I'm psychotic. Not doctor diagnosed, mind you, but it's still true. I say that I mean what I say, even though I really don't. I never get mad about the big things, in fact I tackle them with grace and ease. It's the little things, like not having a towel when I get out of the shower, or cutting a piece of bread for my sandwich wrong that really piss me the hell off.
And if I was a hermit all alone in the woods, this behavior really wouldn't bother me that much. I can handle being mad at myself, I do it all the time. It's the people around me that I feel sorry for. They never know what mood I'm in, I feel like a damn ticking time bomb.
And then I get upset because hey, I'm human, I'm allowed to have feelings!
But you know what else those cheesy cliche's got right?
The fear of letting people close enough to hurt you. It's over used, and possibly mentioned at least three times in every chick flick, but it's inescapable. To be honest I don't even like to let my mom know what I'm thinking about certain things.
But, see, here's where I differ.
Instead of doing that strong and silent thing that you see in movies, where you just take the hits and pretend that the person isn't running over your feelings with a Mac Truck, I do something a little more special.
I throw a fucking fit. I realized that I'm the psycho girlfriend that gets mad about everything. I empathize with those girls now! I need an outlet for my feelings before I explode and damn if isn't soooo much easier to transform that hurt into anger.
example:
No, I wasn't worried and/or hurt that you were drinking at that party and then didn't think to call me...until two days after.
I was fucking pissed that you didn't even think to talk to me, and by the way, do you need an extra day to get that defensive story strait, asshole? Must have been some damn party.
That second one? That's me. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad that I'm like that, if I didn't directly jump into it. I put people on the defensive, because I'm immediately angry. I don't care what you have to say, why you did or didn't do something. You lost your phone? Borrow someone else's. You were gonna call? Shoulda Coulda Woulda. You're sorry and want to call me baby? Hellllll no!
And since I'm a poor girl who can't afford therapy, this blog has had to suffice.
