This thing is getting Waaay out of hand, even for me!

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Damn, this living my life through good and bad numbers is starting to cripple me! Merely half an hour ago, Dad took me to the local convenience store to pick up pizza for my brother. So after I bought his stuff and mine, including a 2-pack of Hostess cupcakes for myself, I walked back out to Dad's car, and I noticed that some snobby rich lady had parked immediately to the right of his car (the side I came out of).

This wouldn't have been a big deal...but the number on her license plate was a straight up 7-1-4...the WORST 3 digit number of all for me! It was the day in history (the 14th of July) that my father labeled me as a f**king thief! (read my 'I'm gonna put this as gently as possible' thread for more details) And what made it double damning was my DAD was the one taking me on the errand!

I couldn't exactly open up a can of Shaq-fu on myself via swearing or physical abuse because my dad was in the car with me, so I got quite physically ill to my stomach. But upon getting home, I did do the only possible fitting 'punishment' I could: I put one of those cupcakes I bought straight to the garbage bin without even taking a bite. *sighs*

I need a frickin' hypnotist to get this stupid, childish behaviour pattern out of me, because as long as my father is alive, Bastille Day and it's number equivalent will always gnaw at my soul...

(You know who this is by by now, heh)

That sucks.

You really do need to get some help about your whole "bad numbers" thing, it must be very distressing to freak out everytime a bad number appears.

PTSD?

Yes, I do...on top of OCD which is associated with numbers and patterns.

Well, thank you for your concern. And yes, when even *I* realize I need help, it must be bad. But then again, most of the offenders who originated those numbers are older then me, so I'll live longer then them.