As I recently mentioned I was sent on a company trip to a seminar. Things have not gone well. Not at all. I have been experimenting with alcohol over the last little while again with a fair amount of success. This has only encouraged me to do something really stupid. I was on this seminar with nine others from the company, four of which were in my immediate department. These are people that I have known and worked with for three or more years. I wouldn’t call them best friends but I have attended private events at their homes and even helped them on a personal level. One I helped move and another I helped return a car to a dealership by giving them a ride home (in a blizzard no less). I have been on multiple company forays with these individuals, I have been drunk in their presence dozens of times. I am in all other ways comfortable around them. This is the lulling falsehood of social activity that sets the stage for a trap. You see, there happens to be this odd sort of social behaviour in my job wherein we say incredibly disturbing things. Intentionally. Seriously. You know dead baby jokes? My industry and more than likely my very company probably invented them. No joke. We say incredibly unthinkable, crass, crude, barbaric shit at any given moment, like a nerve check. The idea behind this one might imagine is that the one who flinches or shows distaste, the one who reacts or shows signs of distress is the weakest link. A softie. I know, it is incredibly childish and not overly gentlemanly but you play the game, right?
Perhaps it is because of my dark vision but I have never reacted much to these and often find myself at odds while playing this game. In point of fact it makes me feel a little like an alien whenever this kind of thing comes up. When someone says something that I assume is truly horrible and everyone groans or grimaces and I do not react at all or merely stand there and smile like a fool I feel like a bit of a psychopath. Then I start to wonder if maybe I’m not. My attempts at joining in at this game have always been fairly successful because as I have mentioned I am reasonably clever and I keep it simple. I merely state something sexual about a nearby elderly or morbidly obese woman and we are off to the races. Simple. Don’t get me wrong, I think this game is fucking vapid and pointless and I really hate playing it but it is a part of fitting in to my workplace social sphere so I do as others do. Here is where it gets particularly tricky for me.
I am on this seminar and I have recently begun experimenting with alcohol and things have been going pretty damn well. I am surrounded by people I know who I am supposed to trust as they have trusted me in the past and I have reason to believe that all should be well. I let loose. A little too loose. Regrettably and embarrassingly loose… Let’s wind the clocks back to these two posts: meds/alcohol and hungover ramblings. This will give you a frame of reference for the kind of thing that you can expect. Well, you combine these two posts with a little game I like to call “let’s get childishly disgusting and inappropriate” and then you have me, good old Dysphorian opening a demonic rift to the pit of hades. Inside this portal stands not a balrog, nor a satyr, nor any other imaginable horror. No, something far worse. The twisted mind of none other than Jack himself, dapper though he may be in appearance, inside his head roils all of my horrific dark vision and the frustration of having been imprisoned by my medication for far too long. Again, I want to pause here for the new readers, though they may be few or none at all, and state that Jack is not actually an alter ego. He is merely a name I have applied to all of my bad/puckish/negative/bold/subversive behaviours. He is suave, sophisticated, charming alas he also embodies my stronger qualities and in the past has been my enforcer/protector and go-to degenerate. Especially the later.
We are in the car ride back from the bar whereupon departing I had the brilliant idea in my already inebriated state to order two shots of hard liquor and down them in one go. Don’t worry, the driver was sober. We are speaking exuberantly at a near shout, a roadside pitstop has to be made to provide my bladder with relief. After resuming our trek conversation continues and jokes are told when out of nowhere Jack bursts forth. The alcohol has washed the effects of some of the meds away and blended with the wellbutrin to give him super-powers. From the recesses of his putrid mind, in the bowels of his depravity he pulls forth an entry into the aforementioned game. I shan’t repeat it as even in anonymity it shames me beyond utterance. I will say this however, it involves period discharge, my face and a woman of not yet legal age… I suppose by now you are ready to vomit. I certainly am. In saying the very words and discovering myself to have said them the next day I suffered from a serious amount of cognitive dissonance. Still am actually. My sober self finds anything sexual with minors to be the highest possible crime to our species. I put it above murder and regular rape, as in murder at least you release your victim from the torture of it and with rape it is an adult mind with some resilience and fewer years to suffer. But with the underaged they are doomed to an entire life with the memories and trauma of it. Believe me when I say that I am not this way inclined even remotely and find it beyond reprehensible. I personally think that any nation that allows child marriages to take place should be invaded, so strong is my disgust.
Now, it was fairly irresponsible for me to drink on my meds and think that it would be okay. It was unreasonable of me to trust these co-workers yet again to have my back as that has not historically worked in my favour (I think that it must be obvious to the reader that I am not a popular individual which is a sad truth that I am only just now beginning to realize myself). So it should be clearly expected that the reaction to this would not be a favourable one. I said the age fourteen, specifically not as though it matters… You would think however that I had confessed to actually having committed some far creepier act (like what I don’t know and do not care to imagine nor postulate here). This game is universal at my workplace, everyone either knowingly or unknowingly plays this and the usual reaction is “Ugh!” whereafter everyone rolls their eyes and moves the hell on. Yes, my comment was definitely across the line. By more than a few yards. However, what I suppose my hallucinating and delusional med-mixed drunken mind was thinking was that everyone would do just that. This was not the reaction I got. They took me very seriously. VERY seriously. So seriously in fact that all males present were threatening to murder me. This bewildered me. I won’t lie I really didn’t know what was happening at all. I was so confused. One moment I was sitting in the back seat of the car being polite and enjoying a conversation and next thing I know the entire population of the car was being openly hostile toward me. Somewhere in those moments the full force of the most disturbing works in the back of Jack’s (my) mind came bubbling forth and shat out something that I will never in a million centuries fathom repeating.
Here I am in the middle of a hostile gang of passengers in a car doing sixty-five miles per hour, give or take five miles. In this state of mind (pay close attention to the second line of the first interaction as I was likely experiencing most if not all of them) with people behaving extremely aggressively toward me. I guess they had the right, I probably would have except I would have been smart enough to remember the conversation that we had at the start of the evening about what could potentially happen with my medication. Instead of treating me with open hostility as a long term colleague and even friend I might have instead reacted with yes, a fair amount of alarm but then concern. Concern that they were not in their right mind. Concern that they were troubled, or that the very reaction they had warned me of was taking place. Instead I was being branded as an irredeemably sick fuck and told that I was going to be killed. In this hallucinatory, delusional state I lashed out at the rear seat passenger, feeling cornered and paranoid. Next thing I know it gets out of control and the best I can do is open the door of the still moving car in the hopes of either forcing the driver to pull over or making a leap for it. Please note, I am not in any way thinking rationally here. Eventually they get me calmed down and back into the car and we make the rest of the drive back to our accommodations. Still other passengers persist in shaming me and threatening me. It is decided that I will sleep in another room of our otherwise shared accommodations and sort out our differences in the morning.
Everything seems fine from the haze of my slumber where all of the nights events have been forgotten. Until I am awoken by a police officer. Great. I believe in law and order but waking up to a cop is never a good thing, ever. Questions are asked. I am told that I will make an appearance at the station in the morning to give a more complete statement. Rather than keep things quietly to ourselves one of the gutless dickholes in the car decided to go running under the skirt of the supervisor on our trip. He happens to be one of the other five not in my department. He also happens to be a spineless puddle of donkey sperm because he then goes and calls the police. Yeah. Better still, they tell the police what I said verbatim. Yeah. WHAT THE FUCK?! I think when I told them that I have psychological issues and that I take pills, when I put my trust in them as human-beings, colleagues, friends even. I didn’t expect them to try to turn me in to the police as a sex offender for something I said while fucked up and hallucinating on said meds mixed with alcohol. I like to believe that Eminem taught mine and the next few generations at least one thing and that is that just because someone says something that does not make them that thing. Me merely declaring: I am Superman, does not make it so. Also stating that one fucks chickens in his grandmother’s clothing does not make that necessarily true. No, I definitely should not have mentioned any kind of depraved act on a fourteen year old. No, I definitely should not mix meds with alcohol. No, I should definitely NOT TRUST the useless pieces of shit I work with. They are probably the flimsiest most unreliable shitrags I have ever encountered. In addition to not only failing me totally, they sold me out for something I wasn’t and then later when I retuned to ask what happened they all passed the buck and sold each other out. Sickening. The most wretched group of weasels ever begotten. Not worthy of my respect, trust nor protection. If they cannot extend it, I would never in my life return it. To this point as I have mentioned I have already done for them more than they have ever done for me.
I sincerely hope that there does not exist a file of me somewhere that lists me as a potential predator. I would hate to think what I would do were that the case. I actually went on a tirade last year upon reading a number of cases and began trying to understand these assholes. I started researching their methods fastidiously in the complete off-chance that I might happen upon one by pure happenstance or come to understand them in some small way, that it might make me feel less nauseated by the whole thing. Other than finding out how they get around the internet I found nothing. It made me feel worse knowing that their techniques are really hard to prevent. Right there is the root of my problem. My mind latches on to the things that it finds most repulsive that it has no control over. It tries so desperately hard to create some semblance of order and justice in the miasma of chaos and carnage and when it comes up empty it reaches the breaking point. That breaking point is where I have to try to make it into something funny (either consciously or subconsciously) or I can’t cope. Now as I have said, I don’t normally like that game that we play at work, but perhaps my mind subconsciously was still struggling with the issue of sexual predation. Perhaps it has something unresolved stored back there that needed to be said or pulled loose, like a thorn in my paw. In my intoxicated and delusional state I think my mind finally decided to set it free and as it turns out some things really just never are funny. Well, this is what I am going to tell myself in order to prevent cognitive dissonance from tearing my whole mind apart.
As for being torn apart. I’m certain word has made it back to “the office” and I will soon find myself under fire from all kinds of jackholes who are worried about their children. Convinced I am some child-horny vampire they will probably want to tar and feather me. I look forward to this like most people look forward to root canal on a boat in a storm, with a giant fucking pick-axe up their ass. This is going to be unpleasant and pretty much impossible to explain. I am going to be permanently stained by this, no matter what I do there will always be one fucktard who is utterly convinced that I am indeed a child molester. This idiot will spread rumours until the end of time, regardless what anyone tells them. Not like it was bad enough that I wanted to kill myself before I was branded a creep several months ago, let’s see where this goes.