Effed off

I am in a dark, angry, sick-of-it place. I’m smart enough to be able to explain why. Duh. Of course there’s a reason why. Several. It’s not a comfort zone for me. I like being happy, excited, bubbly, generous… all those pukey, cute things. But I can’t help it. It’s me – the nature I was born with. If someone reminds me today, though, I w-i-l-l punch them. It’s a bloomin’ affliction. I am childlike but far from childish. Oft naïve, but surprisingly streetsmart. Bottom line is: I’m not thick. Even though, right now, I wish I was.

The first thing I put on is music. I start with Disturbed, in particular ‘Down with the Sickness’. The apt band title is only a coincidence. I’d be easily convinced to have a tattoo or pierce my tongue right now. My friends wouldn’t believe this. Well, there you go. Not me, but VERY me right now. Angst needs a release when its vessel gets full.

I am sick of insincerity, hypocrisy, injustice. I am sick of lies and acts. I am sick of bad things happening to good people, and bad people thriving and relinquished of their badness without remedy. I am sick of being misunderstood, judged, and put into a box. I am sick of being invisible. I am sick of being an afterthought, obligation, third-wheel, piece of furniture, ego-booster, listener, function, people-pleaser, compromiser, tolerator and spectator. I am sick of not being in love. I am sick of too few ‘wow’ moments. I am sick of registering my age and comparing it with the fertility clock. I am sick of advice and giving it. I am sick of comparing, even when I’m not. I’m sick of being proud. I am sick of my acute intuition – it doesn’t often deliver good news. I am sick of waiting. I am sick of excuses, even when they’re self-created. I’m sick of someone else taking the credit for my sweat and tears. I am sick of people in leadership who don’t give a flying piece of dung about their people. I am sick of seeing unhappy, poor people travel the downwards spiral. I am sick of perfection and chocolate-box beauty getting all the attention and all the clemency. I am sick of seeing heartache, never mind feeling it, and being utterly helpless in its wake. I am sick of cruelty, spitefulness and egotism being admired and exempt. I am sick of some people getting everything, and others getting just less than something. I am sick of being a disappointed idealist. I am sick of all the psychology bull that explicates the shit.

The second thing I’ve just done. But this time I will publish it. Perhaps I’ll make someone feel not quite so alone. Some good must come of it.

Anger is at least constructive. Puffy tear-stained eyes versus a deep frown line? Jury is still out on that one. Either way, I have to feel through it to spend it. I know what I need to do. My gratitude ledger lies open for a re-read, and soon this mood will dissipate - as it always does. I need only reflect on the modest but valuable circle of people I have in my life. The rest of the world can stick pins in their eyes tonight. I am only going to love those who love me back from now on. And I am through with turning the other cheek. Henceforth I’ll be giving cheek where cheek is due. Why must I accept that which I see as wrong? Why must I be something I am not, when you are so clearly who you are?

I think it’s the insult of it all that bugs me the most. Am I supposed to say thanks for insulting me?

Don’t worry. I can blame it on sleep deprivation in the morning. Be grateful. I censored.

Now please excuse me while I find a passing train to scream at.