Thursday, July 29, 2004
homicide is painless...
I'm not a violent person. Au contraire, mes amis, I consider myself to be very much a peace-loving kind of gal, the type of person that despairs when others argue and fight, always wishing they could find some sort of common ground, that they would, somehow, "just get along."
But over the last few days even I have been driven to extreme violence, frustrated beyond my breaking point by that over which I seem to have no control, no matter how hard I try rectify this situation. I see them, everywhere, into every little thing where they have no right to be. Which is strange, considering I know that they are merely dancing to the tunes of their own natures.
Had they stayed where I did not have to interact with them, I might observe them from afar, shaking my head yet fascinated with their actions. But they have entered my world now. They are desecrating that which is mine, and which belongs to those I care about. I am furious, frustrated, and as a result I kill as many of them as I can, feeling as if I'm committing genocide, but not caring a whit.
Still, despite my newly destructive tendencies, they keep coming. And coming. I am at a loss at what to do that will keep them away without harming those I love. So I move a few things. And just keep killing.
Fucking ants in my cats' food dishes.
But over the last few days even I have been driven to extreme violence, frustrated beyond my breaking point by that over which I seem to have no control, no matter how hard I try rectify this situation. I see them, everywhere, into every little thing where they have no right to be. Which is strange, considering I know that they are merely dancing to the tunes of their own natures.
Had they stayed where I did not have to interact with them, I might observe them from afar, shaking my head yet fascinated with their actions. But they have entered my world now. They are desecrating that which is mine, and which belongs to those I care about. I am furious, frustrated, and as a result I kill as many of them as I can, feeling as if I'm committing genocide, but not caring a whit.
Still, despite my newly destructive tendencies, they keep coming. And coming. I am at a loss at what to do that will keep them away without harming those I love. So I move a few things. And just keep killing.
Fucking ants in my cats' food dishes.
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United States, California, Los Angeles, San Fernando Valley, English, Carol, Female, 36-40.
