Character(s): Justin Timberlake
Genre: Comedy, Alternate Universe
Warnings: adult language
Summary: Justin Timberlake is an autistic nineteen year old. He loves his dull monotonous job and Mickey Mouse, and hates Dustin Hoffman with a vengence. He likes the colours purple, white, blue and pink, but hates green. Lay aside all your expectations and read on, this is the diary of Justin Timberlake.
This story is not yet completed.
I fired my psycologist today, she was pissing me off too much. She hasn't a clue, thats her problem. I mean who the hell asks someone ''So what do you think you need to do to improve''? I mean isn't that why I'm here? If I knew, I'd change it. Duh. Why the hell does no one have a clue about my condition?
I'm supposed to be dribbling, I'm supposed to walk funny and talk funny, I'm supposed to be good at math. Ha. Ha. Hell, I can't even do my four times table. And its all Dustin Hoffman's fault, I swear. He made us all look stupid bar one sort of superhuman power. What the f*ck? Um... no way am I anything special, I ain't even smart enough to get a whole side of a rubix cube the same colour. Not that those things aren't fun (if not a little frustrating at times).
I work in an office cubicle talking to people on the phone, because everyone needs a new conservatory right? Well I always think those things are pretty neat, but of course there are always a few who don't. Like the lady who called me a southern c*nt. I didn't quite understand that, I mean your c*nt has to be the furthest down you can go, since if you went any further you'd come out the other side and up. Seriously, what's with the logic in that? Maybe she has it on her forehead or something.
I make good money too, and the coffee they sell here must have some sort of something in it, like someone put in ecsatsy or something because its drinking time is the only time people seem happy, and I don't get that. I love my job loads, like I said: I think conservatories are neat. I especially like lying on the floor and looking out the ceiling when it rains because it looks like its falling on you.
At work I have to wear a suit and I hate it but I like the colour blue. Its navy jacket and navy pants, with baby blue shirt and a Mickey Mouse tie. And on dress-down Fridays I wear my pink t-shirt and the ladies tell me they love it, but the guys laugh. I like pink though, its the colour of roses and turkish delight, although I don't like turkish delight because it tastes weird it still smells nice.
I live at home with my mom and dad in a medium size house with a front and back lawn. My dad works in a bank and my mom stays with me and helps me dress and I have no sisters or brothers. Theres also another lady that I live with who looks exactly like my mom but smells of Jack Daniels, but we don't talk about her unless its after when she comes visit. My mom says she loves me no matter what but the other lady who looks exactly like my mom told me that she hates herself so much because if she didn't smoke cannabis when she was pregnant with me I would have been born normally and she could actually be proud. It used to upset me because I sometimes thought mom wasn't proud of me or loved me, but dad came into my room afterwards and told me that he didn't feel that way, and the lady who said that wasn't my real mom.
Sometimes my life gets confusing like that, sometimes I need things explained time and time again, but I get it in the end. I'm just a regular guy, and if it wasn't for my weird curly hair you'd never pick me out from the crowd.
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