My inability to deal with the public, or people in general for that matter, isn’t really news to anyone that knows me. However, of late my anger levels have been spiking randomly and rapidly.
I’m perpetually short tempered and probably not exactly a hoot to be around. Kinda ranty most of the time to be honest. For example: I consider pushing the elderly out of the way if they clog up the queue in M&S during lunch; passengers on the bus annoy me simply by breathing or refusing to open windows thus turning the bus into a mobile furnace. Everything is ‘double standards’ to me right now, cause clearly fighting inequality is my new mantle. And don’t even get me started on those who gnaw on their food loudly, mouth open, in public. I’ve never wanted to bludgeon someone with a Big Mac so much in my life. Fuck knows how some people cope using a knife and fork.
And the rant continues: Asking customers how their day went and being ignored. Oh, ok, I’ll just go fuck myself then *smiles gleefully* Those who weep all over social media about ‘missing someone’ or how they are ‘sick of making the effort’ when there’s a catalogue of guys that have likely made the effort with them, been ignored and thus go on to tweet about missing someone etc. The cycle continues.
My life has hardly been a bucket of carefree chuckles but at the moment it’s like an apocalyptic playlist on repeat. If I’m not camply trumpeting about how angry I am, then I’m feeling bland, exhausted and defeated all the time. To the point that I probably resemble a robotic toe that’s teetering on the edge of a homicidal meltdown to anyone that’s having a conversation with me. Honestly brickwork conveys more emotion. I have the same range of facial expressions as a parsnip.
Things that didn’t phase me a few weeks’ prior now seem like the end of the bloody world. I feel like I’m in a jail cell and I have all these feelings and emotions that I can’t express so they morph into anger; which I also can’t express cause, well, I’d probably wind up in an actual jail cell. That said I’d probably get my hole. Silver-lining. So the anger simmers down to a lukewarm indifference and then I’m void of joy as I watch one harrowing crisis overlap another, showing as much emotion as a sucked out smarty. Topher Gen, facial-expression-avoider.
I’m going to try keep my anger in check until it subsides, except on the internet, where I’m already dishing out concurrent 140-character spurts of rage.