Over the past few days, I’ve been pushed closer and closer to the edge. I just wanted to write this post so you have some idea of what I’m going through. I considered keeping this to myself and dealing with it like that, but hell, I’m too close to snapping, and I just want someone to realise that I’m losing it.
Seriously, don’t tease me for a day or two. I might hurt you. I punched Brendan Morphett for filling in for Paul with the whole "I wanna make love to you John Marshall" gag. I momentarily crippled Stephen’s fingers. Yesterday in Economics, I was temporarily delusioned and spent the entire lesson laughing hysterically at any excuse. I make quite an ass of myself in public, you know. So yes, first sign, I lost lucidity during class, and made two violent attempts. I sat up suddenly, towards the end of the lesson, declaring,
"I’ve got it! Violence is a psychological orgasm!"
Just feels so damn good, and you want to hold on to it for as long as possible. It looks like I’m not so masochistic after all. I fear for my control, and I believe this is something like what [Ahldrunnia (sp?)] is going through.
I’m not gay, God damn you, because I write poetry. Sure, the romantic poets were mostly homosexual, smoked all kinds of weird stuff, and were as promiscuous as you could get. But just because I imitate the style of romantic literature doesn’t make me gay! Just because I’m strange doesn’t mean I’m queer. I heard Aaron in Year 12 ask someone if I was gay; he was the Cairos member in charge of my Peer Ministry. That was a fricking slash, to the heart or wrist, whichever is more liable. Caring and being sensitive doesn’t mean you’re a transvestite.
Damn your determination to hate everything that’s different. Damn you all!
[please forgive this rant. I needed to be angry for a little while. I’ll try and calm down before school, but just in case, remember not to tease me today.]