People are just too quick to assume things, to classify, to categorise, to take whatever they have learnt from their environment and apply that to what they see in front of them. That perception isn’t always accurate.

People look at me and think I’m a completely innocent goodie two-shoes. Naai my bru! Ek skommel baie and am somewhat of an avid Okka Pyp smoker. Voetsek! That definitely qualifies me as a Bad Ass!

They think I’m a loner by choice: I have Social Anxiety Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder and ADHD that fucks up nearly every relationship I’ve ever had.

They think I sit at home every weekend and do nothing: WRONG! AIYA! I engage in the awesome activity of speaking to myself. Yes, I speak to myself. No, not in a healthy way either. It’s more of a “Rainman” level of speaking to myself. To the point where I literally go on for hours and possibly break a window in the process.

Most people think I wouldn’t touch of a drop of Alcohol: My bru, there was one time I became so black-out drunk I requested to be thrown over a wall because I decided my gate was too far. How’s that for not drinking huh? Okay yes, I don’t really drink except for the one occasional Reds which I guarantee I’d be tipsy from. I’m currently watching my alcohol intake due to the fact that a combination of mal pille and alcohol don’t really go together. I’m just scared that the combination will be so potent that it will cause me to go up to a group of girls asking: “WIE WIL GENAAI WEES?!”

They think I don’t use curse- words: WHAT?… motherfucker I swear like a fokkenwil whatever the fok you can fokken come up with, naierrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!! Okay I’m done now. Every naise (sic) Facebook post back in 2012 had at least one curse word in each sentence. Bru, I swear I could have beaten Gordon Ramsay in an argument.

They think I’m deliberately rude and passive-aggressive: I’m just fokked in the head. My social anxiety causes me to be really awkward. People constantly ask me “Why are you so quiet?” and other depressing questions like, “How do you pick up girls?” reminding me how sad my love life really is. Speaking of love life, I AM currently engaging in sexual activity. (I’ll just let that soak in) I’m doing the deed with kinnes that smaak me but I don’t feel the same way about them. The thing is my bru, a nai is a nai (or to quote a friend of mine that once said “Dis net n gatjie wat jy jou piel indruk”) so that’s what I’m doing.

Can you blame me? I’m sitting with a case of blue balls that I’m trying to get out of the Ice Age. It just goes to show that it doesn’t matter how good looking a guy is. As jy nie jou bek oepe kan maak nie then it baat fokkol. Even though I know it’s common sense to greet somebody when you see them, somehow my brain tells me to completely avoid the person because I’d go bedonnerd if I somehow messed up speaking to them. I’m serious! Like if I’m at work (which I’m desperately looking for, by the way) then somebody just has to give me what I ASSUME to be a “kak” look, then I’m like “FOK IT, I QUIT!” No jokes. bru.

They assume I’m utterly lazy and spoilt and that’s the reason I “don’t want to work”: In reality, the abovementioned disorders and now possible borderline personality disorder (crazy-ass mood swings stemming from the slightest provocation) make it very hard to get a job and sustain it in today’s tough job market. I am very sad about my situation but I also understand that nobody wants someone with multiple mental illnesses working for them.

Many people assume that I’m boring with no interesting pursuits in life:
My Aspirations:
• Writer
• Hip Hop Dancer
• Actor
• Rapper
• Boxer
You wouldn’t expect that from such a quiet bru, ne?

Don’t judge a book by its cover.

Yours sincerely,
Sensivino Bean (Blame my castration-deserving parents for such a kak name)