Mad, I tell you! Mad!

It is maddening to have such uncontrollable feelings.

It is maddening to swing up and down in a moody fashion, knocking over lamps and lives in such a glazed, unreasonable stupor. I elbow somebody out of the way because I'm in a hurry and I can't be bothered and if anyone dared to speak to me I'd punch his gonads with Furious Bitch intensity. It would be his fault for offering me any damned phrase absent of vvreify praise. If he'sn't said, 'Your Highness,' 'm'lady' or 'Kosmokrator,' I'd just have to rip out his testes. For insolence.

It is maddening to be so prone to collapse and mushiness, floating along the piano keys in the middle of a pretty and lingering French piece--and suddenly, vision blurred, throat choking, begin to cry. I upset loud wooden chairs and crack glass vases in the houses of peoples' lives. The unfortunate person who happened to have her eyes fall upon me would instantly be cast in a dark and brooding light in my mind. It would be her fault for possessing an optic nerve, for in her one x-ray perceptive glance are all of my flaws: the wrinkle at the waist of my off-color shirt, the extra skin on my neck and wrist and chin and undereyes, the stress seeping into my forehead, the wideness of my hips and thickness of my thighs. I'd scowl at her. For my insecurities.

It is maddening to have these feelings and moments while I'm trying to finish a job. It's an annoyance to go about your day, doing mundane things, but feeling such monstrous and disproportionate emotions. I suppose it makes things a little more interesting, but by no means does that equate to 'a little more enjoyable'. I know, it's strange, since those two phrases can usually be equated. But no. Not in this case.

Worst of all is the thought that I am not even premenstrual-syndroming. I'm not menstrual-syndroming, either. I simply exist, foul-mouthed and irritable as I am. I think it is a very shallow and very temporary bout of depression. Just a wash of blues and greys over everything.

But oh, it is inconvenient, and oh, I wish I could somehow force myself to feel better with the force of sheer and glorious reasoning.
Hah. As if that ever works.
------------------------------------------------
Growth is the slow widening and redefinition of boundaries.