Apparently crazy people have something in common.

Have you ever been to therapy? For the sake of this ramble, we will assume that you haven't. As I'm sitting there in that stuffy little office, in that uncomfortable chair, pouring my heart out to the little old lady who looks bored, I cry about how my daddy (not my current dad, but the piece o shit that raised me) didnt love me and all the other issues you grow up with raised in hellhole texas. I get done crying, dry my eyes, and continue to fiddle with the tissue and confuse the hell out of my therapist for the remaining 48 minutes of my therapy.

I take my nervousness and frustration out on my tissue. Ramble on about my past life, the one that belongs to a totally different Hailey, not the one that is sitting here in the office trying not to trip down memory lane. I fold and unfold that poor tissue. squeeze it between my fingers, roll it into a little ball, and then roll and roll and roll again until I realize it's flaking off onto my pants. Rest in peace poor tissue, you were the easiest target for my hands at the moment.

As I toss it into the wastebasket and give it a good send off with a moment of silence, I realize, it is most definitely not alone. As a matter of fact, I cannot even pick out which tissue is mine anymore. Dozens of little tiny tissues are all wadded into poor little pitiful looking ragged balls. Whoever said no two crazy people are alike missed the mark a little. Apparently we all like to torture our tissues when we are done using them.

I bet you're sitting there reading this going, Oh Emmm Geeeeeee I SO roll my tissue into a little ball! And now, you're stopping and thinking...wait a minute...she said crazy people..but..I'm....oh hell. Yeah, you're probably a little bit nuts. I mean really, who else is going to sit here and read my 3 paragraph ramble about a tissue? You're probably either a roller or a shredder. Either way, you're a little bit nuts, and a tissue torturer.