Monday, January 25, 2010

How I Get This Out Of Me - or - Where Is The God Damn Bleach, Cause I'm About To Leave Some Stains

I can feel my heart beat in my forehead. My eyebrows won't relax, they are locked in a scowl. My lips are closed air tight, my nose is whistling with every fast breath I take, and I feel like I'm giving everything the evil eye; my keyboard, that globe in the corner, the computer screen, my lamp, the fridge, these candles, that cactus next to window, the framed picture of my family, that pile of instruments, the whole fucking world. The funny thing about perfectly shitty days is that, just when you think it might be over and you can finally breath a sigh of relief, there is always that surprise bucket of shit that someone you don't expect, someone you might lean on in better times, gets to hurl at you. And it always hits you square between the eyes at the exact moment you think it's clear to open your mouth and take a breath of non-shitty air. Fuck that. I'm done with keeping it to myself, bring on the outward rage, I don't fucking care. Judge me if you want but I need to be pissed right now. And I am. Here is the last two sentences of the nearly five pages of bile and hate and venom that I just got out of me.

"If this is the way you want to act, I already know that I’m better off without you around, so keep lying low and blaming me. I should have taken my own advice and stayed the hell away from you."

Maybe I'll regret this in the morning when I don't see red. Right now, I'm holding it as proof that I'm alive. This is what happens when I think I'm getting pissed on. This is what happens when I don't say what is on my mind. This is what happens when I know I've got to find some bigger changes in life. This is anger management.

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