Badug

2002-05-01 - 11:16 a.m.

I don't bother applying for membership to the Society for Absolutely Perfect People because I know they'd just laugh in my face.

One of my flaws is that I don't communicate joy very well. If communicating anger, resentment, distaste, annoyance, frustration, or just a generally short fuse was an Olympic Sport, I wouldn't need to buy off judges to get the gold.

What I don't convey often enough is my happiness. For example, I don't think you (the reader) realize how much I love my girlfriend, and how would you? I don't say it enough. On any given day, I spend around 14 hours thinking about her, and almost all of that is good sunshiny-rainbow-butterfly-daisy thoughts. But, what is it that I communicate? All the stupid, petty, grrrr things that get me fired up for a couple minutes because I'm a big retard (aka Boy) who doesn't get to take his anger out on the people who actually make me angry so I blow up on the one innocent bystander that I never should.

Yeah. You wanna know the worst part? It's how miserable I feel about myself when I do shit like that. You know how your dog looks at you when you come home and it shit on the floor somewhere and you haven't even found the shit yet, but it knows that you will, and it knows that it shouldn't be crapping on the floor, so it gets that "I'm bad" face? That's how I feel. I feel like I keep shitting on the floor of our relationship (see, it's a metaphor people, but since it was a terrible one, I figured I would tell you outright, that, yes, it's a metaphor).

I've got work to go do, but I wanted you to know that I love Jess, and she's great to me, and 78% of the time, I don't deserve it.