Because I'm just so tired of you making your fucking assumptions.
Because I'm just so tired of you making your unsubtle insinuations.
Because I'm just so tired of you butting your nose in where it doesn't belong.
Because I'm just so tired of having you in my life.
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Fuck.
Can't you just let me live my life on my own? Is it too much to ask for you to believe that I can make my own decisions?
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Just. Let me sort my identity crisis out on my own. I can solve my own shit, thank you very much, and I don't need another goddamned person nosing around my business.
Whether I choose to run or stay and fight, it's really my choice, not yours. You do not control my life and the decisions I make.
Leave me alone. I need some alone time. Or do you not understand the meaning of that?
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I'm just really really really tired of everything. Why wasn't I sent the memo that I'd be plunged into a confusing identity crisis? Maybe I could've prepared better for its arrival then.
Sometimes I just want to crawl into bed, shut my eyes tight, and just see black. And black. And never open my eyes again.
But apparently, even asking to see black is a little out of my league. Seeing as how a bloody migraine bestowed on me flashes of every frickking glaring colour except black.
It's the middle of the night and my room is pitch black. I shut my eyes. And I see bright pink, yellow, green, aqua behind my eyelids, like I'm under a strobe light. I feel my
nose throbbing, my eyeballs too. Every minute sound, even the soft hissing of the airconditioner, echoes in my head like a cacophony of screeching crows. My brain feels like it's being compressed, pushed and prodded into a space too small to contain it. I hear the ringing of a bell in my head. My teeth fairly ache with the sheer agony of the intensity up there. I can feel every ridge of my palate, my tongue chooses this time to become ultra-sensitized, and I can feel the sting of every ulcer in my mouth, ulcers I didn't know existed. My mouth feels raw, and I can feel the rake of the devil scraping over my tongue, like I've eaten too many warheads. Except I haven't eaten warheads since at least two months ago, when Joshua dropped the warhead into the coke.
I can hear and feel every nuance of a screw being driven into my skull. The screeching of bone ground to dust. I
see a dull silver screw, huger than any I've ever seen, slowly twisting, and my nerves scream along. All I see now are the bursts of pink, yellow, green and aqua, all over again. The pain remains, though.
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That was not a lie. It was last night. The worst bloody headache of my life. I closed my eyes and couldn't find it in myself to be sleepy, to want to sleep. Yet I kept seeing the bursts of horribly colourful lights.
Last night was the singularly worst moment of my life. Though today might give it a run for its money.
Labels: rants
