The One That Got Away

I just spent an hour writing a post which I then deleted. It contained my real thoughts on many pertinent issues of the day. Which is to say my actual thoughts about the people and things in my life. About myself too, ooh, some terrible, wicked stuff.

Better out than in, they say; well I say a bit of each is nice too, if you can get a rhythm going.

It's very cathartic to write, mainly because it saves you from shouting such things in people's faces. Which, as fun as it is, shouldn't be. Plus, it can get you fired or punched (both, if you work where I do). Probably the most cathartic thing about writing, though, is when you hit that DELETE button and it all goes bye-bye. It's the ultimate act of letting go, especially when those words were hateful words. It's even better than shitting!

I made myself a promise in the last piece, to write until I started to laugh. Well, I wrote for 45 minutes while crying then re-read for fifteen filled with rage and then I deleted it. That gave me a chuckle. So I started this piece. Fourth line good, fifth line better, and a genuine laugh! By the time I get to shitting I can barely see the screen again, only this time the tears ain't bitter, they're sweet.

I know, I know, you're not supposed to laugh at your own stuff. Well, you know what? I'll laugh if I want to, I'm fucking hilarious. Plus, I'm the only one who gets all my jokes. That's gotta count for something.

The point is, I'm an overly sensitive person and I live in a brusque city. I'm also a mimic. I have an idea that if only I could find a way to reflect all the negative energy I seem to attract, rather than absorbing it, I might be alright. Something like a shield, or a mirror, or a lens of some kind...