I've been waiting for this. The tenth installment of Things That Piss Me Off. I've been waiting for something to piss me off just this much to make this installment the most heartfelt one yet.

Here goes.

People who overestimate what can actually be considered a mental disorder really piss me right the hell off.

I have a few mental disorders. I have wretched anxiety, terrible depression, dyslexia and minor obsessive compulsive disorder.

People who have no mental issues whatsoever can look at themselves and go, "Oh, I'm so worried about this, that or the other thing, so I must have anxiety!" really piss me right off. My anxiety is so bad that I was hyperventilating for three years for NO FUCKING REASON. For three years, I struggled to get a full breath, terrified that I had emphysema, which caused my anxiety to skyrocket, which made me breathe faster, which meant that I wasn't getting the proper O₂ to CO₂ transfer in my lungs, which made me breathe harder, which made it so that I felt like I couldn't get a full breath, which started the vicious fucking cycle all over again. For three years, I was a shivering wreck. It was all I could think about. I went to sleep every night terrified that I wouldn't wake up in the morning, thinking that my lungs weren't working properly and that they'd just shut down while I was sleeping.

That is anxiety.

Fuck your worry that your boss doesn't like you. That isn't anxiety and you can go right to hell.

You want to talk depression? I have a chemical imbalance in my fucking brain that makes me depressed constantly for no fucking reason. I have chronic and manic depression. Chronic AND manic depression you ask? How does this work? I am constantly depressed for no reason and without warning I will spiral into a depression so bad that I start crying for absolutely no reason. Couple this with any real reason to be sad - any reason at all - and I will be useless for days, because the slightest thing will tip me off and I'll be a quivering ball of tears and self-loathing. All of my dreams of being able to go anywhere with my music started disappearing when my lung started collapsing. My plan was to hold on to menial jobs until I could afford to record a proper album and send it to the right people. When I realized that my entire future was falling apart, I was literally standing on the roof of my seven story building preparing to jump, because I didn't know how I would ever be able to deal with the rest of my life.

That is depression.

Fuck your boyfriend who dumped you after only a month of being together. An extra-special fuck you to you if it was an online relationship. That isn't depression and you can go right to hell.

If you're trying to read something when you're tired, it's guaranteed that you're going to have to reread a word or a sentence or a paragraph because your mind starts messing things up. That isn't dyslexia. I constantly have to retype words because I have such a hard time putting the letters together in the right pattern to make actual words. I constantly read things wrong, write things wrong and have a hard time processing information properly. I read the first Harry Potter book when I was in sixth grade. At the end of the Sorting Hats song, he says, "You're in good hands (though I have none), for I'm a thinking cap!". Until only a couple of years ago, I read that as "You're good in hands (though I have none), I'm for a thinking cap!" and I always thought it was a hilarious typo until I was reading it out loud and realized that I'd been reading it wrong for TEN FUCKING YEARS and I never noticed. That's just one of many examples I could mention to you. I consider myself lucky that I don't have severe dyslexia. People who have severe dyslexia can technically be classified as illiterate.

Fuck your tired eyes. That isn't dyslexia and you can go right to fucking hell.

If you've ever uttered this phrase, you can just go stick an ice pick in your eye right now: "Man, I can't stand when my roommate leaves an empty container in the fridge! I have to throw it out because I'm OCD!" NO, fucker, you're just CLEAN. I have a carabiner I keep my keys on. My keys have to sit in the proper position on my belt or else I fiddle with them, no matter what is going on. I have to hold them in just the right way when I unlock my doors and I'll fiddle with them until I'm holding them just right. When I put my keys down, I have to put them down in just the right way or else I'll pick them up and put them down again until I get it right. When I had a key ring, I had to hang my keys facing in the same direction every time and it infuriated me when my roommates would borrow my keys and not put them back right. When I put my computer down on any square surface, I have to adjust it again and again until it is perfectly level with the sides of the table. The front edge of my computer must be perfectly parallel to the edge of the table. There must be the same amount of space between the left edge of the computer and left edge of the table as there is on the right side. When I need to charge my computer, I will wait until the battery is at 11% because I can't stand that little window that pops up and I don't want any imperfection on my screen. Everything I do is regimented. Even the way I lean on the wall when I'm out on my balcony. I need to be standing in the exact same spot. Every time I put down my drink, I have to put it down exactly where it was. When I eat crackers, I can't eat an odd number of them at once. I have to eat two of them at once. Perfectly rigid structure is fucking MANDATORY.

Fuck your cleanliness. Unless you actually have an obsessive compulsion to clean something or straighten that stack of magazines, that isn't obsessive compulsive disorder and you can fucking go right to fucking hell.

And you bastards who say that being crazy is "fun". I hate you so much. The people who suffer from these disorders - there's a reason that word, "suffer" is used. It's not fucking fun. It's debilitating. It's hinders proper function. In some very sad cases, it completely stops proper societal function. Those cases are the ones who have to live in psychiatric homes. People who suffer from these disorders, especially with anxiety in the fucking mixing pot are terrified that some day they'll end up in one of those homes. Do you really think that's fun? Do you really think the quivering mass of jerky breaths, tears, fears and an obsessive need to cry an even number of tears is having fun?!

If you are one of those people who overestimates what can actually be considered a mental disorder...you really need to rethink some things.