Trash Only. No Recycling.

Standard

There is a realization for myself that I have been avoiding, yet expressed for years all at the same time.

Music is vital for my sanity. It is well known that I never, ever, go anywhere without my high quality headphones. Music fuels my emotions, and brings perspective to my surroundings. It translates my pain, my hopes, and my dreams into something that does require a shared language.

And precisely because of that… communicating my language is so hard. You feel isolated. I try sharing my music.

This means something to me.

                “But, I cannot understand what they are saying.”

                “I can’t really sing along to this.”

When I share music – I am sharing myself. Offering a deep emotion that I feel I cannot express in words otherwise. It has been a running joke for quite some time on,”Lara Language”. Since, communication is such a trial for me. My vocabulary is vast, and I have to constantly adjust in the moment, so others can understand the terminology and context I use. I learned to communicate in a short hand due to this. Either via gesticulations, music, or images in hopes that by removing the challenge of my words – one can understand my meanings universally.

Yet, this never seems to happen.

One of the worst feelings in the world is the that of oppressed silence. An empty room where the vibrations bounce off the walls to echo for an audience of none.

Listen to me.

I have something to say.

Will you please listen?

                My composition professor today, after class, sympathized saying it must be difficult being the smartest person in the class.  It is, and it is not limited to the classroom. With which an astounding intellect that seems to be inversely proportional to the rich social interactions that are possible. Add in a (very misunderstood and difficult) personality disorder… It is difficult. You spend a lot of your time feeling lonely, and yet there is a dichotomy of preferring the solitude over the lackluster interactions you would have to face otherwise.

I am a very articulate and intelligent person. So, why is it that I am so often misunderstood?

Or is it no one wants to understand.

Check, please.

 

You can blame my migraines?

Standard

I have written two separate post drafts on separate topics. As my “regular” readers may know – can I really say regular, when I do not even post regularly? I generally only write when the mood strikes me. So, when I begin writing a draft and do not finish it in the one sitting I do not pick it back up.

All I do as of late comprises of school, BTS videos, homework, BTS music, studying Korean, BTS, and BTS. I do not have the current emotional or mental capacity for much else. If I leave my thoughts to their own doing, I will usually get either a migraine, and/or become extremely emotional. The primary emotions being rage and depression. I would like to avoid all of that in its entirety. Like, I have a migraine right now because of some frustrations with a friend I cannot openly express. I tried to. But she is stubborn and a bit too immature to heed my frankly wise words. This is one instance where I will not feel guilty for the I Told You So, dance. Truly.

I mentioned BTS earlier. BTS is a very… it is something I am quite grateful for as of late. I became a fan of this group out of Korea a little over a year and a half ago. Their work ethic, passion and talent is something that I strive for and admire very much. I listen to their music and read their interviews to keep me insane and remind me why I am going through so much to try to get to the life I want for myself. They were just kids when they started this journey almost three years ago. And I mean just kids. The youngest of the 7 boys was just 15 years old. They knew what they wanted to do at that age (technically younger since they trained for a number of years prior to their debut), and here I am having a hope that I know what I want for myself now at 24.

Thanks to my various conditions, I will wake up often and wonder if I want to even attempt the day. Or, be on campus and have convince myself if I want to stay. Either because of less than favorable social interactions, or I will be questioning my efforts. Usually, my mind will go to a tangent of could I say that I was working as hard as these kids. Would they do better than me in my shoes? I am quite the competitive person, hello OCPD, and when I cannot say yes – my ass gets up and goes to class. I do my homework. My laundry gets done. My animals are fed. All the little things and big things are accomplished. For that drive alone – I will be forever grateful.

I am extremely picky about what music I listen to. Hell, I am picky about everything. Everything must meet a certain level of criteria for me to be favorable of it. I think in images. It is apparently a rare quality, and I was only made aware of it within the last year. When I discovered K-pop, and subsequently the commonality of choreography with their music – I was quite pleased. It all began with Shinee’s, “Lucifer,” and went from there. Whenever I hear the music instead of having to visualize my own choreography – I just see theirs. Then, I started to learn the difference between the manufactured music, and the stuff that is composed with the artist involved. Either in part, or whole. Music from SM Entertainment literally comes out of Europe. The majority of it at least. YG Entertainment allows the artist a little more wiggle room creatively. With the label BTS is a part of, they are allowed a heck of a lot more room. Quite often, you will see the members names in the credits of the songs. They work on the producing, the lyrics, and even the album concepts over all. Collectively, they try to send messages with their music. They certainly are not the only group that does this. They just happen to be one of my favorites because they also do this in tandem with everything else.

 

Do I have any songs to recommend?

Hm…

I have different favorites for different needs. If I want to see a very upbeat choreo – I would have to go with DopeWar of HormoneDangerBoy in Luv, and I Need U.

Other upbeat songs are Second GradeBoys with FunMa City, and Hip Hop Phile.

Now, for songs that you can be sure will make me want to cry every time are: Hold Me TightTomorrow, and Nevermind. These are all BTS tracks. I just spent a solid twenty minutes formatting and tracking down all of these, so I will save BigBang and Block B for another time.

Funnily enough, I noticed my three top favorite groups all start with the letter B. BigBang, Block B, and BTS. They all also have that triple quality I require. Artistic involvement, strong choreography, and amazing work ethics. Little random tidbit for you.

So yes, some random rambling for you at five in the morning when I cannot sleep, or even relax because of yet another migraine. I cannot sleep normally anyways, so that is not surprising. I just happen to have another migraine right now.

I hope everyone is well and those that are having to get up because it is Monday morning after all: I am sorry and good luck out there today.

Rapid Cycling

Standard

My Agoraphobia has reached an all time high.

I rarely leave the house. It takes an internal pep talk for the courage to go outside and feed my two cats.

Sometimes, I manage to go the Publix or the feed store to purchase hay for Miss Lola (who is doing great by the way). Straight there and back. I only learned a week ago that a Starbucks and Chipolte had popped up just on the other side of Publix and has been there for months.

I had not a single clue.

Lately thoughts are of dreaming of being stable and normal. Really. That isy big dream. To have a stable job and income that I enjoy. Enrolled in a nice university working on a Master’s degree. Not rapid cycling between hope, anger, despair and happiness.

Manic one day, literally – one day and the next is filled with suicidal ideation.

My sister attacked not only myself but my mother, my older brother and my father over my mental illness.

“She’s a mooch.”

“Right now she’s a waste of space piece of s***.”

“I’m only saying this out of love.”

The attack against me was from this direct quote of a text message excluding her name.

“We need to have a talk and some clarification.”

I sent this text after hearing about what she said to my mother. Normally, I am a send them to the burn unit, and give them the grand jury after kind of gal.

The rare ment where I am calm, cool and collected in initiating what I was hoping to be an educational conversation that would lend some perspective.

After her six page text of venom I only said two words, “good bye.”

My sister has always been verbally and emotionally abusive. But she had those teeny tiny moments when she was my best friend. I could go to her and she would hug me and make everything better.

While they were rare, they are very important to me.

However, the irnoy is – I am who I am because of her, today. She was the one who raised me until we moved to where we are now 17 years ago.

Fear of an opinion. Fear of weakness. Fear of love and affection. Because showing any of these things made me a target. Not my brothers, but me.

I did not have a favorite color until this time last year.

I did not understand how someone had a “favorite color” until after my miscarriage.

I remember sitting on the bus to school, trying to figure out what a favorite color was and how one chose their favorite color.

Was it pink?

No, everyone is made fun of for liking anything pink.

Was it green? Like my brother’s?

Nope, not that either. Not being original sets her off as well.

What about blue?

I don’t think so. Soany people say blue but like every other choice – they were just colors to me. Not a part of a personality or identity.

So, if I was scared and confused at the simple idea of owning to the notion of liking so much to call it your favorite color – imagine every other item, person, place or thing people expected you to have alignment with.

I don’t expect to speak to sister for a long time, if ever again.

I am doing everything I am capable of right now to be better.

There are so many times when like headlights the distance, see something is coming up that I need to recognize and work with but my brain cannot seem to connect how.

It is an emergency

Standard

I stabbed myself with a pencil today.

Not deep but.

I called the emergency line from my insurance.

I am spiraling out of control. Doing horrible things.

I only hurt and destroy everyone and everything I come in contact with.

They’re going to call me back with an appointment with someone, some where.

My mom isn’t answering her phone.

I’m in a dangerous place.

Someone posted to Instagram “a woman with a beautiful body is good for a night. A woman with a beautiful mind is good for a lifetime.”

What if you have neither? Not to even get started on my physical flaws, but my mind is rotted and disfigured.

I’m good for nothing.

This post was drafted and published using the WordPress App for Android on my Galaxy S4. There are more than likely spelling or grammatical errors I may have missed before posting. Please forgive them, this is just a personal blog.

Stitches and Hallucinations

Standard

So, this happened yesterday. (I have to upgrade to upload videos. So please click the link. It is an Instagram video.)

Around the new year I slowly start picking up a sewing project again. It started out as a quilting project in December for my boyfriend that would feature the Hyrule crest.

At first I was staying up through the night and I simply waited for my dad to go to work early in the morning before moving in my rotary mats, basket of fabric and other supplies to simply trace the templates I made and get that part started while I watched TV and movies in his room on the floor.

Quickly though, it became apparent that I could only spend five minutes at the most hunched over before I had to lay back for another five to ten minutes while my back, neck, shoulders and wrists quieted down. As you can imagine I did not get very far in the scant hours I had to work on it.

At first I was using very old muslin fabric my mother had brought from my grandparents for since this was my first quilt and it is a rather involved project and was only going to be a “rough draft” the first go around.

But when I decided all that work shouldn’t go to waste and I was going to use extra fabric that fit the color scheme of my choice and make a quilt for me so I could practice and still use what I made.

Then I discovered my fabric was off grain. And no matter what my mom or I did, even with her fifty years (since she was ten) of working with fabric could we get it back on grain.

So I was frustrated.  In pain. And upset. I hadn’t even begun the piecing of the quilt top and here was quite the obstacle.

I distracted myself by mildly organizing (says the person diagnosed with OCD) and thoroughly cleaning my sewing room. That also involved organizing the absolute mess that was my patterns collection.

I still wanted to sew but I knew I honestly couldn’t handle the physical pain that was accompaning my trying to work on the quilt. I was funny to try deluding myself that it was limited to quilting at the moment. Rheumatoid Arthritis does not work that way.

Anyways. I have quite the hoarding of “silky types” from JoAnn sales that I never used because I was afraid of making a dress and then becoming so frustrated with one tiny issue (like the neckline gaping) and taking it apart and abandoning it.

But they aren’t high quality fabrics. Pretty but not fancy. And with me, if I don’t actually enjoy the fabric, and I don’t see myself wearing it because of that – I won’t do it at all.

So I went to a pattern I had already made previously, Simplicity 1687, a Project Runway pattern.

image

image

image

This time I would be making it in a cream and soft jewle toned fabic that was quite shifty and sheer.

image

                     Fashion Fabric

I spent the first day working on tracing the pattern (I always trace) and double checking to make sure I didn’t need to lengthen the bodice as well as address fitting issues I had encountered in the previous version. There was of course, a gaping neckline, gapping at the back above the zipper in the detail and the armscye is tight in the under arm. But gaped underneath. So, to clarify too high and tight on my armpit, but actually gaped away from my body.

These are fit issues with every “Big 4″ pattern that I am starting to learn how to address before the fact.

This time around I used an old cotton I had in the stash, my mother just refers to it as nightgown material, to make the upper bodice where the fit issues were.

I wish I had photos I could post, but I took them in my bra to true the fit and well, that isn’t going on the internet. That was for to reference going forward, only.

On the muslin, I pinch two long, thing darts angling softly down and to the sides at the neckline and moved in the side seam 3/8”. My first instinct was to go a full 5/8″ from the initial seam for the closest (comfortable) fit as I prefer my dresses fitted to shape. But, I wanted to factor in wearable ease and lining so I only shaved off 2/8″ from the fabric itself and will fit the seamline from there to what is most comfortable.
I however, forgot to adress the back bodice issue, so I may revisit that in a moment as I have plenty of fabric to recut the two small pieces.

Moving on.

I started tracing and cutting the fashion fabric by weighing it down with various object and taping the pattern pieces to the fabric itself with masking tape to eliminate and possible chances of it moving on me whatsoever. Keep that in mind. I was also tracing and cutting on the single layer.

But… something weird happened.

When I would after finishing tracing and transfering markings, I would remove the pattern pieces and then actually replace them best as I could to confirm I didn’t mess up.

But the tracing was entirely different from the pattern piece.

So I retraced.

And traced again.

And again.

Eventually I just gave in and cut everything out. Slowly. And quite painfully. I have a pair of I believe 7″ or 8″ knife edge left handed Gingher shears that I have worshipped for nearly a year if not more and they are heavy. Supremely heavy. And in need of sharpening and possibly an oil in the pivot points. Screws. However you prefer to refer to it. Anyhow, I was once again in pain. Cutting one piece at a time and wrapping my hand and wrist in a warm towel and resting between.

JoAnns had sent out coupons for a 15% off your total purchase through a text. I suggest if you frequent JoAnns, you sign up. The coupons are good and work with or without internet access. There was also a 5 for $5 pattern sale. I had a litrle bit of money so I figured why not check it out while there was a car available for a few hours?

First off, I wanted to check out the patterns. I only buy when they are 5/$5 and I knew the Early Spring catalog was out.

….it sucked. I spent twenty minutes going over that and even the winter catalog and I only picked out four patterns.  And I had to talk myself into getting all but one.

image

image

image

View A/B

image

View C/D

I checked out the notions. I got a seam gauge, some thread (my first spool of Gütermann!) an invisible zipper and I was going to look, just look at lining fabrics as my original choice feels like plastic-y to me.

So I was browsing and walking around and of course landed in the “silk types” aisle.

I was just feeling and touching the bolts as I passed them. If they were white they usually got a closer look as I couldn’t find any colors that really matched the fabric I was going to use.

Most of them had that same plastic-y feeling I was trying to avoid until one caught my eye. My finger? Touch? Attention. 

image

I am trying to make a better practice of actually identifying the fabrics I purchase and use so I have made a habit of snapping a quick picture of the end caps on the bolts of fabrics I like.

I tried calling my mother to ask her opinion but she didn’t pick up the phone.

From what that says, I really hope this is peachskin that I have read about. It was a mental boost I really needed. Some girls buy shoes, I buy fabric.

Before during and after waiting in line to get the fabric cut, I was using a calculator to check, double check and  triple check that I was going to have enough money. This is something I always do when shopping.

While waiting in line I was right next the scissor and rotary cutter display.

I had been researching rotary cutters for the quilt for a couple weeks before I called a hiatus but I was planning on using them for quilting exclusively as I was worried as to my dexterity with using it around curves. And I knew that they weren’t available online exceot for a mark up on Amazon. The one’s I wanted at least. I wanted something with weight to it that would help sink into the fabrics thus requiring less effort from my joints.

And of course something geared towards southpaws. I don’t need left handed utensils but it sure is a lot easier and I have to actually think about what side I am cutting on which turns my dyslexia around and frustrates me.

The 45 mm left handed Gingher Rotary Cutter was disappearing and fast. Even on the wall at JoAnns it was on clearance. For nearly, if not slightly above half price.

I once again did the math, just the sure.

Tried calling my mom again.

Texted Mike and he called me.

He said if I had issues afterwards he would help me out. Not that I would let him but it was comforting to know he was willing to offer.

Anyways. I go home. Smiling and happy and excited.

Back to the tracing issue. Like I said, no matter how many times I traced, how much I weighed the fabric down or pinned, it never matched the pattern piece when the vellum paper was placed on top.

image

             What is this madness?

However, when I placed the fabric on top of the pattern piece it magically lined up.

I took to Instagram and Twitter for assistance and no one knew what was going on.

So I just moved on.

Using the rotary cutter was like a dream. I still had back pain but no more having to wrap my wrist and hand up.

I have yet to cut out the lining fabric as I am unsure as to whether or not it is best to line or underline (ha, get it?) the dress.

Underlining would had more structure to the bodice but I want the skirt of the fashion fabric to be breezy and a lined skirt underneath for proprietary,  separately.

But now that I think about it… maybe it would be best to just treat the two as one. I dunno. Suggestions?

image

And last night, when I was going to wind the bobbin with my new thread that matched the fashion fabric, it did it’s spazz out.

I called and spoke with the Viking Sewing Center in Sanford where I bought the machine a year and a half ago and she said bring it in, they will take a look but it sounds like it more than likely needs to be serviced.

Super bummer. Super duper bummer.

One thing about me, especially if you have been reading about my trials with mental illness, is when I become extremely upset or emotional – I go into a psychotic episode. I will start hallucinating and I did. After I had calmed down a bit and I was talking to Sassy, I tried going back and asking her about some of the things she mentioned but it was never brought up at all.

I was driving to get food and on the way home I could have sworn I saw a woman with two small chidren walking a Rottweiler down the middle of the highway. I pull up to the stoplight and they were no where to be found.

In my memory, I have never hallucinated actual people before. Animals, voices, monsters anything but people. It was definitely frightening.

I was so upset because I was really hoping to have this dress done by Sunday when Mike gets here. And now it is definitely looking unlikely. When I get an idea, and I let myself believe it is possible… I put everything into it  I count on it. I depend on it. It is now part of me, my schedule my future and when things don’t go the way I plan? It sends me reeling.

It sounds off but it is just one of my “issues. Just like my hallucinations. I cannot help it.

Anyways. That is where I am at today.

This was originally a sewing blog and now it is a whatever is on my mind blog.  This was entirely for me and my outlet and if you are willing to hop along for the ride, awesome. Nice to have you with me.

🙂

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors.

Just the pits, man.

Standard

Today marks two weeks until Mike flies in. I should be happy, excited and dancing around with the giggles.

But I am not.

Today has been filled with depressive thoughts with a suicidal filter like a bad instagram selfie.

I feel locked away in my house. Even if I didn’t have crippling agoraphobia, I have to plan weeks in advance to be able to use a car and leave.

For the past few days I have been trying to lightly ask about using the truck the Friday before Mike flies in so I can go get my hair done. I have had money set aside since November so the next time I saw Mike, I would not have two to four inches of roots showing.

Since my mother’s plan to buy my father a crappy car fell through she is in a bad mood.

We will just say, I am not getting the truck.

I spent four hours non-stop cleaning and cooking trying to have her in a good mood when she got home since Dad decided he wanted to save up more before going car shopping and I knew that would upset her.

My cleaning that was started hours before she got home was in her way of her putting down her garage sail finds and groceries.

Me offering her food made her upset and grouchy.

Asking if she wanted me to fill up her Pepsi cup sent her for a loop.

You cannot be nice to this woman, I swear.

It was expressed once again that they (my mother, really) are upset I am not seeking school, work or a doctor.

I can’t see a doctor because I do not have a car to go to the appointments, nor do I have the money for the appointments.  The majority of the last three months I have to without food and other necessities (I had to beg for tampons twice now) because I do not have the money to buy my own.

I cannot get a job because once again I do not have a car to actually get to and from nor do I have the imperative mental and emotional stability to be able to function in a work place since I cannot get to or pay for medical assitance.

I do not have a car because this family is entirely “you’re on your own”. Everything, from reading, washing your hair,  how to drive a car or cook your dinner because what they make, makes you sick – you have to teach yourself. Well.

I had to teach myself.

My brothers all had multiple cars given to them. College funds they chose to spend on not college. My mom and dad took turns teaching them how to drive and taking them out so they could practice.

I sound so whiny reading this over.

I am just hurt, I guess. I feel like the entire stack is against me and is going to fall over into a mess anyways.

Every day I have multiple panic attacks and thoughts of why bother? Absolutely and truly, why bother?

Why bother going to the doctor when they all say they can’t help me or that I don’t ‘seem’ sick simply because I am “articulate and sociable”.

Why bother looking for work when all it will do is compoud my illnesses and further my depression when I fail?

Something about me makes people dislike me. I ask everyone, ‘what am I doing wrong?’ I am polite, I always did my job well and apologized when I did not do well. I was always on time and offered to stay late and take shifts for those that needed to give them away.

And yet I always get pulled for discussions. When I would ask aboyt furthering my position in the company, ‘maybe not right now.’

Everywhere I go.

What the hell am I doing wrong?

After my family history and the issues at work I question everything I say and do.

If someone doesn’t respond to me, it breaks me down.

I curl up on my bed and cry.

Though to be honest even if I am talking to people I will probably still be curled on my bed crying between messages.

Now, I am fighting with every core of my being to not let Mike know what is going on in my head. I am terrified if he learns just how screwed up I still am, he will leave again. When he contacted me again, I was working and in therapy.

Now? I don’t leave my room. I don’t leave my bed.

The only people I talk to is my friend Michelle and Mike.

Today started with fighting not going right back to sleep. The rest of the day was fighting against the urge to take aspirin pm I have been holding onto.

I gave in about an hour ago.

My prayers are for sleep.

I have been wondering…

Standard

Where does the line for mental health lay? Where someone is excusable for their actions while under the influence of a mental disorder or illness and when does that allowance end?

Generally you forgive someone for sneezing on you possibly while they have a cold. It’s gross, it is nasty and an all around “Do Not Do”. But it happens if you are sick. You can only control it so much.

So episodes in relation to Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety or even hallucinogenic episodes from Bipolar Disorder or Schizophrenia to give a few as they personally effect me. Where do you give the person leeway for what happens and where they are expected to simply not.

I guess that is a big debate with say the Sandy Hook shooting and Aurora, Colorado shootings. Obviously both perpetrators were very mentally ill but there is zero sympathy. Please don’t be confused, I am one that feels their mental health is no excuse but nor do I entirely believe that their disorders were the main reason behind their actions.

I know none of this really makes sense but mental health and its interactions with societal concepts fascinate me. This has really been on my mind.

Last night I made the mistake of reading about the Nanking Massacre and Unit 731. While I do not believe these atrocious acts should not be hidden, I really wish I hadn’t read about them.

CAUTION

The content of the articles linked is extremely graphic in nature with plenty of photographic evidence for even the skeptics. Decide if you want to read them at your own risk. I’m not joking.

I have this bad habit. I know I am essentially a light weight when it comes scary things. It does not take much to terrify me. Well, I guess when you walk around seeing demons and monsters every where you that “it isn’t real, they can’t hurt you” factor that is counted on to not traumatize you is sort of null and void. Anyways. Scary movies. Books. I know I cannot have anything to do with these things. And I usually don’t. I don’t watch the movies. I don’t read the books.

…but I do go on Wiki and read the hell out of the pages.

I have a compulsion where any and all questions have to answered and of course the more questions I get lead to more answers which leads to a never ending cycle of questions. And I absolutely have to know. Sometimes fighting this urge is worse than just giving in.

It was like a train wreck reading about the massacre. I spent the next ten hours hallucinating about what I read. And whenever I closed my eyes instead of seeing the events, I would feel them. Smell the decay of the bodies. Taste the blood in the air. Feel the terror in my pores.

Most people believe hallucinations are only what they see. That it is like dreaming, you are only seeing and not really experiencing. I can assure you. You can experience hallucinations more immersive than the latest virtual technology equipped with a scent chamber and even a little air gun for your first person shooter games.

If I dwell too much, I am sent straight back into what I read.

Thar lead to me thinking what makes it okay for people to believe they can treat another thing like this. I’m quite soft hearted so if I didn’t like bacon as much and have such weak willpower I would be a vegetarian. But to do this to another animal or human being?

Babies were ripped from their mother’s womb as they were being raped and the fetuses were stabbed with bayonets and tossed aside. Children were literally cut open to be raped. People were buried alive. The numbers depending if you are talking with Japan or China vary anywhere from between I think either 20,000/40,000 to 300,000 people were killed in the Nanking Massacre.

Some of the people behind the initialization of this war crime were tried and executed but the main perp was granted full imunity and had entire deniability due to his relationship in the imperial family. I mean, John Rabe, a member of the Nazi party (I only skimmed his page regrettably. I can’t remember if he was relatively high ranking within the party or not) was credited to possibly saving more than 250,000 lives with his actions. If I am wrong on the number forgive me. This is a last effort to flush the information from my mind after doing my best to forget and repress for the past 18 hours. I mean, if the Nazis are saying what you are doing is wrong to non-aryans…?

Unit 731 conducted medical experiments even worse than Mengele’s in my opinion. The Nazi experiments seemsled to have been simply much more documented and almost proud (the scientists themselves) of their discoveries and work. Japan was much more protective of their findings as from what I read I believe the Nazis were looking for ways to treat their own soldiers in a majority of their published experiments while the Japanese were seeking to just fuck with the human body. Neither used anesthesia. Japan removed the stomach of a person to connect their esophagus and intestines to see what would happen. Just. Why? How does that help their efforts? Other than the doctors own curiosity and the best way to torture and destory a person and population.

People.

They created a bleeping flea bomb filled with bubonic plague carrying fleas to drop in China.

In the end unlike with the Doctor’s Trial, the people behind Unit 731 were granted full imunity as the USA wanted to utilize what was discovered and keep it out of Soviet hands (according to wiki so bear with me).

While in actuality, I wanted any and all information they had procured destoryed, I still wanted them all to pay. You can’t do that. It is horrendous and just…

I’m going to be having nightmares for a long time about this.

What are your thoughts on the responsibility of those with mental illness?

EDIT
I was not taught this in school beyond a brief mentioning of Mengele. My school was more focused on FCAT scores so we worked almost entirely out of workbooks that did not hold much.

Drafted and posted using my Samsung Galaxy SIII. Please do forgive any typographical errors. Especially towards the end here. My right hand was going numb for holding the phone for the last hour asn I typed. Whoops.