ode to thursday

Bone. Gristle. Maim. Kill. Lust. Fear. Pain. Slice. Flense. Kill. Blood.

These are the emotions I must let boil just below the surface. These are the substitutes for outward frustration and anger. For a brief time, when no one at work is looking, I think these thoughts. They rush and burn behind my eyes, filling me instantly with an inhuman desire to rend flesh.

Then, as suddenly as they arrive, they leave. And once again I am the picture of corporate responsibility. Always wearing black socks, dress shoes. Always in a collared shirt. Hardly ever letting the various violent and mischievous urges even out to play, merely hinting at them at times of stress.

And to have the stake thrust through my heart today, that almost did it. I almost snapped. Almost put my fist through the drywall. And why? Well, because of the most recent in a long line of girls known as Her. Once again, due to what can only be some sort of fucked up joke, I got the following line:

“oh, I don’t think we should do anything together at work. I really want to, but, I don’t ever do anything with guys at work…”

and then, THEN, you know what the fuck she’s going to do? She’s going to go out and fuck some OTHER fucking guy from work, because maybe he’s more aggressive, more fucking loaded, more prone to treat her like fucking shit. Not that I won’t, but I’ll give her just enough shit to keep her in line. Not to degrade her, not to run a major power play, but to keep my fucking head above water, and her ego at a comfortable level.

And why I know this, and don’t just kill the fucking emotions for real, lobotomize myself against any sort of future love, beats the shit out of me. Sitting there today, hiding the self pity and anguish behind layers of corporate blankness, I knew that I MUST do this. I MUST never stop loving. Never stop giving. For the bad man is the charge of the good. And the good man the bane of the bad.

Most people don’t care if they don’t do the right thing, as long as they don’t get caught. I know it’s wrong, and I know that if I don’t do it, someone else probably will. But if you keep your fucking head up, and just walk calmly into their midst, grinning as their slings and arrows whiz by you, then, maybe, just maybe, you will come out the other side something more than you were when you went in.

Because that’s what things seem to be about right now. They seem to be the culmination of some process of evaluation and readjustment. Some fulcrum point at which I CAN move on. I can die, and be reborn. I can love those around me, become a better friend, learn about my limitations, and how to conquer them.

I can give, and expect nothing in return. I can hurtle ever forward into the warm unknown idea of Future, and know that I will, I MUST, become the king I was meant to be.