 |
Current mood:  devious
Fucking fuck fuck! It's time for me to lash out passive aggressively! (Hey, at least I'm not naming names, he he)
D'you ever just wish you had a murder button?
Of all people, my mother introduced me to the concept (I can't remember exactly how the conversation went but at times she's as joyously pro-apocalyptic as I can be!)
They say "live and let live" and I tend to go with that empathetic sentimentality. HOWEVER if I had a murder button I suspect that it's only a matter of time until I used it and there's only one ass hole I would use it on. Yup. Sir. E. Bob..... The (evil) Ex.
One particular ex tends to saunter between my temples in a slimy, oozy manner from time to time. It's been years and swathes of life since I've seen that shit (I really struggled with a word there, as I feel to use any insult of a sexual nature, such as fuck, cunt, etc, would be a blasphemy against the cus word rather than the turd in question.)
You try to put the negative emotions to bed - hate is not a healthy emotion, right? Any guy who has ever done me a disservice in the past has eventually seen my forgiveness, either in person or simply in my head to the extent that I wouldn't see red bloody murder if I ever bumped into them in the street.
This filthy stain upon the earth has however not yet earned anything even touching on forgiveness in my mind. Me, who sees the best in wankers, forgives and accomodates all... me who cannot possibly feel anything but fucking rage towards this bile mutant who......
Well, that's it isn't it! I think that the thing that gets me the most is that he took advantage of my generosity, my money, my forgiveness, while seeming to get a kick out of my weakness. Back then in those hazy grey days of my life I was wrestling with anorexia and lost my dad. I needed support. I felt like I needed love. But looking back, seeing that the somebody in your life encourages you not to get help, bullies you when you stand on your own two feet, thinks of themselves when you are at your most vulnerable (think insisting you leave before anyone else from your own fathers funeral when you are too distraught, exhausted and lost to say "No! I don't want to go with you! I want to stay with my family. My friends!")
I guess that I'm angry with myself for allowing myself to be walked all over. For saying "Yes, I'll pay both our rents, again." or "Sure, I'll pay off your debts while you borrow more." For buying a car or a pair of shoes for me, with my money, that wasn't the one I wanted because he said so. For allowing myself to be bullied emotionally, sexually... For seperating myself from my friends for fear of them seing through my own self applied blindfold. I'm furious with myself that I didn't think FUCK ME GET OUT! NOW, BEFORE HE DRAINS YOU FURTHER!
I should have seen the signs when he talked to his mother like she was some lowly sub-being. I should have twigged earlier, but I didn't because I thought I needed him.
Douche bag.
All the pent up rage! It swings from time to time between wanting to see that rotting corpse in town so I can swing at him, to feeling fairly chill and composed and able to do that whole "I'm doing much better now than I was back then. I don't know what I was thinking" thing, to living in fear that I might see him and feel humiliated and want to run away in pure self loathing at my own frail sensibility.
I have to point out (mid-rant) that this diarrhea skid-mark is not a person that crosses my mind often. He did today because I thought I saw his gay little boy-racer car (which I practically paid for) parked a few blocks from where I live and the toxic twist of emotions ripped up my stomach. To my credit, I didn't put my head down and scurry away but stood there hungrily gazing around, ready to unleash my fury. I haven't seen him since the day I kicked him out besides a time in the supermarket when I did scurry in the other direction, and so today in my moment and my fury I felt proud and ferocious, but also had the nagging sense that if he'd actually appeared I wouldn't have had a freaking clue what to do (I'm about as aggressive as a tipi in my normal state of mind)...
My husband says "I'll go knock him off on the quiet. Nobody'll ever know!" and I say "No! I can't condone violence." But something tells me that if I had a murder button, and nobody else was around....
BUT HEY! If there is such a device out there I doubt I could afford it, so:
Fuck you. I hope you live a miserable life. I hope your mother runs away with the postman to escape you along with your vile father and ungracious brother.
I wish you horrible suffering.
If that makes me a bad person..... I guess at least it makes me feel better as recompense
 | Currently reading:
Out
By Natsuo Kirino |
|
10:13 AM
Powered by  | | English | | Albanian | | Arabic | | Bulgarian | | Catalan | | Chinese | | Croatian | | Czech | | Danish | | Dutch | | Estonian | | Filipino | | Finnish | | French | | Galician | | German | | Greek | | Hebrew | | Hindi | | Hungarian | | Indonesian | | Italian | | Japanese | | Korean | | Latvian | | Lithuanian | | Maltese | | Norwegian | | Polish | | Portuguese | | Romanian | | Russian | | Serbian | | Slovak | | Slovenian | | Spanish | | Swedish | | Thai | | Turkish | | Ukrainian | | Vietnamese |
|