I didn’t get much sleep last night.

I laid in bed yesterday, just staring into the dark for a while. Twas a nice time for contemplating and whatnot, as I listened to the birds outside my window, calling to each other. I thought to myself, gosh…if we don’t have the slowest birds in this neighborhood!

Oh did I forget to mention that it was three in the morning? Yeah, 3am. What the feezy were those things doing chirping like they were welcoming a new dawn? Go to sleep! And re-calibrate your body clock, because this nature thing? You’re kinda doing it wrong.

Then I wake up in the morning to hear the hooting of owls in broad daylight. This area has the most inappropriate wildlife, I swear.


I can’t really talk though. You know how in The Sims 3, you make your sim’s personality traits? If I were a sim, Inappropriate would definitely be one of the five. And I don’t mean just socially awkward things, or even conscious actions. I mean, I do sometimes scroll through my Facebook news feed and like sad statuses. But that’s not what I mean. It runs much deeper than that.


I’m that girl you’ll see walking down the street in the middle of July wearing uggs. I find it a great time to finally wear all of my skirts in 30 degree and colder weather. I just never calculate the weather into my fashion plans. I know, it’s probably the first thing that most normal people consider when deciding what to wear. But I never claimed to be normal, and I screw myself over constantly for it. And you would think it would be an easy problem to fix. Just start checking the weather before I get ready. I can literally ask my phone what it’s like outside and have my answer so I could dress accordingly. Simple.

It doesn’t matter though. I’m just not cut out to be normal. Because see, I’ll do that. I’ll check the weather, and then open my closet, prepared to find some appropriate attire. But I’m suddenly blinded to all clothes meant for the current season. In the summer time, all I happen to see in my room are sweaters. Everywhere. I think to myself, I know I have a bunch of tanks and crop tops, where the heck did I put them? I guess I’ll just wear this sweatshirt today. November rolls around and hey! There’s all my sleeveless shirts. Weird! And then my sweaters go invisible to me for the next few months. I don’t get it either.

Oh, it gets worse.

So picture this. You’re in church with your family, the service is going on, and this woman a few rows in front of you starts shaking uncontrollably. And she didn’t catch the Holy Spirit or something weird, no she was having a full-blown seizure. Everyone starts taking notice, and your pastor asks if someone with medical expertise could step in and help. Your mother, a nurse, leaps over the pew, runs over to the woman, and assists a doctor who also ran over.

And then there’s you.¬†Watching all of this go down, shocked and worried for the woman’s life, and giggling uncontrollably¬†in the midst of chaos.

Welcome to my life, folks. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but for some reason I laugh when I’m sad, scared, worried, or stressed in one way or another. It’s not like I find situations like the one above funny in any way, I just…I don’t know. Science? I’m broken guys, simply put.

I used to always fight the urge to laugh when my parents punished me as a kid. I remember a few occasions where I failed to hold in my giggling and got in more trouble.

I don’t attend funerals…

Inappropriate emotions is apparently a symptom of numerous mental disorders, so let’s hope I’ve reached my cap on crazy. I don’t think this is an unheard of…quirk, that people have. So don’t come at me angry or crying, because I will laugh at you, but only because I care. But you won’t accept that, and I would like to stay friends please. So yeah…stay away.