans should not hear. For a fucking reason: THEY HURT. A LOT.

Mostly my brain has learned to block out the noises I don't need. Which is very, very good. There are huge numbers of noises that we don't need. I'm glad of that. The only time it really gets me now is if there's an unusual and unusually high or low sound.

Smell is a little different. My brain never *quite* trained itself out of that, but it's more okay than hearing. Except this. I smoke. A lot. One time I was in the hospital for 12 days and I couldn't smoke. That was fine. I didn't mind not smoking.

I minded the smell.

I couldn't sleep for the smell. There was a spot one night by my knees that smelled and I couldn't get away from it and I couldn't sleep all night. I nearly suffocated from the smell of my roommate's flowers. I got out of the hospital and nearly threw up from the smell of New York. I couldn't eat, because everything smelled awful. I couldn't drink anything but water, spring water. Until I started up smoking again. I just can't *wait* to quit...

There's more, but I feel like I'm being boring and self-indulgent. Although fuck, what the hell is this other than self-indulgent?

One note. More for my own benefit than anyone else's. I'm not trying to point out how special I am. I am special, in many ways. And I am also not, in many ways. I am more not-special than I am special. And I am certain that many other people have experienced what I have experienced, better and worse. But these are the things I need to be brave enough to record (and publicly) before I can get to the things that are down in there somewhere. This part is not so hard. The parts up ahead, I don't even know what all of them are, let alone how hard they might be. I think all I am looking for now is simply acknowledgement of my existence as a real person, not some construct of others'.

- onehanded