Fights
Ok, so getting into verbal fights with someone sucks. Right? But it’s ten thousand times worse when that fight is with the ex of someone you are currently dating and the person you are with is nowhere near to jump in and make it cool. The fight from tonight was about Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. I’ve never met a gay guy who believed this was a good idea, but tonight I did. So we fought, loudly and intensely, speaking over each other as our anger escalated. I’m willing to debate that argument if the person actually has something intelligent and valid to say, but this guy had no answers to my questions about his stance that made any sense. And all I wanted to do was punch him in his face to get his reductive, insipid little brain to SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Deep breath.
I’ve been finding lately that fury has been building inside me in scary degrees. I know this is directly related to my letting myself finally experience emotions after five years of beating them down. I’m trying to train myself to recognize when that’s what’s happening, instead of letting forth a barrage of fists or words. But in the moment it feels nearly impossible. He walked away from the fight when my boyfriend took a break from working at the bar and came over to say hi, but at that point the damage was done. I walked out, and now I’m home alone, bursting with an explosion of anger that has no outlet. I’m supposed to what, go to bed? I will sit there under the blankets, loathing the stupidity of someone who really has no influence my life. He’s insignificant. Eventually I will fall asleep and have terrible nightmares about the apocalypse, like I do every night. This is when I start to curse people for trying to convince me that life is better when I’m off pills. I seriously doubt it so much of my waking time. I’m still waiting for the sign that opening my eyes to this world is worth it.
