From relief to rage


I just wanted to write a quick post, mainly for the purpose of my sanity. You may not know this about me, but I’m pretty sure I’m a future serial killer. I suffer with bouts of anger which I find extremely hard to cope with. This stress definitely doesn’t help my condition but it’s something I can’t control. Right now in my life, there are just so many things which make me want to kill the person next to me.

The funny thing is how quickly I can switch from blood red rage to untamed optimism. It’s a complete clash of emotions. Rather than ramble on and make this blog an even bigger piece of evidence to be used against me when I eventually snap and rip the face off of someone, I’ll just focus on two instances which have occurred over the last twenty four hours which highlight perfectly the highs and lows which my fragile psyche is put through.

[POSSIBLE MELODRAMA WARNING]

So last night, I used the self service at Asda to pick up some extra shopping and cashback. I subsequently forgot about the cash, left and walked home (five minutes away) to find that it wasn’t in my wallet. In a moment of sheer panic I felt a combination of sinking depression (Why always me?) and unadulterated fury at myself. This would be the perfect occasion for me to punch the wall multiple times and pull out the hair I have left.

I picked up the phone, scrambled for the number for the store and called them. To my absolute shock, I actually encountered a human being who could and was willing to help me. She said my money had been found by a colleague and I could run down to get it. When I had my £30 back in my safe grasp, I smiled and told the workers I couldn’t thank them enough for their honesty and integrity. I walked home in the snow genuinely laughing aloud to myself like a maniac. This was a moment which momentarily restored my faith in humanity and lifted another load of stress off of my shoulders.

After another night which flew past before my eyes, in a place I’m slowly starting to resent.

Fast forward to this morning. The gloss has well and truly come off of last nights good news. It’s freezing cold, I’m tired and I don’t want to be where I am. Where am I? Standing at a bus stop outside a block of flats for 40 minutes, while three scheduled buses choose not to arrive. I proceed to call the complaints line for the bus company (for the fifth time this month I’m sure) to let the girl on the phone know that I am going to kill a bus driver with an icepick if they keep fucking with me.

She kindly reassures me that my call “is very important” just like it was last time, and the time before that. What is important to me? Not a lot. I don’t ask for the world. I just want to get to work on time. I ask the girl, if I lose my job at the hands directly of her company’s incompetent service, will I be offered a similar role in their organization? OR will nothing change because I don’t fucking matter? It’s clearly the latter, she didn’t need to answer that.

The bus finally decides to turn up. I walk on slowly, giving the driver the best death stare I can possibly muster. I hope for his sake that he isn’t the one driving on the day when I finally snap.

I know this isn’t the thinking of a normal person, but I can’t help the way I feel and think. I don’t think I deserve to have to cut my lunch break in half to account for the time I’ve lost getting to work (due to no fault of my own) – That’s not a lot to ask.  I just want to be given every chance to not implode, but it just seems some people don’t want to give it to me. They will have to die, if this continues.

The next time I think I’ve had a stroke of luck. I’ll remember this: there is no such thing as luck. If luck existed, I’d have a moment’s peace to myself, I’d have a body that doesn’t try to sabotage me at any cost and I’d be able to deal with the ups and downs of life with a bit more calmness. I’m not lucky, there is no such thing. I’m destined to be furious, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Loathing

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