I am a very irritable person. If the stars align just right, there is no refuge for anyone. The way they look, talk, write, breathe, or exist all grates on me. I want them gone; I’ll make them gone and I will do so ruthlessly. I want the chaff removed from my presence. I want to move unhindered and I want to occupy those spaces I desire. I will not accommodate, only eradicate.
Everything grates on me. In an ever increasingly connected world, the needs of a few are forced on the masses rather than the few fighting their own battles for legitimacy. Seeing social media in which people, believing they are animals in spirit, are triggered by humans fornicating disgusts me. On the other end of the spectrum, close friends coming to me with requests that inconvenience me do the same. Everyone is equally worthless to me. The question is whether they are roaches or something more tolerable.
The sun, the summer winds, the humming of the frogs at night. I could do without all of these. People are not the only things that can irritate me. Life … life itself irritates me. The end of life irritates me. I am torn between poles, each of which are intolerable and whose in-between is equally intolerable. I am irritable because I exist. With that in mind, I am perfectly happy to seek silence. If it means destroying everything around me, then so be it. A temporary but violent peace will rule my world. Lest the reader imply otherwise, I am not advocating a physical violence but rather a ruthless culling of everything in my life. I’ve discarded scores of interpersonal relationships in this fashion and I will destroy many more. What is unnecessary must be eradicated in order to preserve quiet.
It’s all about when the meltdown comes.