Have you wanted to do something that you knew you shouldn’t because if you did, you KNEW it’d hurt you and make you angry, but you do it anyway… And then you’re sitting there feeling hurt and angry-really, really angry-and you should fall asleep, but all you can do is think about how angry you are… And then you realize you’ve been clenching your chin for way too long and you loosen it, but you still have the urge to punch someone in the nose and watch them bleed (goodness, Anne!) and then you’re thinking in the back of your head, “This is your own. darn. fault. You knew you’d feel like this if you did it, but you still did and now you’re angry.”
And then you’re like, well “Friggin A (that’s right, friggin A!), I’m sick of everyone and everything and I hate it that my life is so open, I’m just going to BOOM! Delete every darn picture on Facebook, and while I’m at it, defriend a couple thirty people too. And hey, I might as well just get rid of my Facebook because it’s doing me no good!” (except, giving you the ability to catch up with Lucas, Lissa, Sara, Billy, all of the CBYXers, Rosa, Ann-Kathrin, Farah, Marina, Ana, and all of your other friends out of state. But don’t tell that to irrational Anne. She wouldn’t like to hear that at this time.)
And after you realize that you could get rid of your virtual self altogether, you’re like, “Wait a minute. There are other options here…” You could use the internet to express how angry at someone you really are. Because, afterall, isn’t that what the internet’s all about? Being able to write someone cruel and hateful things that you wouldn’t ever be able to say straight to their face? I mean look at the people who scream at their neighbors and ward members about politics on Facebook. That’s the way to go! It’s my turn now! Off to use the internet to the best of my abilities!
…And then you think about it… And whatever made you so angry shouldn’t have gotten to you. In fact, you probably overreacted because you’re lacking sleep or you want attention or you’re just… out of your mind, which happens. So then you’re like “Ah, screw it, go to bed.” and then the next day you remember you’re little psycho night and think “Phewf! Good thing I didn’t delete every single one of my pictures on Facebook (again).” and “Phewf! Good thing I didn’t get on Johnny Woodpecker’s (?) wall and tell him what a big arschloch he is.”
But yes, you wrote on your blog a very vague description and you know there’s gonna be those couple of friends who are going to ask you about it and you’re just gonna say, “Ohhh, it was nothing. It had nothing to do with you, so don’t worry about it.” And they won’t believe you. But you’ll just roll your eyes and say “Ohhh, it was nothing. Just one of my psycho moments.” And you can handle that.
Phew. Good thing I’m going to church tomorrow.