Everything and nothing. Read it, shrug your shoulders and move on.

Thursday, January 4

Fag

No not the US version, but the British one. A cigarette, a fag, a smoke.

I've managed to resist the urge for a fag all day, and all day yesterday, but since i've left work my emotions have been all over the place. Yesterday I was severely depressed but today i'm angry.

It probably started while waiting for the bus after work. A bus which didn't arrive at the first scheduled time so it was a half hour wait for the next one. Which didn't turn up until 15 minutes later than scheduled. Although this is a fairly regular occurance nowadays, the lack of nicotine in my system led to a loss of control and the anger got the better of me..........so I started to kick the bus shelter in.

By the time i'd got home it could only get worse. And it did.

Already pissed off that no one was in (And won't be until C gets home around 10pm) I was doubly annoyed that I had to peel vegetables for my dinner (Bangers, Mash, Brocolli, Carrots and Gravy. Yum fucking yum!) so it wasn't really a surprise when such a minor incident like the foil under the grill (To catch sausage fat) getting all crumpled up led me to use the grill to smash up the kitchen.

Mashed up vegetables flew everywhere, the mug rack was sent across the room, the cats cowered from my wrath and one of the little salt 'n pepper pots my Mum had got us (In the shape of a cat. How original) has now got a hollow stump for a tail.

The bin came off worse though. It now has a fuck off great big dent in it after I booted the bastard. The lid no longer closes.

I know i'll get bollocked by C when she gets home but I don't care. It felt good to smash shit up. Really good. Being able to vent that anger like I used to is so pleasing. I always get shushed whenever I begin to rage at the PS2 or whatever and it's really fucking me off. I always used to be quite volitile (Although not violent to those around me) and had a habit of flinging things through windows. I once threw the pullout drawer of a PC desk out of the front door and into the street after it had fucked me off.

The point is, that although the rage seems scary and violent, it's not. I'm just venting and it's the way that makes me feel good. I'm not going to burst a blood vessel, i'm enjoying the anger, the passion, the release. Fuck those people who say, 'Take a deep breath'. No! You fuck off you fuck!
Stop trying to neuter me, as it bleeds into every other aspect of my being, knocking my already fragile confidence.

Actually the point is this, i'm going up the shop to buy some fags. Don't care that it's giving in and will taste foul. I tried to do this last New Year and it didn't help the lurch into depression that I seem to be falling into with alarming regularity, so i'm going to knock completely giving up for now.

And if you don't like it, you can fuck right off!

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