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nirix5Random fucking ranting.
I was okay today. That’s it, just okay, and usually that’s enough for me. Then, all of a sudden, I ran into some sort of mental wall –WHAM!- and that was it, and now I’m down for the count.
And so you get to read this lovely, lovely thing. Even if it doesn’t, in the end, make any sense.
All right. So my world feels like it’s falling apart. I think it’s the rain. Sometimes I like it. I like cloudbursts better- one big rush of storm and then it’s all over and the sun comes out. When the rain drags on it’s like the sky is having angst. I think I hate angst. It’s so… weak. Wussy, cowardly, pathetic, wretched, dismal, gutless, spineless, craven, and I’m putting the thesaurus down now.
There I was, microwaving manicotti for lunch cause I am just a sucker for anything cheesy like that, and I look over into the lunch room, and see this one picture. A very patriotic picture of the Statue Of Liberty with a caption that says “She Still Stands.” It’s been there every day since I started working there, so it wasn’t anything new, but… I don’t know. I just kind of looked at it and thought, “Fuckers. They’re stupid but they’re smart; the dilemma is, which one do you hit- the one with the most symbolism, or the one with the most people inside? Guess they made the smart move… why waste an airplane when the majority of it’s gonna just go in the drink, ha, ha.”
I really, really wish someone would take all the fucking 9/11 shit down. I so fucking sick to death of seeing it, day in and day out.
I like to pretend it’s not that much of an issue anymore. I mean, I got over it, right? It’s not gone, it’ll never be, but what was a giant, open sore has turned into scar tissue. At least that’s what I keep telling myself, but sometimes I wonder.
And Bill or John- not sure who- keeps putting up these stupid patriotic shrines and adding to them. I can’t stand it anymore. I’m going to lose it. Then Bill starts up with his goddamn Republican, dick-sucking, money-grubbing, power-hungry right wing propaganda. He’s a nice guy, very sheltered, and has no idea what the hell he’s talking about, and that’s driving me nuts too. Everything is driving me nuts.
I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I wish everyone would just shut the fuck up and forget about it. I wish it never happened. I pretend it never did. I want to stop having illogical crying jags because I’m stronger than that, dammit! I’m stronger than that. Cause I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I wasn’t.
I don’t know what the point in posting this is. I don’t know if I will. Or I might post it, and then delete it, or something, because when you put things down on paper (or monitor) for everyone to see it becomes more real. It hurts more. It’s having to admit that you’re weaker than you want to be. Because I can still hear Alta in the back of my mind, about three days later, saying, “What are you crying for? No one important to you got killed, so get over it.” And I want, so badly, to listen to her. I know she’s right. Get over it, Heather, already. Get over it, you stupid bitch. Ugh.
Planes crash into buildings and people put flags on the antennae of their cars. And then the whole shove-the-flag-up-people’s-asses thing isn’t in style anymore, so they let them ravel away in the wind created by going 65 mph down 690 to the mall. I hope your medical coverage gets revoked, your purebred dog gets diarrhea on your thousand dollar leather couch, and your stupid perfect children suddenly start to show their inbred, white-trash side, you stupid, over-tanned, SUV driving yuppie. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you and your stupid life and your stupid flag which you let rot in the weather.
I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so angry.
I think it’s the rain. The rain always gets me down.
I was okay today. That’s it, just okay, and usually that’s enough for me. Then, all of a sudden, I ran into some sort of mental wall –WHAM!- and that was it, and now I’m down for the count.
And so you get to read this lovely, lovely thing. Even if it doesn’t, in the end, make any sense.
All right. So my world feels like it’s falling apart. I think it’s the rain. Sometimes I like it. I like cloudbursts better- one big rush of storm and then it’s all over and the sun comes out. When the rain drags on it’s like the sky is having angst. I think I hate angst. It’s so… weak. Wussy, cowardly, pathetic, wretched, dismal, gutless, spineless, craven, and I’m putting the thesaurus down now.
There I was, microwaving manicotti for lunch cause I am just a sucker for anything cheesy like that, and I look over into the lunch room, and see this one picture. A very patriotic picture of the Statue Of Liberty with a caption that says “She Still Stands.” It’s been there every day since I started working there, so it wasn’t anything new, but… I don’t know. I just kind of looked at it and thought, “Fuckers. They’re stupid but they’re smart; the dilemma is, which one do you hit- the one with the most symbolism, or the one with the most people inside? Guess they made the smart move… why waste an airplane when the majority of it’s gonna just go in the drink, ha, ha.”
I really, really wish someone would take all the fucking 9/11 shit down. I so fucking sick to death of seeing it, day in and day out.
I like to pretend it’s not that much of an issue anymore. I mean, I got over it, right? It’s not gone, it’ll never be, but what was a giant, open sore has turned into scar tissue. At least that’s what I keep telling myself, but sometimes I wonder.
And Bill or John- not sure who- keeps putting up these stupid patriotic shrines and adding to them. I can’t stand it anymore. I’m going to lose it. Then Bill starts up with his goddamn Republican, dick-sucking, money-grubbing, power-hungry right wing propaganda. He’s a nice guy, very sheltered, and has no idea what the hell he’s talking about, and that’s driving me nuts too. Everything is driving me nuts.
I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I wish everyone would just shut the fuck up and forget about it. I wish it never happened. I pretend it never did. I want to stop having illogical crying jags because I’m stronger than that, dammit! I’m stronger than that. Cause I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I wasn’t.
I don’t know what the point in posting this is. I don’t know if I will. Or I might post it, and then delete it, or something, because when you put things down on paper (or monitor) for everyone to see it becomes more real. It hurts more. It’s having to admit that you’re weaker than you want to be. Because I can still hear Alta in the back of my mind, about three days later, saying, “What are you crying for? No one important to you got killed, so get over it.” And I want, so badly, to listen to her. I know she’s right. Get over it, Heather, already. Get over it, you stupid bitch. Ugh.
Planes crash into buildings and people put flags on the antennae of their cars. And then the whole shove-the-flag-up-people’s-asses thing isn’t in style anymore, so they let them ravel away in the wind created by going 65 mph down 690 to the mall. I hope your medical coverage gets revoked, your purebred dog gets diarrhea on your thousand dollar leather couch, and your stupid perfect children suddenly start to show their inbred, white-trash side, you stupid, over-tanned, SUV driving yuppie. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you and your stupid life and your stupid flag which you let rot in the weather.
I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so angry.
I think it’s the rain. The rain always gets me down.
