I feel like I have been to a funeral, you know? That drained, tired, deflated feeling you get from being so upset. That’s me, but I missed the funeral, at least at a funeral I get to crack a joke or two to ‘lighten’ the mood. I’m nothing if not inappropriate.
You can’t fight the beast.
Only I can fight the beast.
I don’t hate the beast. I hate that it can take hold of me, for hours, days, weeks. I hate the power it possesses. I hate the brutality of my tongue when the beast gets hold of it. I hate that at a drop of a hat, it will end my long term relationship with my partner, with absolutely no regard for anyone’s feelings.