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Joined: 11/21/2011
My Story:
Over-Intelligence, or as Society Calls It, "Mental Illness."

I worry I may be ahead of my time--this is at the heart of soul of a crippling depression I've struggled to treat and fight for the past decade and a half. I'm pissed off at God--if God exists--because I've been thrown into a world with no way out, unless you blow your head off with a shotgun or turn yourself into hamburger by jumping off something. No suicide method is appealing to me, because I'm smart enough not to have romantic notions of death. And the Mexicans have made Nembutol controlled now, so, so much for that option. There is no way out of this planet, this time period, this monkey body, and this meaningless worthless life. I'm stuck in prison, and since my birth into the world means I must die, I'm stuck on Death Row.

My only hope is to try to decorate my jail cell enough that I forget about it. But that's very difficult to do in such a confined space--this lifetime. I seek medical remedies to help me find meaning and purpose, or at least, to make me dumb enough to go to football games, drink a beer, climb the corporate ladder, take the kids to Disney Land, and all the other stuff God is surely laughing at people for doing blindly. I don't know what to do, other than sleep as much as possible, where I can escape.

I'm looking for two things: a medication to make me an idiot, or sedated into oblivion, or a crooked Mexican pharmacist who will sell me a few grams of some stuff I need.

Thanks for visiting my profile.

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