Who knew that getting caught in a torrential downpour of a thunderstorm could make oneself so introspective?
As I type this, sipping @a Red Stripe, I can honestly say I had what most people would call a "bad night." I found myself @work, working a shift I did not want to work (5p-1a), working through the frustrations my life has handed me as of late. I have to work w/my ex w/whom I've developed a lot of anger over the past couple weeks, and having to see her face isn't helping matters. I have friends that have fallen off the face of the earth where I'm concerned. Through it all, I'm working @a job I've come to hate, yet I'm currently not financially stable enough to leave, even when they're offering to pay me to leave. I've started to feel lost, not sure where my life is or where it's going.
To say things were coming to a boiling point is an understatement.
Sucking down the smoke from a Marlboro into my surely blackened lungs, I don't think it's all quite hit me yet.
After a night where I'm surprised I didn't find a wall to break my hands on from punching, I get a reprieve. I got out @11 instead of 1. As I exit my office and walk across the street to buy more cigarettes (I'm not an addict, I swear) I notice flashes in the sky and winds whipping up @an alarming rate.
This should have been a warning.
However, I was obviously too stupid to heed it, as I decide to forgo taking a cab home, thinking a walk home would do good to clear my head. "It's not raining," I thought. "I'll be fine," I thought.
Then the skies opened up.
Ever have one of those days where you feel like you and your emotions are tied closely to the happenings of nature around you? You may be walking down the street to birds singing, children laughing, and Mr. Sun shining down on you, love in your heart and a spring in your step, feeling good about life. You may be laying in the grass on a cool autumn evening looking up @a clear sky counting the stars, wondering if there are any other forms of intelligent life looking back @the same sky.
That's not what happened here. Never mind birds, rainbows, sunshine and other diabetic coma-inducing happy time things, this was some sort of "Chaos Theory on a bad acid trip" shit. I was pissed. And somebody knew it, because a storm was brewing (both literal and metaphorical) that would've cowered Satan himself.
And guess who had a half-hour walk home ahead of them?
And did I mention @the time I thought an umbrella was a good idea, and was dumb enough to use it, despite the fact that bolts of lightning flashed over my head, cutting the sky like a knife of daylight, ready to strike me down just to show me that fate has a sicker sense of humor than I?
Well, I just did. And believe me, I was doing plenty of lamenting @the aforementioned sick fuck fates as I walked, in between bouts of cursing and futile smoking of water-logged cigarettes. What should have taken about 27 minutes took about 40. Finally, I arrived @my apartment building, and I trudged up two flights of stairs, unlocked my door, and trod into my apartment. Soaked to the bone, pissed @the world, feeling outright defeated.
Now, to backtrack a bit, I had been sharing my frustration via text message w/a good friend of mine. When I walked in the door and started stripping down to take a much-needed shower, I shared w/her my experience of Me. vs. Torrential Storm. Before I stepped into the shower, I got this response.
"Was it beautiful?"
Despite my brushing it off @the time, as my body warmed to the touch of stinging rivulets of hot water, that's when it hit me.
I've been a fan of thunderstorms for some time. I find them incredibly fun to watch, and I even feel a certain level of eroticism towards them. Despite my emotions swirling in aforementioned soul-attuned display of nature that, to be honest, was starting to freak me out just a little bit, there was that little area in the back of my brain that, yes, did find it beautiful.
After washing and shaving, spending what felt like an eternity in my bathroom, I stepped out of the shower and found another text waiting for me.
"You can either enjoy the storm or just get wet."
This, friends, was one of those moments where it was half someone giving your their sincere sympathy...and half slapping you full-force upon your dome, telling you to get over yourself. Through it all, I've been feeling quite the sense of entitlement as of late, like I'm owed something for all the crap I've gone through as of late. It was @that moment that I wondered...do I even matter in the grand scheme of things? Why do I keep torturing my heart and my mind over such things, and is it doing me any good?
I think we all have those "crisis of self" moments throughout our lives. The real question is...where do I go from here?
It seems like my methods of coping have become contradictory. As much as I hate conflict, internalizing is destructive. To pull a 180, As much as I want to knock people on their ass and point out what they're doing, that just makes me the asshole. Then I go another 180, and it just becomes a cycle. 180 + 180 = 360, as it were.
How does one break the cycle? It's something I'm still working on to this day. The line between living for others you love and being a selfish prick as to not get manipulated and walked on is a very fine line, indeed. And my sense of balance is not the greatest, especially when I have a few drinks in me.
Right now, I'm feeling like maybe all I need to do is appreciate the small glimpses of beauty in life...no matter how wet I get.
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