I've been through many insane phases of life tonight, all mashed up into a few hours time.

I think I should go easy on the ... wait, there were no drugs.

I guess it's all uncovered and be proud to be the first to know. I'm officially crazy.

And, and that bitch from Scrubs? You know not the blonde chick, and not the mexican chick, I mean that surly and cynical chick who hangs with the angry superior-doc, and the she gets pregnant? Yeah that bitch is hot.

(And I'm saying bitch, not to degrade women because I'm a woman myself and I wouldn't degrade my kind because I can't without degrading myself and I'm not there yet, but I'm saying bitch to make a point here. As in, YO BROTHER THAT BITCH IS SMOKING DAMN HOT!)

I figured it out and I must quickly write it down before I forget and then end up another ten years trying to solve the problem.

Okay, taking a deep breath.

I am not able to fall in love nor commit to any kind of serious relationship (there it is, the problem) because my expectations of such a relationship or a proper victim to fall in love with (yes, it's a victim, after all I'd stalk, capture and rape them) are too influenced by fictional characters of TV-shows and brainwashing society. It gave me a picture and an ideal of what my future SHOULD be that I can never, in real life, match up with. So all I have to do is change my taste in guys and I'll hook up soon enough, fall deeply in love, get married and have seven kids and a Chevrolet. Maybe even a Porsche Chayenne if he's a nerdy business man with money.

Oh please dear God, let him be a nerdy, good looking business guy with money. The Zach Braff kinda guy. Or Jason Bartha.

See what I mean?

All I have to do is change my habits in order to get my life working.
So easy.