Bent Words

Bent Words

November 09, 2011

Something's not right.

That something feels like everything.

The high of simply surviving a tragic event has worn off. The should-be excitement of the new digs isn't very exciting. The thrill of doing something new in terms of a career isn't very thrilling now. And the perfection that was my relationship, my rock, my certainty... isn't so perfect, rock solid or certain anymore.

I feel as though all the good things have caved in on me, like a beautiful precipice simply disappearing into the ocean. One minute it's there, the next minute you've lost all ground beneath your feet. Where did all this high ground go? Where is the gorgeous scenery? What happened to my little perch on the top of the world? What happened to... everything?

What I thought "everything" was going to be has deeply disappointed me. My expectations have never been altogether too high but this is harsh.

This is like driving in rush hour traffic after you've just come down with the Flu when you're almost out of gas and have no idea on earth where the hell you even are or if you're even going the right way and then, suddenly, WHAM! you get sucker punched by a fucking snow storm that no one could have reasonably predicted; least of all your two-wheel drive, balding tires.

Well, maybe it's not that bad but it isn't great. Not as great as I thought it was going to be. Not as great as even my mediocre expectations reasonably predicted they'd be. Not as great as they should be.

And, you know, that's crap.

I'm the girl who can get through anything. Eventually I'm sure I will (get through this haze of WTF) but right now I'd rather piss and moan and frolic in the unfairness of it all.

But that's just it. I DID get through anything and everything. I just spent nearly a year doing exactly that. I thought I was done for a bit. I thought I was working toward all the good things, these important changes, that I deserve and that I finally GOT them. I thought that by me only seeing the positive in such a situation(s) that I would be rewarded. I thought I was going to be paid off for my valiant efforts at making things right. I thought my honesty and my will and my desire and my whole "put up with a big pile of shit with a grin on my face attitude" was going to pay dividends toward my happiness.

I thought I had such control over my adventure, my intended path here in life, and now it seems I'm not even on the right bus route.

What the fuck was all this patience for? What the hell did I do now to deserve such disdain? How did the innocence of my survival turn into "meh, not that big of a deal, yo."

So now my little savings of patience has been drained. My little stash of joy has been severely depleted. My bank of passion and excitement has dwindled down into nearly nothing.

I had turned all the fear, sadness, worry and doubt into absolute energy, resolute drive, eager determination and a bit of dancing and now it's gone.


Sucker punched in a snow storm during rush hour traffic with not enough gas and way too much Flu.

I suppose that ultimately I am in control, that I can be happy again, that I can regain my patience and ease.

But for right now, I'm FUCK YOU pissed off that anyone would want to take that away from me. It's not cool, not fair, not part of my plan and most imporantly, not deserved. Not for one quick minute. I'll say it again if I haven't already said it a million times... If you're not here to contribute to the overall wellbeing of my short existence, you can step right the fuck off. Put up or shut up. Make it hot or walk. Don't fuck with me.

Trust me, I know, there is really no room in life for Retaliation Station (eye for an eye and the whole world would be blind). But I barely got out of this last turn alive so you'll have to excuse me if I take this whole happiness thing to heart. You'll have to excuse the short fuse that is my willingness to again compromise EVERYTHING. I have worked SO HARD to make myself happy, reminding myself to remain being happy, to be positive, to seize opportunity, despite coming out with NOTHING. So if you're going to tamper with that negatively, you're probably not going to want to be around for the result.

I do have a tipping point, buddy, and you stumbled right onto it. You set off a fucking minefield. Explosions of distrust, disbelief, pain, humiliation, doubt and absurdity. All the things I chose to let go of when I lost all my things. Yes it still sucks that I blew up but you haven't been around for the MILLION times that I have not. All the times I've refrained from the anger of my situation, the pain of the recent past, the reality of my world. You took all that for granted, in my eyes, and made me look like a fucking fool. Not okay with that. FYI. You don't get to reduce or belittle or minimize all the work I've put into this past year. You don't get to decide if I'm happy or pissed or sad or confused. I already decided that the moment the flames were engulfing my entire world. I chose to act promptly and accordingly. I chose to be calm and concise. I chose not to lose it or be angry, doubtful, distrustful. I chose not to be complacent fool.

I STILL choose not to be the complacent fool.

But that was something I had no control over. That was something I couldn't end with a wave of my hand, a quick decision or a hopeful wish.

This I can end. With a mere wave of my hand, a quick decision, a simple wish.

Because I choose me before I choose you.

I invited you here because you made me happy. I invited you into my life because you held something in your heart which I believed in. I invited you here because I thought you were good. Not so you could just get whisked away with the rest of my shit.

So don't think for a minute that I'm going to risk that pain of loss again anytime soon. I've had my fair share for a few months. I know there's going to be more and that's fine. But we all have a tipping point. We all have a switch. We all have a bomb in our hearts waiting to explode on the next thing that tries to mess with our pursuit of glory. It's not an excuse, it's just the way the pickle squirts.

That's the funny thing about love.

It can all go up in flames before you can snap your fingers if you let it.

Written at 6:47 p.m.