Magical Tipsy Toes

I thought when I woke up this morning I wouldn’t feel anything. That the feelings would just slip off me like a coat and fall onto the floor.

I was wrong.

I feel it clinging on my skin. It’s grown tighter and it refuses to budge. I am trying to pretend it doesn’t exist. But it does. I can’t seem to shake it off anymore. It’s like I’m a can of baked beans that’s tired of being in the back of cupboard and is ready to explode because the expiry date is nearing.

I used to feel sad. Sad that my parents think that way. Sad that I am such a disappointment to them. Just because I don’t dress more girly. Or because I rather hang out with people who don’t make me feel like I’m such a chore to be with. I used to feel scared. Scared that I’ll upset them more. Scared that I might get whacking.

Then one day, something snapped. I didn’t feel sad or scared anymore. I began not to care. It was tiring. Tiring when I tell you who exactly I’m hanging out with and only have use it against me. Tiring when I tell you where I am and you think I’m somewhere else. Tiring to keep apologizing because I don’t want to have you keep shouting. Tiring to keep worrying if there will be another shouting match when I get home. I’m tired of emotional blackmailing. Tiring when I try to involve you in my life and you turn around and tell me I don’t really amount to anything. I look like I have a problem when I come home? You’re right I do. You never thought I’d be this way? Yes, it was always in me…this person you say that I am. This mean, selfish and horrible side that I have. It just took a while to come out.

You say you know what I’m up too outside? Good…maybe you can fill me in on what’s going on with my life. Because I have no clue myself on this secret lifestyle I’m leading.

So I don’t carry handbags…or wear dresses and skirts…or even put on make up or wear heels. It doesn’t mean I’m not normal. Does it?? Yes, you’re right….if I somehow don’t see your point or where you are coming from, it must mean I’m stupid and ungrateful and therefore it gives you the right to spit at me.

So the sadness has disappeared. The scared feeling is beginning to ebb away. And anger has taken over. A bubbling pot of anger is left. It’s going to erupt. I’m good with controlling emotions…but the end result is this crazy ass headache I keep having. Now every little thing agitates me. They say you are who you want to be. So when you ask me how I feel when you tell me I’m a disgrace….or when you say you want to give me problems after problems because you think I deserve it…or when you say I’m arrogant because I can’t be fucked…. I feel angry. And I’m not scared of you or sad because of you.

I’m scared of what I might do. And I’m sad that I might really do it.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 23rd, 2006 at 7:00 am and is filed under Red Light Crazy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.