My Temporal Lobe Epileptic Psyche Is Trippy.

My Temporal Lobe Epileptic Psyche Is Trippy.
When I go through the looking glass, fall down the rabbit hole, and enter the Wonderland of my seizures, my name is Annalira, or Annie.
My guide is Alicia, who has been there for my entire life. She speaks softly and helps me navigate through shimmering warping labyrinths of psychic storms. Her hands are soft, her blonde hair is sleek, her blue eyes remind me of a calm summer sky. I cannot break free without her help. She makes the forests move aside for clear paths and she warns the various Creatures to act pleasant or stay away.
She always holds my hand, and when we touch we pass light and power between us. Sometimes it is our only source of light beyond the storms and lightning above in the dark gray violet sky.
Sometimes she tells me to run, when I hear Something galloping behind us, Something with claws and scales. Sometimes I cry, and she tells me that soon we will be out of Wonderland and she will hand me over to Serena, my other guide, for comfort. Sometimes, if my wave my hands properly, magic leaps from me and things move so I can run faster. I don't breathe much, I just run.
Eventually, we reach the rabbit tunnel and Alicia moves us too quickly to feel. We see the shimmering wall of glass and Alicia yells at me to go, and shoves me through the glass.
On the other side is a woman with coffee hair, alabaster skin, teal eyes, and ruby lips. She pulls me into her arms and moves backwards, pressing my cheek to her breastbone. Gently, Serena begins to hum, and then to sing, a low mezzo soprano lullaby that vibrates through my body and my brain.
Gratefully, I release the breath I had been holding, at which point I feel myself leaving the seizure, and in the real world I gasp for air and struggle to feel my body again. Somehow, somewhere deep inside, Serena and Alicia know I am safe and they sigh with relief, and it feels like a cool breeze weaving through the deepest part of my psyche.

*Note: This story has nothing to do with anything. I just felt like writing it.

Stupidity can be treated with proper remedies, it just takes time.

An actual conversation with a stranger on a train platform:
Them: You look really tired and shaky. Are you sick?
Me: No, I just have bad fatigue. I'm disabled and I have a chronic pain disorder.
Them: Really? What is it?
Me: Fibromyalgia, among other things.
Them: What? Fibromyalgia isn't even real. You're just lazy. Are you really disabled? I don't see a cane or anything.
Me: I was born with Cerebral Palsy due to brain damage that led to other problems. I forgot my cane at home. Fibromyalgia has been proven to exist. For me specifically, it's one of the problems caused by the damage.
Them: Whatever. You don't even look disabled. My cousin has cerebral palsy, and she needs a walker. I bet you're just lazy.
Me: Are you always this judgmental of tired-looking strangers, or am I a special case?
Them: Fucking lazy.
Me: Nice meeting you, too!
At that exact moment, the train arrived and the doors opened. We both stepped into different cars.
As for why I even bothered to talk about my disabilities with strangers, someone has to.

(For the curious: I walked around the Congressional Plaza center and bought ionic tourmaline hairbrushes with coupons at Ulta, and organic beverages and chocolate at Fresh Market.)

Seriously, I don't even have half the strength for any kind of bullshit today or probably the rest of the week. That includes making fun of things I love, like my toys or my makeup or my TV shows or my books. Just a cheerful warning.
(A friend on Facebook called my love of Ponies and glitter "revolting" while parading his love for Diablo and its unicorn killing, and I just about tore him apart in a private message, because fucking hells that is just rude and I shall not be talked to that way, even if he thought he was joking.)

Also, I am very very very tired and weak. I'm going to bed early. My everything is hurting badly enough to make me cry. I love you all.