Angry Ships

I figured that if I downed the whole bottle, the anger would be smothered, buried far away. So I tried. It was shit beer, but it had an alcohol content, and that was nice. But, when the empty bottle came down, my only thought was “Right, who should I throw this at to prompt the best fight?”

That obviously wasn’t a good idea. So I turned to the guy with the epic car, gave him $20 and he took me for an incredible blast in his gorgeous, rally-derived car.

He drives like I expected: he trusted the WRX more than he should have. I didn’t care; crashing and dying would have been a beautiful way to go.

We survived with huge smiles.

The anger returned. It just sat there, staring at walls without holes and wanting to change them.

I don’t know where the anger came from. I was simply sitting there, enjoying my drink and the company, when it emerged fully formed. And it just wouldn’t fuck off.

I tried everything I knew. I tried to focus on pretty girls – that worked momentarily. I tried to talk to cool guys – that worked momentarily. I tried to breathe, tried to smile. tried to walk and nothing worked more than temporarily.

It was like a hot black stone sitting in my chest. Everything ached around it. And I could not get rid of it.

It sucked. It sucked right up to the point that I realised calling it anger is half the problem.

I told (yet another) pretty German about my anger issues. She’s now a bit scared of me. When I shared this snippet with Dutchy, she moaned at me, claiming I don’t have anger issues, I’m just under a lot of stress.

I’m sick of her being right so fucking much.

It’s not anger; it’s just energy. It’s a fuel. It is not necessarily dark or deceitful or hurtful. It’s just something I can use if I’m willing to deal with it.

I found an old picture today. A picture of Someone. It’s a picture of Her, lying on a bed, completely naked. It’s a picture I’ve edited with mediocre skill. And it’s fucking beautiful.

I miss Her so much.

She is a manipulative, selfish, unreliable bitch and I wish the very worst upon Her but god I love Her so. I want Her to feel a tenth of the pain She caused me and I want to laugh at Her when She suffers but I know I’d always step in and help Her. I can’t bear to have Her suffer pain.

In many ways, Dutchy reminds me of Someone (though Someone has a better bum). I think, mostly, she reminds me of Her in the way they both use people and fuck people up. I think part of my attraction to Dutchy is that I hope I get to watch her be hurt the way Someone hurt me.

Which is a truly horrendous thing to say. Because the mere fact that that woman can smile every day is enough to give me hope. That she can go through everything she has, that she is as fucked up as she is and that she can then stand there and say in pure honesty “I’m ok” with a smile on her face is remarkable. To me, she is proof life is never too hard.

That proof makes me want to try again. That proof gives me hope. It tells me I could go back to Someone and say “Hey, I still love you. I want to try again with you. I believe this time you can win, this time you’re strong enough, because I’ve seen someone else do it, and I think you’re better than her.”

But I can’t go say that. There are numerous reasons I could use for it, but there’s only one honest one: I don’t want a relationship.

Because what I want is labelless.

This energy I have makes me lonely, it makes me lonely because it scares me. It constantly asks “how can I make the given situation more enjoyable/entertaining?” and occasionally arrives at answers like “throw bottle at Dutchy and pick fight with Hulk”.

I’m learning to control it. I’m learning to turn the focus away from me and onto others. Because it’s useful. Because it gives me the strength to say “Where I was sucks, I’m going somewhere better and I have nothing to fear.”

Because it’s stupid to be scared of myself. It’s stupid to long for the past. So I’m stepping forward, without any darkness, one small step at a time.

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