Well now. What to talk about.
I'm in the middle of an emotional upheaval. Whether or not men admit it, they are prone to cycles just like a woman is. I may not bleed from my penis but I can tell you that there is a window every month were I am prone to fits of anger and sadness. I tend to lock myself away for this 3 or 4 day span, leaving the house only to work.. I'll spend my time napping or getting drunk by myself and writing terrible poetry or inappropriate short stories, watching tv with headphones on or playing video games.. whatever it takes to distract myself from my shitty epicenter of hate and hurt that pulses within me and whispers terrible things in my ear.. like I'm not good enough, not smart enough, that I'm always destined to fail. that no one will ever put me first and that everything I do is a waste of time. that I would be better off raging against the world, taking what I want, hurting who I want and not giving a good god damn because no one gives a damn about me and never will. I know its all bullshit deep down, that its just a vile gremlin that loves to see me get into trouble that says these things, but fuck all if he isnt convincing.. So I put myself on a short leash. I strap myself in. I make sure I can't hurt anyone, especially myself. I'm reminded every day what happens when I get out of hand, when I see the scars in the mirror.. when it rains and my torn muscles throb and my broken bones ache.
This isnt a pity party. I'm just writing because its cathartic. Be glad this isnt an awful poem or a short story about a civil war era mexican horse trader that fell in love with one of his slaves.
I'm in the middle of an emotional upheaval. Whether or not men admit it, they are prone to cycles just like a woman is. I may not bleed from my penis but I can tell you that there is a window every month were I am prone to fits of anger and sadness. I tend to lock myself away for this 3 or 4 day span, leaving the house only to work.. I'll spend my time napping or getting drunk by myself and writing terrible poetry or inappropriate short stories, watching tv with headphones on or playing video games.. whatever it takes to distract myself from my shitty epicenter of hate and hurt that pulses within me and whispers terrible things in my ear.. like I'm not good enough, not smart enough, that I'm always destined to fail. that no one will ever put me first and that everything I do is a waste of time. that I would be better off raging against the world, taking what I want, hurting who I want and not giving a good god damn because no one gives a damn about me and never will. I know its all bullshit deep down, that its just a vile gremlin that loves to see me get into trouble that says these things, but fuck all if he isnt convincing.. So I put myself on a short leash. I strap myself in. I make sure I can't hurt anyone, especially myself. I'm reminded every day what happens when I get out of hand, when I see the scars in the mirror.. when it rains and my torn muscles throb and my broken bones ache.
This isnt a pity party. I'm just writing because its cathartic. Be glad this isnt an awful poem or a short story about a civil war era mexican horse trader that fell in love with one of his slaves.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
rabidbuttons:
yes I know you guys are..... because my hubbys pms is way worse than mine...
marksy:
yeah i get them too, but i have not noticed any time pattern. seems to be more random. you would think it might flare up more as often as i wear skirts, but not true. ( wait til you see the size 11 capris that my co-worker gave me for b-day.. on 2nd thought. you prob could skip that picture... sorry )