I was at my friend’s house with my boyfriend. I was chopping vegetables for a salad and he was standing at my shoulder with a running commentary on my technique. My friend’s boyfriend came over and said, “You’re micro-managing her?!” He was laughing about it. And the reason why that was so funny to me was because JL got it. He appreciated what was happening, often in the present moment. He was smart. And MM was micro-managing me. Just like any great director. I was the actress he was coaching for a lead role. 

The rest of the 4th of July was a dance. We traipsed down the steep hill, a motley crew, talking excitedly, me wearing MM’s clothes. Shorts, a soft red T with Marilyn Monroe’s face on the front in a cream color. My hair was long-for-me chestnut brown in a ponytail. Sunny was wearing a bikini top, shorts, and a bandana. Her long hair looking pretty and her beautiful face seeming to expect a disaster or maybe one already happened. Then MM took his clothes and shoes off and he was sitting there in his boxers. JL seemed to think it was funny. I was embarrassed, because for a minute it was like he was my father doing something embarrassing. Something easy to do when your daughter is a teenager. 

After the park wore out our fancy we headed up the steep incline. At some point I started running up the hill as fast as I could and I thought I could feel MM freaking out. I think he was always kind of afraid I would get somewhere first, before him, and leave him on the other side of the hill with no way of seeing me at all. All I know is that for a second I passed into a different place. I mean I could feel what he felt. I was connected to him. Someone dangerous was nearby too and they were in trouble in their little group climbing the hill and I was the one who made it. I ran up the hill, I was fast, I got away. Psychic change. 

I thought MM felt it too, but with his shoes the way they were and his composure to look after, he couldn’t exactly run up the hill. He might’ve run a little, but it didn’t look cool for him to do it. Some people literally run, other people have different tracks they use, maybe just in their minds. Anyway, he was anxious, but when they got to the top of the hill and he saw me he seemed to calm down.

For some reason by the end of that Fourth of July things had turned the wrong way for me again. He was irritated about something, but I didn’t ever understand what it was. It happens to me more than you know. Someone seems angry at me for something I’m perceived to have done, but then it’s often that in those cases I have no idea what’s occurred. However it’s not uncommon for people to blame me for things, because I can be blamed pretty safely, especially if I’m the more innocent party. So blame away, blamers. 

The micro-management of ASC. It continues even if I’m the only one doing it. I think I’m being watched at all times. In my home, from cameras on the street, cameras in the buildings, and people tell me I’m the one to blame. I am never alone in my mind! It’s been that way for a long time. We’re all being watched. Some of you do have some privacy in your homes still though thank God. So, because I feel people watching me I’m in a constant state of micro-management. 

I don’t always like being micro-managed, but when it’s done right I prefer that to doing it to myself. At least I miss my friends. It seems like we could have had even more fun and done even better. How often in retrospect does it seem that way? I’m lonely. I started posting like a maniac on Instagram yesterday, because I was trying so hard to feel connected. It didn’t work. I’m looking for meaningful, fun, real relationships with people. Virtual reality just doesn’t cut it. 

The people who want to be my friends now broke my trust and I don’t want to go back. I don’t have any friends other than my family here in the mountains. My knitting needles, goji berries, and books aren’t enough for me. But people are inherently dangerous especially with my curse. It’s true I’m cursed. I want to work. I want to interact with people. I’m tired of hearing the word, “Psychopathy” ringing in my head. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy. 


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