(grinds teeth) people.
That's all I'm going to say right now....
Head Nurse
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The Rage Cage
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I had neck pain before and it hurt. I took a nap to wake up to a seething pain on both sides of my body. Thank God I have a high pain tolerance otherwise I'd be crying in a corner. *And breathe* ...Also, I really need sex. Haha this didn't help, I'm coming back for you "Rage Cage.' *And breathe.....*
Gingerbread Lover
*Image removed by Rage Patrol* JUST SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UP, FFS!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! *Image removed by Rage Patrol*
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! *Image removed by Rage Patrol*
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
Ut incepit fidelis, sic permanet.
*** 
********************************CLICK THE BANNERS TO BUY THESE WILLY-STIFFENING BOOKS!********************************
*** ********************************CLICK THE BANNERS TO BUY THESE WILLY-STIFFENING BOOKS!********************************
CurlyFries
FFS!! This is NOT how the house looked when I left 4 days. WHAT! THE! FUCK???? 
Active Ink Slinger
It's simple really. Shut your fucking mouth. Just shut up. I've tried saying it nicely but I'm seriously thinking I need to break out the duct tape. Or staples.
Peace and quiet is nice. Try it sometime, instead of babbling on incessantly for hours about absolutely nothing at all.
I've already heard your stories 800 fucking times now. I do not need it repeated over and over. I am not that stupid or empty-headed or dim-witted that I cannot remember the time you nearly dropped the engine on your fucking head. (Honestly? I think you did drop the engine block on your fucking head, but that's just my observation)
Unlike you, I can hold a thought in my head for more than a minute. I can actually think! Without you telling me what I should think. Fucking dick.
You talk and gossip more than any woman I've ever met. And holy shit can you whine. You're a pussy bitch mommas boy. You're the poorest excuse I've ever met for a man. I can't get a word in edgewise, even if I wanted to. You just won't shut up long enough. I don't fucking know these people you're so adamant to tell me all about. So I'd rather not hear your gossip about them. I'm not like your whole stupid fucking family and judge these people before I've even met them. I am not that fucking ignorant. I'm a big girl and can make up my own mind about someone. Like you. And your fucking family. I'll do a happy dance and cartwheels the day I can get the fuck away from all of you fucking morons. I feel my IQ dropping when I have to stay in the same room with you fucking weirdos.
And No... It's not "stating a fact" when you scream at me. It means your useless punk ass can't handle me telling you when I try to explain to you why I would like some quiet.
Is it because I do it in a calm voice that it pisses you off? I've never seen someone get so angry because I want peace and quiet while I'm watching a show or talking with a friend.
Logic isn't your strong suit, is it?
I'm gonna show you anger one of these days when I staple your fucking hands to the table and duct tape your fucking mouth shut just so you can't make it sound like you're skinning a fucking cat when you "try" to sing and "play" the guitar while I have friends over or I'm on the phone.
By the way... I think your guitar would make excellent kindling for the fireplace. You fucking asswipe.
Peace and quiet is nice. Try it sometime, instead of babbling on incessantly for hours about absolutely nothing at all.
I've already heard your stories 800 fucking times now. I do not need it repeated over and over. I am not that stupid or empty-headed or dim-witted that I cannot remember the time you nearly dropped the engine on your fucking head. (Honestly? I think you did drop the engine block on your fucking head, but that's just my observation)
Unlike you, I can hold a thought in my head for more than a minute. I can actually think! Without you telling me what I should think. Fucking dick.
You talk and gossip more than any woman I've ever met. And holy shit can you whine. You're a pussy bitch mommas boy. You're the poorest excuse I've ever met for a man. I can't get a word in edgewise, even if I wanted to. You just won't shut up long enough. I don't fucking know these people you're so adamant to tell me all about. So I'd rather not hear your gossip about them. I'm not like your whole stupid fucking family and judge these people before I've even met them. I am not that fucking ignorant. I'm a big girl and can make up my own mind about someone. Like you. And your fucking family. I'll do a happy dance and cartwheels the day I can get the fuck away from all of you fucking morons. I feel my IQ dropping when I have to stay in the same room with you fucking weirdos.
And No... It's not "stating a fact" when you scream at me. It means your useless punk ass can't handle me telling you when I try to explain to you why I would like some quiet.
Is it because I do it in a calm voice that it pisses you off? I've never seen someone get so angry because I want peace and quiet while I'm watching a show or talking with a friend.
Logic isn't your strong suit, is it?
I'm gonna show you anger one of these days when I staple your fucking hands to the table and duct tape your fucking mouth shut just so you can't make it sound like you're skinning a fucking cat when you "try" to sing and "play" the guitar while I have friends over or I'm on the phone.
By the way... I think your guitar would make excellent kindling for the fireplace. You fucking asswipe.
Sarcastic Coffee Aficionado
seriously, man, I am not interested in playing that stupid fucking game.
highly irritated with the likes of you ... and YOU!
been there, done it ... like meeting that dumb fuck in a bar .... no thanks! I hate wasting my time!!!
highly irritated with the likes of you ... and YOU!
been there, done it ... like meeting that dumb fuck in a bar .... no thanks! I hate wasting my time!!!
???????????? !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
There is so much drama here! I'll be back when I know what to say.......
I'm back..... still no words.....
Back AGAIN!!! GODDAMMIT I think I'm almost done.
and again..... I wish I was angry instead of upset...it's worse... I need a REAL rage cage.. I need a real life....
There is so much drama here! I'll be back when I know what to say....... I'm back..... still no words.....
Back AGAIN!!! GODDAMMIT I think I'm almost done.
and again..... I wish I was angry instead of upset...it's worse... I need a REAL rage cage.. I need a real life....
Active Ink Slinger
Stinking Bishop cheese is truly repulsive.
Mazztastic
Dear Internet...
I love you, but you simply must let me sleep!
I love you, but you simply must let me sleep!
Scarlet Seductress
Quote by Dancing_Doll
May every breath you take today feel like a thousand shards of glass filling your lungs. May the memories of leaving me laying there that night infest your every waking moment like acid poured into a raw and open wound. You are a worthless pathologically narcissistic piece of shit without remorse or mercy or any shred of human decency. I regret stepping in and saving your life that day. It should have been your existence that was snuffed out instead. You fucking deserved it and more. And I hope it fucking haunts your days like an infection without a cure.
Well fuck a duck! Remind me never to piss you off Ashleigh
Mmm, let's see... 'Essex' bimbo's who use twitter hashtags in general conversation are FUCKING IDIOTS!!!
Heard a couple of them chatting in a cafe today.
Why? Why the fuck would you say, "...yeah babe, he was like soooooo over it! Hashtag desperate!"
You live in England, learn the fucking language!
I was tempted, but I put the fork down and walked away.
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
Gingerbread Lover
I'm "walking better"? I just spent ten fucking minutes trying to get out of the fucking bed, and another ten fucking minufes trying to go to the toilet without wetting myself! Yes, i am fucking walking better, because you didn't fucking watch me rolling around like a bloody.ladybird stuck.on its back trying to get up! And "Watch how much codeine I take"? Ffs! It's what the bloody doctor bloody well said, and if you hadn't noticed, I CAN HARDLY FUCKING WALK. I THINK I CAN BE ALLOWED A.FEW.DAYS ON.IT SO I CAN WIPE MY OWN ARSE, DON'T YOU?!
FUcking fuck fuck finking funking buggery bollocks shitting bastardy fucking OW!
FUcking fuck fuck finking funking buggery bollocks shitting bastardy fucking OW!
Ut incepit fidelis, sic permanet.
***
********************************CLICK THE BANNERS TO BUY THESE WILLY-STIFFENING BOOKS!********************************
*** ********************************CLICK THE BANNERS TO BUY THESE WILLY-STIFFENING BOOKS!********************************
Scarlet Seductress
Quote by Shylass
I'm "walking better"? I just spent ten fucking minutes trying to get out of the fucking bed, and another ten fucking minufes trying to go to the toilet without wetting myself! Yes, i am fucking walking better, because you didn't fucking watch me rolling around like a bloody.ladybird stuck.on its back trying to get up! And "Watch how much codeine I take"? Ffs! It's what the bloody doctor bloody well said, and if you hadn't noticed, I CAN HARDLY FUCKING WALK. I THINK I CAN BE ALLOWED A.FEW.DAYS ON.IT SO I CAN WIPE MY OWN ARSE, DON'T YOU?!
FUcking fuck fuck finking funking buggery bollocks shitting bastardy fucking OW!
Awwww
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
Her Royal Spriteness
Quote by lizzy94
Awwww
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
*blows whistle* read the rules! 10 yard penalty and a stern talking to for allowing cuteness in the rage cage! you have been warned hashtag i've got my eye on you, troublemaker
You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.
Active Ink Slinger
This is a bunch of BULL SHIT, Think Ill just put my pants back on & go home..
from whats been written I sure am glad that a couple of you are not pissed off at me..
from whats been written I sure am glad that a couple of you are not pissed off at me..
Scarlet Seductress
Quote by sprite
*blows whistle* read the rules! 10 yard penalty and a stern talking to for allowing cuteness in the rage cage! you have been warned hashtag i've got my eye on you, troublemaker
Rules shmules
Would I be forgiven if i'd been viciously attacked by that little fur ball moments after the photo?
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
Her Royal Spriteness
Quote by lizzy94
Rules shmules
Would I be forgiven if i'd been viciously attacked by that little fur ball moments after the photo?
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
only if you raged about it properly afterwards, although, you should probably go get that wound looked at first. besides, it's going to make it hell to post with only one hand hashtag keeping it real *giggle*
You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.
Scarlet Seductress
Quote by sprite
only if you raged about it properly afterwards, although, you should probably go get that wound looked at first. besides, it's going to make it hell to post with only one hand hashtag keeping it real *giggle*
Don't you bloody start as well!
Get enough of that hashtag shit at college
(whispers) Don't tell anyone but I'm getting really good at typing with one hand lol
Gingerbread Lover
Here is a fucking reminder of the rules.
(Unrelated rant) Knobheady buggery bollocks to it all (I do feel a bit better though). Get on a bandwagon and fucking stay on it, but I won't be fucking joining you, so fuck off!
Quote by sprite
Ok, LMB needed a thread to just rage. Here's the rules.
1) No directing your rage at other members - this is not UFC (sorry, Doll, but it's not!).
2) No directing your rage at the site. Nicola and the mods do an amazing job here and work hard at making it this wonderful and if you don't like it, leave. This is for stuff outside the site. Stuff that you just need to vent about.
3) let it all out about the little things or the big things. That ass who took your parking spot, getting the pink slip, being sick, getting dumped, all of it, just let it go here.
4) You are not allowed to tell anyone not to be angry, to calm down. We feel how we feel. Do not try to reason with the the rage. It needs to be let loose.
5) Don't censor yourself. Let it all out.
6) Be respectful of other peoples rage. Being bitchy in public is scary. Don't belittle anyone. Ok, have fun.
(Unrelated rant) Knobheady buggery bollocks to it all (I do feel a bit better though). Get on a bandwagon and fucking stay on it, but I won't be fucking joining you, so fuck off!
Ut incepit fidelis, sic permanet.
***
********************************CLICK THE BANNERS TO BUY THESE WILLY-STIFFENING BOOKS!********************************
*** ********************************CLICK THE BANNERS TO BUY THESE WILLY-STIFFENING BOOKS!********************************
Scarlet Seductress
Alright alright, so I'm shit at playing by the rules, what else is new. 
Ok, how about this...
So I'm not going to post the photo, because he is quite cute looking, but he's a little SOD!
This little bugger:
http://www.lushstories.com/lizzy94/images/58
Thought it would be great fun to have a rummage around my room whilst I was a college yesterday and TEAR THE SHIT out of my entire underwear collection!
I had some tasty sets in there (pun intended) and I came home to find pieces of them all over my fucking room!
I'm still missing a bra, fuck knows what happened to that???
Ok, how about this...
So I'm not going to post the photo, because he is quite cute looking, but he's a little SOD!
This little bugger:
http://www.lushstories.com/lizzy94/images/58
Thought it would be great fun to have a rummage around my room whilst I was a college yesterday and TEAR THE SHIT out of my entire underwear collection!
I had some tasty sets in there (pun intended) and I came home to find pieces of them all over my fucking room!
I'm still missing a bra, fuck knows what happened to that???
Artistic Tart
Fuck life.
Not only is that a great hookup website name but its how I feel. Fuck this life of mine, i really fucking hate it sometimes. Not in the way that I'm going to slash my wrists, swallow a bottle of pills, and listen to some depressing shitty music, but in the way that you fucking hate somebody in your life, but you're stuck with them because you love them. So fuck me, fuck this life I have, and fuck everything. Fuck!
You know why I didn't just say 'fuck my life'? Because those three words were fucking stolen by a bunch of rich tards from the whitebread suburbs that have nothing better to do than bitch about shit on twitter and tag it with FML. That's what legitimate gripes got reduced to: "OMG, I like so didn't expect that cute guy to take me to Applebees and the five-dollar cinema after I got soooo dressed up and stuff! FML" Fuck you for that trend. It's like "first world problems: the acronym". Go get some perspective, Caitlyn, or Hunter, or whatever the fuck your name is, there beside your "trying so hard to be clever" twitter handle.
How did this become rage against twitter? I fucking love twitter, I just hate half or more of the fuckers on twitter. Where was I? Oh ya...
Fuck life.
Not only is that a great hookup website name but its how I feel. Fuck this life of mine, i really fucking hate it sometimes. Not in the way that I'm going to slash my wrists, swallow a bottle of pills, and listen to some depressing shitty music, but in the way that you fucking hate somebody in your life, but you're stuck with them because you love them. So fuck me, fuck this life I have, and fuck everything. Fuck!
You know why I didn't just say 'fuck my life'? Because those three words were fucking stolen by a bunch of rich tards from the whitebread suburbs that have nothing better to do than bitch about shit on twitter and tag it with FML. That's what legitimate gripes got reduced to: "OMG, I like so didn't expect that cute guy to take me to Applebees and the five-dollar cinema after I got soooo dressed up and stuff! FML" Fuck you for that trend. It's like "first world problems: the acronym". Go get some perspective, Caitlyn, or Hunter, or whatever the fuck your name is, there beside your "trying so hard to be clever" twitter handle.
How did this become rage against twitter? I fucking love twitter, I just hate half or more of the fuckers on twitter. Where was I? Oh ya...
Fuck life.
Fuckety FUCK FUCK, 
Why didn't you trust your instincts? 
If somebody shows you who they are, believe them the FIRST time, even if you Don't WANT to believe it! And YOU thank you for nothing, you fucking FUCK We ALL have feelings you know, I must be fucking mad to even bother..
(please excuse my language but it was totally warranted)
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
Why didn't you trust your instincts? If somebody shows you who they are, believe them the FIRST time, even if you Don't WANT to believe it! And YOU thank you for nothing, you fucking FUCK We ALL have feelings you know, I must be fucking mad to even bother..
(please excuse my language but it was totally warranted)
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
Active Ink Slinger
*Image removed by Rage Patrol*
Artistic Tart
You know, here's the fucking problem with love- you can't control it. You can't control what you want, or who you want.
Oh sure, you can pretend you do. You can pretend that everything you desire in a partner is your own goddamn idea, and how smart you are, pretty girl, for figuring out what you want and going after it, and fuck everyone else who thinks its a bad idea, because this is what you want, right? That's the independent woman spirit, right?
Fuck that charade, it's all an illusion, this notion that we have power over our own desires, and ultimately, over our own fate. We don't control shit. And in that way, we're no better off than the girls in the old world who still have their marriages arranged for them. At least there's some transparency in that scenario, since both parties are equally powerless. And honestly, what's more powerful, parental authority or emotions? Answer: Parents kill their kids for insolence a lot less often than people become overwhelmed and kill themselves. The arranged marriage folks get off fucking light here; congratulations to you.
I've read here and elsewhere how biology dictates who we're attracted to. I guess all that shit is true, I don't know. I think I just accept it as truth because it mostly works out. The girls want the big, fit guys, the guys want the girls with the curves. Strong babies won't die, curvy bitches won't miscarry. Makes sense, right?
Well, fuck you, biology. Because reproduction doesn't have shit to do with actually coexisting with somebody. Let's even assume that biology dictates who we'll get the most out sex with. That still leaves, what, 99.5% of the rest of life with that person? Unless of course you don't live together, or especially if they're just a fuckbuddy. No wonder I have so much casual sex. I get all the benefits of a man with none of the pitfalls- at least that's how it seems when I'm in the middle of getting the benefits. But I know that's me just bullshitting myself. I'm pretty fucking good at that. Been doing it my whole life. What starts as a survival mechanism has evolved into a monster that outsmarts me. I get it right between the crosshairs and before I can pull the trigger to take him down, he's gone, and a moment later he's tapping me on the shoulder, just to taunt me.
I know better. I know I don't just want guys for a fuck. That's why I'm so fucking miserable. If all I wanted was sex, then I should be high on life, whistling showtunes and shit (assuming I knew any).
Okay, so what is it that I do want?
Hold on to your hats folks, because here's where you learn just how fucked up crazy I am: I want movie/tv characters.
I didn't realize that's what I wanted until just now. But hear me out here, this is how I got there:
What I do now is what I've done my whole life. I watch movies, tv, and sometimes read books, and that's my way out. I can go to that place, through the wormhole, and the real me is in suspended animation while I'm in that other pretend place. Problem is, when I exit that place, I bring parts of it with me. I want those things for myself. I want one dimensional non-complex displays of brawn, warmth, and calm. I want Vin Diesel. I want Channing Tatum from The Vow: strong but kind, funny, artistic but no less manly, fights for what he wants (especially since in that movie, what he wants is a woman. also, that movie fits because she suffers amnesia, and oh how jealous I am of her sometimes. Do you realize just how much of my own life I'd rather fucking forget about? Her predicament has merit, if you ask me). Don't get me wrong, the movie's not that good, but images stick with me.
And it doesn't stop with men. I want the same for myself. I want to be the sexy, mysterious character that always keeps her cool, except for the few times that she rages, when she's completely justified and wreaks unholy havoc in almost poetically efficient ways.
But I'm not that way, and neither is the man that I love, who I have no choice but to love.
I lose my fucking cool all the time. I scream, I rage, I throw things, I hit. I'm a fucking basket case, a lot. And he- the guy- he's not Channing Tatum. He's not artistic, or even that conventionally handsome. He's got scars, inside and out. He doesn't always keep his cool, either. For a fighter, he chooses not to fight more than I'd prefer, and the less happy we both are, the less funny he is, of course. But I do see flashes. There are moments where we're happy together, where we laugh, where all is well, and all feels 'right'. These are my movie moments. Where he becomes that character I want him to be, and I become his.
Okay, that's me bullshitting. I don't think he wants a character. He's thankfully not fucked up in the same way. He just wants a non-crazy version of me. Good luck with that, buddy.
I know love exists, because I'm stuck with it. And it's the most intense feeling of overwhelming care and total loss of control. I don't know why I love him, really- and that's not the knock on him that it sounds like, it's just that biology aside (big, fit guys 'do it' for me), I don't know how we got here.
I didn't love him when he knocked me up. That wasn't supposed to happen. But he cared about me, and set about to take care of me to the best of his ability, and at a certain point, I realize that I really do love him. Scars, flaws, shortcomings and all- I love the motherfucker. And since that day, through the birth of our son, through our marriage ceremony, through our separation, all the way up to the present time, with me living in a strange neighborhood with barely a physical vestige of him anywhere in this too-big-for-my-stuff shell of a home, i've never stopped loving him.
I just wish it was easier.
(by the way, if you're wishing this was 'ragier' right now, then fuck you. I've got rage to spare, and am a burning cauldron of it as we speak. Just because I don't throw a bunch of caps and exclamation points in, doesn't mean I'm not expressing rage amongst other emotions. Goddammit.)
I'm so fucking angry that I am who I am sometimes; that I can't control anything around me. That I want the things I want. Sometimes I think I want too much in every facet of my life. I don't just want some money, I want more! I don't just want occasional sex, I want it all the time! I don't just want to be happy and harmonious occasionally, I want a lifetime of it.
That last one's the dead giveaway- that I want characters for partners, movie relationships for love, with a distinct happy, then conflict, then resolution into the happiest goddamn contentment you can possibly imagine, all fit neatly into a little drawer. Reality is too much. That's why I'm on Paxil. That's why I rage like a fucking child. That's why I'm always unhappy. Because apparently the struggles of a real relationship, the one I still sort-of have, are too much for my corrupted brain. I don't want a real relationship, I want a fake one apparently, and of course, I can never have what I want because of it.
I'm always going to be fucked up. He's never going to be anything different from what he is. Maybe this is why I sometimes like depressing movies, because it balances shit out for me. It helps me to find normalcy and ways that aren't fake and super-ideal. Maybe I can aspire to be like flawed characters, to want to be with flawed characters.
I remember when life for me was sort of like a movie. We laughed, and cuddled, and swooned over our newborn. We had good friends, and appeared to want for nothing. Sexy girl, ripped daddy, happy little couple.
I just realized, I'm in the part of the movie where everything has fallen to pieces.
See? I'm still doing it.
Surprise! I'm in therapy!
Oh sure, you can pretend you do. You can pretend that everything you desire in a partner is your own goddamn idea, and how smart you are, pretty girl, for figuring out what you want and going after it, and fuck everyone else who thinks its a bad idea, because this is what you want, right? That's the independent woman spirit, right?
Fuck that charade, it's all an illusion, this notion that we have power over our own desires, and ultimately, over our own fate. We don't control shit. And in that way, we're no better off than the girls in the old world who still have their marriages arranged for them. At least there's some transparency in that scenario, since both parties are equally powerless. And honestly, what's more powerful, parental authority or emotions? Answer: Parents kill their kids for insolence a lot less often than people become overwhelmed and kill themselves. The arranged marriage folks get off fucking light here; congratulations to you.
I've read here and elsewhere how biology dictates who we're attracted to. I guess all that shit is true, I don't know. I think I just accept it as truth because it mostly works out. The girls want the big, fit guys, the guys want the girls with the curves. Strong babies won't die, curvy bitches won't miscarry. Makes sense, right?
Well, fuck you, biology. Because reproduction doesn't have shit to do with actually coexisting with somebody. Let's even assume that biology dictates who we'll get the most out sex with. That still leaves, what, 99.5% of the rest of life with that person? Unless of course you don't live together, or especially if they're just a fuckbuddy. No wonder I have so much casual sex. I get all the benefits of a man with none of the pitfalls- at least that's how it seems when I'm in the middle of getting the benefits. But I know that's me just bullshitting myself. I'm pretty fucking good at that. Been doing it my whole life. What starts as a survival mechanism has evolved into a monster that outsmarts me. I get it right between the crosshairs and before I can pull the trigger to take him down, he's gone, and a moment later he's tapping me on the shoulder, just to taunt me.
I know better. I know I don't just want guys for a fuck. That's why I'm so fucking miserable. If all I wanted was sex, then I should be high on life, whistling showtunes and shit (assuming I knew any).
Okay, so what is it that I do want?
Hold on to your hats folks, because here's where you learn just how fucked up crazy I am: I want movie/tv characters.
I didn't realize that's what I wanted until just now. But hear me out here, this is how I got there:
What I do now is what I've done my whole life. I watch movies, tv, and sometimes read books, and that's my way out. I can go to that place, through the wormhole, and the real me is in suspended animation while I'm in that other pretend place. Problem is, when I exit that place, I bring parts of it with me. I want those things for myself. I want one dimensional non-complex displays of brawn, warmth, and calm. I want Vin Diesel. I want Channing Tatum from The Vow: strong but kind, funny, artistic but no less manly, fights for what he wants (especially since in that movie, what he wants is a woman. also, that movie fits because she suffers amnesia, and oh how jealous I am of her sometimes. Do you realize just how much of my own life I'd rather fucking forget about? Her predicament has merit, if you ask me). Don't get me wrong, the movie's not that good, but images stick with me.
And it doesn't stop with men. I want the same for myself. I want to be the sexy, mysterious character that always keeps her cool, except for the few times that she rages, when she's completely justified and wreaks unholy havoc in almost poetically efficient ways.
But I'm not that way, and neither is the man that I love, who I have no choice but to love.
I lose my fucking cool all the time. I scream, I rage, I throw things, I hit. I'm a fucking basket case, a lot. And he- the guy- he's not Channing Tatum. He's not artistic, or even that conventionally handsome. He's got scars, inside and out. He doesn't always keep his cool, either. For a fighter, he chooses not to fight more than I'd prefer, and the less happy we both are, the less funny he is, of course. But I do see flashes. There are moments where we're happy together, where we laugh, where all is well, and all feels 'right'. These are my movie moments. Where he becomes that character I want him to be, and I become his.
Okay, that's me bullshitting. I don't think he wants a character. He's thankfully not fucked up in the same way. He just wants a non-crazy version of me. Good luck with that, buddy.
I know love exists, because I'm stuck with it. And it's the most intense feeling of overwhelming care and total loss of control. I don't know why I love him, really- and that's not the knock on him that it sounds like, it's just that biology aside (big, fit guys 'do it' for me), I don't know how we got here.
I didn't love him when he knocked me up. That wasn't supposed to happen. But he cared about me, and set about to take care of me to the best of his ability, and at a certain point, I realize that I really do love him. Scars, flaws, shortcomings and all- I love the motherfucker. And since that day, through the birth of our son, through our marriage ceremony, through our separation, all the way up to the present time, with me living in a strange neighborhood with barely a physical vestige of him anywhere in this too-big-for-my-stuff shell of a home, i've never stopped loving him.
I just wish it was easier.
(by the way, if you're wishing this was 'ragier' right now, then fuck you. I've got rage to spare, and am a burning cauldron of it as we speak. Just because I don't throw a bunch of caps and exclamation points in, doesn't mean I'm not expressing rage amongst other emotions. Goddammit.)
I'm so fucking angry that I am who I am sometimes; that I can't control anything around me. That I want the things I want. Sometimes I think I want too much in every facet of my life. I don't just want some money, I want more! I don't just want occasional sex, I want it all the time! I don't just want to be happy and harmonious occasionally, I want a lifetime of it.
That last one's the dead giveaway- that I want characters for partners, movie relationships for love, with a distinct happy, then conflict, then resolution into the happiest goddamn contentment you can possibly imagine, all fit neatly into a little drawer. Reality is too much. That's why I'm on Paxil. That's why I rage like a fucking child. That's why I'm always unhappy. Because apparently the struggles of a real relationship, the one I still sort-of have, are too much for my corrupted brain. I don't want a real relationship, I want a fake one apparently, and of course, I can never have what I want because of it.
I'm always going to be fucked up. He's never going to be anything different from what he is. Maybe this is why I sometimes like depressing movies, because it balances shit out for me. It helps me to find normalcy and ways that aren't fake and super-ideal. Maybe I can aspire to be like flawed characters, to want to be with flawed characters.
I remember when life for me was sort of like a movie. We laughed, and cuddled, and swooned over our newborn. We had good friends, and appeared to want for nothing. Sexy girl, ripped daddy, happy little couple.
I just realized, I'm in the part of the movie where everything has fallen to pieces.
See? I'm still doing it.
Surprise! I'm in therapy!
Holy shit!!!! Spent the morning working on a fucking washing-machine. It is amazing how seemingly simple shit can be a total pain in the ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Of course it does not help that I am not the smallest guy in the world, and have to do most of it laying on the floor.... wet from residual water in the machine. So..... after all that mess and pain, cut up fingers, and kinked neck... it is ready for some parts clean-up and putting it back together.
What is even more messed up, is that now that I have been through it, I probably could do 3 machines in a half hour now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
What is even more messed up, is that now that I have been through it, I probably could do 3 machines in a half hour now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr