Malaysian Psycho

A lot of dumbass people on the Malaysian Twitter scene were talking about depression and other mental illnesses. And I was like, you fuckers don't know shit.

So I consulted a real-life psychologist. Cause fuck you and your dumbass parents and grandparents. I kill you so hard, your ancestors will die.

Me: Hello, psychologist.

Psychologist: Hello, psychopath.

Me: Now that we got the formalities out of the way, here's my question: what do we do with crazy people? Kill them, yes?

P: Define crazy people.

Me: Republicunts, of course. Politicians in general. And... yeah, how about that most mild of mental illnesses - depression? It's like having a cold, right? Take some oranges and sugar and you'll be okay.

P: What do you want? What kind of insight?

Me: Clinical.

P: Drugs.

Me: Really? What kind? I want to die of a morphine overdose at some point. Morphine - it's grrrreat!

P: Nah, I mean, treatment for mental illnesses is drugs.

Me: Lucky bastards. Okay. So what can normal people - cause people with mental illnesses are freaks - do for them? Cause we normals are so fucking cool and shit.

P: Well - depression - yes? Get them to focus on one thing. One goal.

Me: Like 1Malaysia?

P: No, like, quilting. Or writing a book. Or do something. Takes the focus away from the bullshit funk they're in. But it must not be something they think they are good at.

Me: Like if I get depressed, my one thing can't be fucking thousands of beautiful girls? Because having sex is how I define my self-worth and ego.

P: Yes.. I mean, no, ah... yes. It has to be something like a project.

Me: Lego? DnD? Drawing?

P: Yes.

Me: I see. Because idiots peg their value and sense of self-worth on things they do, doing those things as the one goal could trigger their dumbass depression again, yes? Tell me I'm a genius.

P: You are truly a genius.

Me: Of course. So anyway, what is the worst type of support you can give these depressed lunatics?

P: You mean, if you want them to keep their depression? Molly-coddling them.

Me: Ah, meaning? Telling them they're great? Telling them not to listen to those who 'make them feel depressed' and only focus on those who 'make them feel happy'? Because feelings are just a shadow-play created by the brain, hooked on endorphin, dopamine, serotonin...

P: Uhhh...

Me: And love is equivalent to eating lots and lots of chocolate?

P: Errr...

Me: Because this would prevent them from developing the skills necessary to face the world in general? It creates personality disorders that center their sense of ego and self-worth on validation and they then become addicted to attention, sympathy and a host of other things that could manifest in a deviant, manipulative persona that could also hurt others?

P: Hey, psychopath, you are NOT a certified mental health expert. SO you shouldn't-

Me: That's all the time we have today. Join us next week when we discuss the female G-spot  - myth or the Whipple's Tipple.

And that was the conversation I had with a health expert.

I myself suffer from some form of anxiety. Social, perhaps. Paranoia, definitely. I have a distinct aversion to anyone trying to mess with my brain or manipulate me. My response mechanism over the years is, once exposing the manipulation attempts, is to destroy everything.

This stems from my own insecurities about my intelligence that has manifested in me working very hard all my life to remain smarter than everyone else. And I am. I am the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century.

This is why it is difficult for me to form attachments with people, because most people have insecurities and trust issues that compel them to try and control other people through whatever way. I work in the media, and most of the primitive side of the industry is trying to control and manipulate people's behavior through communication.

Think of communication as some sort of programming language for people and you get the sense of deluded grandeur and self-importance these people have.

I have spent most of my life now, understanding people and what I have uncovered validates my misanthrope.

I also keep a very small circle of friends - people I deem as more sincere and secure than others.

I'm still a chronic approval-seeker. My anxiety issues compelled me to smoke and overeat until I had a heart attack that nearly killed me two years ago. I deal with these things on a daily basis. I wake up and I tune my mind. It's not easy, but it's not impossible either.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have several projects to focus on. Not for my depression, because I am the best at what I do. I do not attach my sense of self to these things. That, I save for porn.

Mr Boron - World's Most Boring Man

So I had today all planned. There are some plumbing maintenance at my apartment, so they said there wouldn't be water till tonight.

I thought I'd go for a morning meeting, then spend time at my alumni's clubhouse, to use their swimming pool and restaurant.

I handled a few issues on my way to the meeting and felt like I was kicking ass on my daily chores and projects.

Then, in the middle of the meeting, I got an email saying something I thought I was done and over with a month ago resurfaced with new requirements. And that this information was not given to me in the past few weeks, because. Just fucking because.

This, threw all my plans out the window. I had to go home, hunker down and see if I could settle everything before the end of the working day.

Luckily, I was with a friend so I unloaded my anger and hatred - with the intensity of a thousand suns - how everyone is stupid but me, how I am a genius trapped in a dumb human society. I went on for about 15 minutes. And then I felt better.

On my way back, I decided to say yes to all the other things I said no to today because I had set today aside for just one meeting, some emails and a whole lot of swimming.

Now, I get to settle my water heather issue, go for another meeting at 8pm, work on two proposals, wrangle around two quotations and do a bunch more stuff.

This also means that tomorrow morning, I need to go and get some stuff binded and then sent somewhere, before my long lunch engagement.

I need to watch it. This is how I got the heart attack last time.

This is also why I can't take on any other job in the next three months. I'm full for the year. Plus, some projects look set for six months next year and there are ongoing things that need my attention.

I say this with gratitude. After my heart attack in 2014, I thought it would be almost impossible to work or get a job or do my projects like last time. I concentrated on recovery for a few months before a kind soul offered me a job. Worked at it for a year plus and then quit to focus on my business endeavours.

My businesses are very small. Almost miniscule. I know this after working with some big ass companies with revenue by the billions, employing thousands of people. The things that I do now are microscopic in comparison.

And yet I am happier than I have ever been. I still get angry, usually at the same old shit. People withholding information for no goddamn reason, especially. But I'm more or less okay.