Paperwork is an instrument of Evil

I hate forms and paperwork and ahhhhh! I am drowning in it! Doing anything these days involves so much filing and sorting. Here is something I don’t understand: birth certificates. I mean, obviously if you are here you were born right? And what about these cards I have to carry around that say I’m an Indian and belong to Little Pine reservation? Isn’t that a little peculiar?

Bureaucrats sure do love these pieces of paper. When I went nuts there was a lot of paperwork to be done about the state of mind I was in. The commitment papers, those were creepy. Some lawyer’s errand boy came by and thrust this legal thing in my face saying all these things about how long they could hold me against my will. And then when I was getting out of the hospital, more paperwork. My shrink wrote some piece of paper that came in triplicate about me going nuts and how now I needed to be on disability. Went to the welfare office with that, my lease, some other shit. Waited for two hours. Got restless, I WAS a newly released mental patient after all. Got denied money because I missed my appointment. I missed my appointment? What do you mean I missed my appointment? My appointment missed ME!

I can’t believe even going crazy involves paperwork.

Anyway, so I am going back to school. Yay me. But it sucks because of the seemingly immense amount of paperwork, and now I am for some reason put on hold. I can’t go back to school yet and I wish they would have told me why, but they didn’t, and this is frusterating. I’m slowly sinking into a great pile of white eight by eleven inch paper. Someday someone will accidentally recycle me. Whoops, there goes Thirza. Made from recycled Thirzas.

If you’re REALLY crazy you get a free bus pass. Now you know why there’s so many weirdos on public transit.

Weirdos like me, who are suffocated by paperwork and so forth. People who couldn’t hack a system where there’s so many spaces to fill in with your personal information.

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