With 90% More Alzheimer's

I put on my cardigan this morning and got a wicked whiff of the sleeve. The sleeve, which hooked its scent up through my nostril and tugged. This smell was the most beautiful smell I had smelled in a long time (approximately one week). It took me a little while to figure out what the scent was. I was sitting in my mom's car when I realized it was the scent my dad used to wear before we bought him some Burberry shit one Father's Day. That, and it sort of smelled like a chest I hugged one week ago.

Then, I was sitting in the lobby of my music conservatory, waiting. A boy walked past who went to SLAA with me for two or three years. Now, I'd seen this boy since. Every week, in fact, since November of last year, and more. I'd seen him. And I had never forgotten his name before because it was a smooth-sounding name, an alliteration. But as he walked past, I forgot his name entirely. I couldn't even remember the alliteration. I sat there, thinking, "Will? Noah? FUCK!" until my brain felt like it was going to collapse. Then it hit me. His name is Alec. I wasn't even anywhere close with the W names.

So either I really have spent too much time in an aerosol cloud, or I'm a victim of early-onset Alzheimer's. Which one is better?

And what explains the increasing frequency of rash behavior I've been feeling? One minute, I'm as happy as a tart, and the next, something like "she kept nagging me" is enough to set off the time bomb. I feel really, truly terrible about it. I don't want to be the kind of person who picks a fight, but I can't help it. I try with all my might not to become snappish. I try so hard that it hurts my hands. And then I make yet another person call me a childish bitch.

Honestly, I sometimes just want everyone to go away. Not because I'm angry at them, but because I'm angry at myself. I wish it were possible for me to have something to say. A doctor's note. Like, "With apologies to _______, I am having a particularly bad _______ episode. I love you. I will be back to normal in ____ hours." But I don't have that. I have a bad attitude, I guess. I have a problem that won't get identified, because I'm afraid of my friends (minus the s) with behavioral disorders thinking that I'm "stealing" it from them. Can someone actually steal a mood problem? I don't have anyone to ask anymore. Everybody's left me alone.