So, over the summer people had a ridiculously low and skewed opinion of me. They probably still do, but whatever.Thanks to the downright life-shattering lies my brother propagated via Facebook and his evil attempts to manipulate my life, the public thought I was crazy. My therapist strongly disagrees with this statement, and I am more than happy to bring anyone along to my next appointment.
That aside, it's a psychological fact that when someone already thinks you're crazy then anything you say sounds crazy. I had only myself to entertain, and I was getting really bored, so I decided to just run with the crazy thing and embrace it.
People thought it was insane to change my profile picture more than once a week and decided to stop being friends in real life because of it, so then I started changing it every day just to annoy them.
My..dad...saw a light bulb sitting on my counter when I first moved in. I was just cleaning up my place and trying to change some fucking light bulbs in my lamps. This was apparently an indication that I was on drugs, a criminal, and not allowed to drive by the powers that be.
None of this was true at the time.
To entertain myself, I made a whole centerpiece of light bulbs and have it proudly displayed on my kitchen counter.
People thought I was a dumb ho, so to entertain myself I chose some social networks to talk like one. I was ridiculing the dumb hoes myself, but I just wanted to see who would honestly believe I would ever seriously speak like that.
I hardly got drunk when I went out by myself, mainly because you need to keep your wits about you if you want to go out alone and not get taken advantage of. I also had to walk my ass home alone a lot of those nights. I would say things like, "oh my god where are my shoes?" in the most obnoxious drunk-white-girl voice I could muster just because it was fun. Call it a sociology experiment, if you want to call it anything.
One time there were some asshats being incredibly hurtful on the internet, so I wanted to go out and have fun dancing with my favorite DJ playing. I didn't want anyone to know where I was going because I didn't need any bitches judging my awkward, insane, jumping-around-like-I'm-5 style of dancing. So I posted on Facebook something along the lines of, "Why poke the crazies? If I'm so hysterical and delusional, isn't it best to leave me alone? So...what am I going to do tonight? Something fucking crazy."
Now, I know just that last line is accurate, I don't remember what else exactly I said. So...what did I do? I took my merry self on the lightrail, got to my favorite place to dance (before everyone knew which place it was), had two Redbull vodkas instead of one, and I danced until bar close. I rode the lightrail back home and went to sleep smiling after my dance-induced endorphin rush. To me, having the two redbull vodkas and jumping around for like 5 hours was pretty crazy. I don't know what everyone else assumed.
So you see, everything is relative.