It’s that feeling that you are out of control. You know things are getting to you far more than they should, or normally do for that matter. It’s that hot, stinging sensation behind your eyes right before the floods tear loose.
There’s nothing like the feeling of being further down on the priority list than you’d like to be. That irrational moment where you say, I obviously care MORE for you than you do for me. Even if you know it’s irrational and possibly unfair. The feeling is still there and the more you try to swallow it the more it wants to keep rearing its’ ugly head.
Somewhere behind the new patio, the crappy western, and impromptu jam session in the garage is where I’m falling at the moment. I can’t swear that the roast in the oven isn’t ahead of me, because it probably is.
And, yes, I’m PMS’ing like nothing you’ve ever seen (if you aren’t married or significantly attached, that is) and I know that some of what is going on is hormones and mood swings… and yet, I’m thinking of lovely things I’d enjoy doing with a meat tenderizer about now. Slow, painful things…
But, then again, it isn’t just that one thing, it’s more than that. It’s the conversation where the other person drifts off to talk to someone else when you were mid-answering them. It’s that emotional feeling of being slapped in the face, snubbed, and ignored. Somehow, ignored seems to be the worst of the three.
So, this is me on my pity pot. It’s not pretty, I know. But, this is my blog and if I want to throw myself a pity party (hastily checking archives) I don’t think it’s something I’ve done with any sort of regularity, so perhaps I’m entitled.
Meh.
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February 26th, 2007
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