I'm feeling more melodramatic than usual. Fair warning.
I've always been a person that wakes up in the morning to a life already lived. Call it a profound sense of "been there, done that" if you will. Only......
......I haven't "been there" or "done that".
Quite honestly, I haven't done much of anything in my relatively short time in this world.
Still, I wearily open my eyes, like a dying 90 year old, stiff and sore from all the years of hard work and living reluctantly endured.
I literally forget some times just how old I'm not. I'm n ot 90. Not even close.
19.
I haven't even been alive for two whole decades. I didn't see the civil rights movement, or live through Vietnam. I didn't have to witness the horrors of eighties fashion. I'm not even old enough to have appreciated Nirvana until long after Cobain died.
I can't even legally buy a beer.
Yet still I'm weary of it. An "it" I haven't even really e x perienced.
I'm not looking for fulfillment, happiness, or hell forbid, a way out, but really.....
....a little mental caffinee would be just fantastic.
Go me.
Looking up from a dark abyss, unto a world doomed...
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Had a bit of a violent argument with The Brat the other day.
Usually, I'm not one to be pulled from apathy into anger. With good reason, mind you. Apathy has been a carefully honed state of avoidance from the violent rages of my younger years. It takes quite a bit to make me snap, but when I do....I snap.
Which is why my younger sibling's door now has a large crack down the middle, from my fist.
All blame can't be placed on said sibling for actually causing the outburst (a good deal of it, but she doesn't deserve all the credit). My mood was already vile from a night at work with a particularly irritating supervisior (read: Not really a supervisor. He just pretends he is.) I was more inclined to withold my temper at my place of employment where a violent decking would probably get me an afternoon's stay in some unsantiary cell, not to mention fired.
I have discounts to consider, people.
So instead, I haul my irritated shell home, only to hear the usual bitching and moanings of the She Beast and Brat. A few sharp comments on my part got the general idea of "leave me alone" (okay, more alone than usual. Heheheh.) across.
But then said Brat had herself a teenage hissy fit, and proceeded to call one of her friends and complain about me from behind her bedroom door.
*SNAP*
Enter a big display of overkill when I temporarily turn her door into a "U" shape with my fist, accompanied by some particularly nasty curses uttered at a volume I thought was lost many a year ago. Keep in mind, it's a solid wood door. Kinda lucky I didn't break my hand, now that I think about it.
I've finally managed to fall back into numbness. Certainly a good thing, as any extended time of dramatically displayed emotions rather ruin one's credibility in the dark realms of the Apathetic.
At least I made her cry.
Apathetic and evil: a glorious combination.
Usually, I'm not one to be pulled from apathy into anger. With good reason, mind you. Apathy has been a carefully honed state of avoidance from the violent rages of my younger years. It takes quite a bit to make me snap, but when I do....I snap.
Which is why my younger sibling's door now has a large crack down the middle, from my fist.
All blame can't be placed on said sibling for actually causing the outburst (a good deal of it, but she doesn't deserve all the credit). My mood was already vile from a night at work with a particularly irritating supervisior (read: Not really a supervisor. He just pretends he is.) I was more inclined to withold my temper at my place of employment where a violent decking would probably get me an afternoon's stay in some unsantiary cell, not to mention fired.
I have discounts to consider, people.
So instead, I haul my irritated shell home, only to hear the usual bitching and moanings of the She Beast and Brat. A few sharp comments on my part got the general idea of "leave me alone" (okay, more alone than usual. Heheheh.) across.
But then said Brat had herself a teenage hissy fit, and proceeded to call one of her friends and complain about me from behind her bedroom door.
*SNAP*
Enter a big display of overkill when I temporarily turn her door into a "U" shape with my fist, accompanied by some particularly nasty curses uttered at a volume I thought was lost many a year ago. Keep in mind, it's a solid wood door. Kinda lucky I didn't break my hand, now that I think about it.
I've finally managed to fall back into numbness. Certainly a good thing, as any extended time of dramatically displayed emotions rather ruin one's credibility in the dark realms of the Apathetic.
At least I made her cry.
Apathetic and evil: a glorious combination.
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