Well, foof.

The problem, of course, with being grown up and reasonable and trying to maintain a semblance of emotional stability is having to behave in a grown-up, reasonable, emotionally stable manner. While this is infinitely more socially acceptable, it is far less emotionally filling, and it does nothing to help lance the blisters on my psyche.

I want to sulk. I want to throw things - hard, noisy, breakable things, not the nice tame stuffed animals I keep nearby to throw in a stable adult fashion. I want to say mean, hurtful things that will cut like knives, flaying people I care about. I want to make melodramatic statements and snap decisions that I'll regret later. I want to make myself bleed, just because I need some way for everything bubbling up inside to escape, and because having an actual physical manifestation of pain makes everything else so much easier to see.


But I can't. Because I'm doing my best to be a stable, reasonable, grown-up kind of person. So I sigh, and I ratchet the tension in my shoulders up another notch as I pull my fingernails out of my palm, and I tell myself that I'm fine. If I'm feeling indulgent, I'll even say something like 'Gosh, I'm kind of upset right now.' And I tell myself it'll go away over time, and won't I be happy then that I didn't do anything stupid and irrevocable? Very mature, very stable and reasonable. But it's about as satisfying as giving a starving man a photograph of a boullion cube.....