There are days when all I want is to take a knife and cut out all the bad parts of me. Today is one of those days. Nothing in particular is the proximate cause. Something in particular is the catalyst for this particular round, but it is nothing that even has anything to do with me, it just reminds me of how far I am from where I want to be.
And I know that even if I could cut out all the bad parts, there wouldn't end up being anything left. There would just be an orgy of blood and gore, and a big greasy puddle.
No kids, I'm not actually planning to off myself in some horribly gruesome way. We're talking about feelings here; you chicks should be able to understand that. For the guys, it's kinda like that time when she stands between you and the TV set and asks "Do you think I look fat?" or "Why do you love me?" and you get that sinking thing in the pit of your stomach like you used to get after you ate some of Aunt Edna's Cheese Log Surprise at Christmastime, except this one doesn't go away after you poop.
Yeah, I know that it's all in my head-- there's a lot of crap in my head that doesn't need to be there-- but I'm pretty thoroughly disenchanted with my life right now.
It's not enough. It's never enough.
All that talk about the journey being more important than the destination? Load of crap. When you have to pee, the destination is a helluva lot more important than the journey. And bumpy roads suck ass.
What I need is an evil lair.