Serial demolisher

I feel an intense desire to throw things out.

I'm kind of afraid, that after all these years of burying all this resentment, anger, frustration etc, that now? NOW? I'm might just seriously lose my mind - again - only this time, it'll be less Laying In The Closet Crying My Eyes Out, Feeling Invisible, to feeling So Fucking Angry I Might Break Every Piece Of Glass I Can Lay My Hands On.

I had a fabulous day - so it's not like anything specific set me off - and yeah, I could assume that some of it is simply PMS, rearing it's ugly, bitchy head, but honestly, deep down where I've hidden nearly all my "real" feelings? I think is a volcano about to erupt.

Sure, I've known my "editing pool" has been low....I've said things that have brought my Polite Argyle Wearing Me to my knees inside, wondering who on God's great green Earth is that woman over there losing her marbles because someone forgot whipped cream on her latte, or cut her off in traffic - suddenly?

I'm really fucking angry.

I wish I still took kick boxing - I may have to, because the swearing has gotten out of control, at least in my head (and sometimes not), I find myself saying things out loud I'd never have been caught dead saying before - while some liberation is a great thing? Too much is......dangerous.

I started with breaking the mugs that I'd had since God only knows when; plates I don't like, a hair brush I was tossing anyway - but it's not helping. It's not making a dent. That guy? Who was SO mean to me before? I want to grab him and shake him til his teeth shake - which would be really hard, as he's such much bigger than I am; and that bitch that was in on it with him? Yeah, well, I've some thoughts there too.  Sadly, telling her off won't work, she has the vocabulary of a gnu; very little satisfaction in that. She's not worth going to jail over; I drove home, after this AMAZING day! and it slammed into me, like walking into a wall of humid summer heat in Boston, in the dead of July, after being in the air conditioning. Everywhere sweats, hair sticks to you, clothes feel too tight - so hard to breathe - for no reason.

What I'm getting at, is this is why I don't DO really angry - Hollow Victory, and, I don't really feel any better. There's still no closure. There's no one else to deal with all this shit, no one to accept their part of the blame other than me -

And I'm scared, that if I'm this angry, that at some point? I'll say something that I can't take back, that will be so hot I'll burn my own tongue, which no apology can take back. Or I'll break my hand slamming it in to the wall, the garage door, which I already hit with the car, and my mom nearly had a coronary when she saw it. I blamed it on the  guys that plow. What, like she's going to know?

I'm angry I'm single, and alone, and facing a life of morning after morning dealing with the never ending Getting Ready Battle, the Get Out Of The Dog Bed, Strop Dragging It Around The Goddam Floor Fight, and the fact that at the end of every day? The only one to hug me goodnight is me. I'm angry B couldn't get his shit together for me, or for his little guy; that my family is.....my family; that M left me when I needed him, said horrendous things - and I NEVER WENT WHERE I COULD HAVE BECAUSE I CAN'T DO THAT TO HIM! I'm so pissed that the only one to put away the clothes is me. That I always take out the trash, take the trash away from the dog, that I'm the only one who worries when there are funky noises at night. I'm SO ANGRY that M has the balls to tell me to get MY shit together, but he won't do the work on HIM so that WE can be together, and he's not such a selfish prick.

More than anything? I learned that while I can stand up for anyone else, I CANNOT STAND UP FOR ME - and I HAVE to. That Pucker digs at my couch. That I have to tell Fox everything FIVE times for him to do anything and there is NO BREAK for ME when I get home. I can't even pee without him and the dog at the door, needing something, anything, his feet smell like his dad, suddenly everything he does, from hounding me to yanking at me is like his dad  - this is NOT the family I planned. It's not what I wanted.

I'm mostly angry, with me.

Because I still don't want to feel it, I don't want to be angry, or sad - I just want to be. I don't want to feel anything. It's safer, and I'm big on safety - because really, at the end of the day? If I'm this angry today, what if it's worse tomorrow?

What if I turn into this nasty, bitter serial demolisher who takes out other peoples kitchen counters with sledge hammers, destroying anything in my path? Appliances, who've done nothing to me shattered to bits by a rage so great it can't be measured on the Richter scale.

See? This is why I bury all this stuff so far down. It makes me ugly, and unlovable, to know that I'm so pissed that I couldn't even stand up for myself, to make someone else remember me, to do anything other than hide. EVER!

Christ, I was warned, one day, I'd wake up pissed.

Fuck me.

It's today.