Scowl as if your blog depended on it...

Bleeding flames and damning hell.

Fuck, I am in such a bad mood.

It's one of those kind of general loathings so paralyzing, that you can scarcely blink, let alone stand up or swear outloud. One so deep that you can practically feel it in the core of your being, and you desire nothing more than to keep loathing forever.

It's a fine line I walk.

Half of me wishes to do nothing more than sit here loathing. The other half teeters towards raising hell on the next person to impede on my solitude. The Beast, for example. Every interruption, every question of what I'm doing is like the slow squeezing on the trigger of a gun. Heh. Not that I plan on shooting anyone.

Let's be clear on that.

But hitting? That is forseeable. Almost expected. Something I'd rather like to avoid, but it seems as though my surroundings are bent on annoying me as much as possible. Kinda like a blast back to the old days. Back in elementary school when I was a major menace when it came to anger management issues. Back before glorious apathy overcame me. And I wasn't your normal, screaming let's-cry-and-bang-our-fists-on-the-nearest-wall-like-a-pathetic-moron kinda angry kid. No...I had this look. This absolute look of burning hatred coupled with utter silence. Sure, I might have ripped something apart, or smashed something, but there wasn't a word. A little eerie, in retrospect. Scared my teachers half to death.

One could almost feel bad for those special ed. teachers.

Almost.

Sympathy is hard to come by when you realize how messed up that whole system is. I don't think schools can even fathom the fact that perhaps they do people more harm than good. I've seen some of my old special ed. classmates.....you might say they're a bit on the extreme side of the permanent dork and social retard spectrum. It's not that they were ever retarded, but like me, apparently needed some type of "emotional education".

That's nice. Fuck a kid up in the head just because she won't smile, or have a normal childish temper tantrum.

But I think that's straying a little far from my original point, if I can remember what it was.

Kinda funny to think how I've ended up then. Ironic almost. Now days it is almost impossible to send me into rage anymore (severe annoyance, yes, but not rage). By no doing or conseqence of my previous education or whatnot, I've turned into an apathetic, antisocial, volunatry outcast. Oh sure, I'll plaster on that almost amused face for my family, and I'll force my voice out of that instinctual monotone for basic politeness when needed, but take them away and I'm as cold as stone.

And I like it.

I always hear about people being told to "break out of their shell" or to "heal" and become what society deems as normal. People don't seem to take into consideration that not everyone enjoys normalcy. Emotion is as appealing as diving into a pit of boiling acid.

Another interruption. Brat....the thin ice you tread on cracks. So very close to shattering....

I can't even muster up the ability to pretend to be nice. Hell, I can hardly speak. Really is like old times then. If someone calls me fire eyes (what they used to call me when I was truly pissed) I shall officially deem old me returned...even if it is just for a day.

Oookay...this is getting entirely too long winded. But do I really care? Not especially. It's probably better than brooding in my swealtering hot room.

And again, she interrupts. She has her back turned, so she obviously can't see my glare. I almost stood up. Bad sign. I don't particularly want to do that. But dammit...leave. me. alone.

Is that really so hard?

Solitude is a glorious thing. It's almost like meditation, even if when by yourself you're blaring music or watching TV. A certain kind of balance is maintained. A mental psyche kept stable. Some people need it more than others. Like me. I need it almost as much as I need air (or caffine... a pretty close comparison either way). The Brat doesn't understand this obviously. She's always pestering me to go to parties, or hang out with her friends older sisters blah blah and more pointless blah. It's as if she can't see the bold line between being to shy too hang out, and just finding the company of other people to be an intrusion on one's personal space. And it's not that I can be near other people...it's only when they notice me or try and interact that the disgust fully forms.

Heh.

I guess some of us really are born into the shadows.....