I love when I write the title and I have no real understanding of what I’m beginning. I like it like that. Maybe I should go to Starbucks and sip on over priced coffee like the rest of the douche bags.
Step by step, I’ve found that I have the uncanny ability to not just piss people off but myself off as well. I can take the simplest of moments and make it an instant molehill. This comes from years of training on the “mean” streets of New York. Where the simple things in life can piss you off (or it’s just me, again).
I just have this overwhelming sense of anger brewing inside of me. Where I want to diagnose myself with Joe Pesci syndrome.Where I fly off the handle at the drop of a canoli. Maybe I should sublet myself to non-stop reality television shows and wait for that shiny red button. The button where I proceed to bang my head against the wall for some more creativity.
My family, my wife’s family and my friends know all too well that I piss myself off pretty often. I go through “rehab” weeks where I tell myself that I’m not going to do it. So, I sit there like a lit lantern. Then it starts as a small tiny spark. Nothing big, just the usual situations that normal people can handle. Sometimes, I make it weeks without a ignition. People notice that I’m extremely friendly, outgoing and complacent. Then, the urge kicks in. Like a heroin addict looking for his next fix. Looking my next excuse to bring some hell on someone else and myself. To embarrass all my hard work and relapse one more time. It is a brutal cycle that is slowly, over the years, getting better. It used to take a day. Then it was a week. Now, it’s maybe 2 weeks at best.
I’m worse than all those rock and rollers. I just keep coming back for some more. Pissing myself off and pissing all over myself. I’m good at making others suffer but the fact I can do it to myself is an art that needs to stop.
I blame my mother…. Don’t we all just go back to the same excuse. My mommy did it and didn’t love me. My mommy loved me too much. It makes me laugh out loud. Really, it does, because I know it is not her fault. I choose to be enriched in anger. To be pissy at the smallest thing. They say the secret to long life is to not sweat the small stuff. Looks like I’m in a pretty shitty situation at this rate. Well, back to rehab. Let’s try it one more time. I’ve always wondered what a washed up 80’s child star felt like.