Rue No Longer

As much as I hate to admit it, it is the assholes, the jerks, the searing, galling, duplicitous, completely illogical, seriously in need of psychiatric care nimnods and kumquats of this world that are your friends. These adversaries are there to help you, as distasteful as the experience can be. Beware, they come in all shapes and sizes; friends, strangers, family, pious, not, male, female, single, married, employed, unemployed, drunk, sober, rich, poor, sweet, sour, happy, sad, the gamut. They lay in wait.
I can usually smell these people several miles away and avoid them like the plague, preferring to live a peaceful life in harmony with the world around me, best I can. Even though I live my life thus, there are times when despite my taking great pains to avoid the eventual blow-ups, the car wrecks I see fast approaching, happen they do, and my life has been greatly affected by them, immediately turned upside down, inside out by the bone-jarring collision.
What usually happens is I, too, get frighteningly mad, even though anger is my least desired emotion, frustrated beyond beyond by the altercation as I am. Rather than lashing out without reason or scope -even though I initially get in several cents worth to let the castigator know where I stand- I retreat to a quiet place to internalize. For days I will dissect all aspects of the holocaust, to see and weigh both sides. The recounting and replaying of the events to your satisfaction doesn’t help at all. The wounds are fresh and you’ll wake up thinking about them anyway; the worst way in the world to awake, misery on a scale without measure. But through this process it’s what happens next that’s important. The anger will reach a boiling point and like a mirage, truth will suddenly stand tall before me, enabling me to make crucial decisions, to gird myself so as to not ever let anything cause or allow such an aggregious impact on my life again. Then I begin the work; plotting, planning, putting into action various attributes at my beck and call that were heretofore unknown, dormant, ignored, or conveniently put to the side, to once and for all rid myself of the perdition. In short, I wake the fuck up. And then the ground zero purpose becomes crystalline.
Despite my unflagging opposition to such dire encounters, I end up thanking the bastards, as without them, I never would have put into play the new forward motion, the new mode of thinking. Putting one foot in front of the other with, or without, a clear cut destination is always good, in anybody’s book, regardless of the impetus.
So, to all you suck ass farging bastiches out there who’ve gotten in my face over the course of this lifetime? You were graciously spared a deserving throttle then. And now, I simply thank you. All is forgiven.
I feel better already.
Next.
Walk before they make you run.