I like to stand by my ideals.
- Think before you speak.
- Withhold judgement.
- Don’t litter.
- Always look at both sides of an argument.
But sometimes, I just wish that I could just shut the fuck up. I don’t have to be so calm all the time, I think to myself. I don’t need to refrain from speaking my thoughts. And I get a little twitchier. My footsteps get a little louder. You can hear a lot more slamming than usual. The mouse. The keyboard. The door. Whatever provides resistance – whatever won’t be permanently damaged.
I can’t even destroy anything properly. I know I’ll regret it later on – like it’s always a given. That I’m always going to “clear my mind up.”
Somehow, it makes me angry that I’ve accepted that. Somehow, it seems unreasonable.
It’s like I’m picking a fight with intangible things. Yes, I’ve gotten into a debate with myself. No, I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the things you do – how you always get so pissed off when you’re driving. I hate hearing you talk so much shit about the other drivers.
God damn. If only I could go one car trip without hearing you mutter under your breath, or curse someone out. They’re not fucking hearing you anyways, right? Or maybe you like that. You don’t actually want them to know, right? You don’t actuality want to fight; you just want to throw a few punches.
Come to think of it, I’m pretty similar. I don’t want to confront anything. I’m not going out to prove somebody wrong. I’m just out to prove that there’s another way of thinking – maybe. Maybe. You don’t have to listen to me – but if you do – it might be better. Maybe. It’s just a suggestion.
Just a thought. Just… sayin’.
I sound like such a pussy. I don’t like passive people. I don’t like people who tiptoe over issues. I don’t like complaints. I don’t like criticism. I don’t like quiet people. I don’t like shy people. I hate people who defend themselves through passivity.
You can tell, right? I pretty much hate myself, if I – actually, no. No ifs. We’re not going to have any if statements. We’re just going to set these variables.
- I hate myself.
- I don’t want to change myself.
- I’m always going to stick by my ideals.
Maybe – fuck. It always passes. My anger always fades. I’m never “always on the edge.” Five minutes. That’s all it is. Just a little outburst. A little struggle for control, a little chaos now and then.
It was like this a few hours ago. But not anymore. Actually, since writing this, I haven’t been angry. It’s just been a recollection. A very detailed recollection, by my standards.
Sometime, maybe I can write a little more while I’m angry. While I’m truly angry, and not when I’m not looking back at myself with this impenetrable aura of superiority. Heh.
As if “peace” is any better than expressing yourself.