Some days the triggers are small. But they are there – a thoughtless remark, someone interrupting with an infantile giggle while I am trying to get a message across, disregard for the effort it takes to pull off a project – things that make me feel small, inconsequential, surplus to requirements.
Some days the rage fires up, because of these things – these trivial asides that on any other day are light-hearted intersections in my day.
Some days I fight not to say the things I feel when that rage fires up.
Some days you make me so mad, I feel like striking out at you and yelling at you “Shut up! Shut the fuck up, and listen to me! Stop dismissing me like I am just a noise in your head!”
Some days you make me feel really small.
Some days I just want to stare down a long white line of powdery disaffection and forget you exist; that I exist…that I feel.
Some days are not like other days.
Some days are not every day.
And I will not be beaten by them. So I confess. I confess…that…
Some days I really feel what it’s like to feel, and to fight the urge to get lost in the drugs and the chaos.
Some days are like today. When all of this is true, but still…
Some days will try and beat me.
But they can’t.
Not now. Not ever. Because through the irritation and the rage and the anger, I want to feel some days like this, so that I know what a good day feels like; it doesn’t feel like this.
I want to feel. Some days.
© Dave Luis 2014. All Rights Reserved.