I am a shell-shocked veteran. Because I was involved in World War III while working in missile warning (It was NOT a test) I have BPM (being properly mortified). Every time I am affected by it it gets worse because crazier and crazier people keep running for Commander in Chief and our country got really war-mongery after 9/11.

Because the truth about this event is still kept secret, I am in the position that many victims of extreme pathology are in--- sometimes mental health professionals think I made it all up and must have a service-connected disability for something else. I mean really--- who is bothered about having participated in the extinction of the human race? That's not healthy. I must be manic depressive or something. Apparently, mental health is not being put out by little things like human extinction and having played a role to that end.

Don't worry. Be happy. Pretend that you're middle class and have all the time in the world to take care of yourself and all the resources you need to get help--- like the help you get when an RN fancies herself to be very educated in the Science of Mind. Or an art therapist who doesn't understand the significance of my having completed 60 hours of studio art at a university. You'd think she'd at least know what 60 hours of completed college course work looks like, but that's probably another delusion of mine as is the college transcripts I'm looking at from the University of Texas.

Damn me. Damn me. Why do I care? Why do I feel shame? These feelings aren't consonant with a 9 to 5 corporate personality. I'm useless.