A face like thunder.
Are you okay?
If it wasn’t for Virgin I’d only have a ridiculous excuse for being a stroppy bitch today.
Face like thunder.
Protruding jaw. Grinding.
Officially pissed off eyes. The stare.
So maybe thanks should be given to Virgin for giving me a place to direct it.
Otherwise, instead of along with a vague sense of triumph I’d only have that deflated stupidity felt now that I’ve calmed back to neutral.
I do despise anger.
I’m glad that mine is learning it’s place and time — gone are the days it’s constant — but I find it so selfish. I find it repugnant. Anger angers me and that’s an issue. It twists my tits when it’s for some reason that’s a crick of my mind.
My biggest crick is a delay getting home. Once I have ‘home’ in my head that is where I am going. I am going home. I need to be at home. I want to be there. Why aren’t I there yet? Why are you stopping ME? I WANT TO GO HOME!
Cricks of my mind like these are not repugnant, I just thought I should clarify that I despise the anger they provoke.
As I sit here trying to find the positive in my stroppiness I think, ‘Hark at me! Being selfish.’
And then another part thinks, ‘Yadda yadda, who cares?’
Another, ‘Hypocritical selflessness, if I may.’
‘You certainly may and I agree. I am me after all.’
‘WHO YOU FUCKING DISSIN’? Fucking come up here and say it!’
‘Woo, macho man!’
‘Boo hoo, you won’a go home…’
If anger is justified then after it I don’t feel so stupid.
I don’t think, ‘I didn’t handle that expertly. I was a dick’.
I know these cricks of my mind can be uncricked.
I know that as strongly as I know there’s always a silver lining. You may have to look real hard because sometimes it’s tarnished, but it’s there.
There’s a tarnished positive somewhere.
There’s hope, I know, because I can feel it.
If you want to get a better picture of what I was like today, I was a stroppy little queen. I tamped my foot at one point. Right little princess. Proper martyr. If looks could kill.
Now, I can add in ‘idiot’.
I’m a fool.
I don’t do anything to help myself.
I can strop as much as I like but who am I stropping for? An audience? Is that what I need? Okay…