You see when one's mad, there are always certain ways where one vents it out. In my case, I tend to cry a lot, grab my hair neurotically while sticking my head between my elbows, step loudly on the wooden floor so the sound coming from that could actually scare me for a second, and clear out all the fluids running on my face with loads of loads of, LOADS of tissues.
And THAT, I assure you, is not a nice picture.
After every episode of my almost heroic act I never seemed to get a grip on what to do next. There is a line one needs to draw where makeup has to be redone and hair has to be recombed, tissues have to been thrown out and facial muscles have to been reminded of the simple movement of a smile. I find it awfully hard this time, to conduct this now-I-am-gonna-suck-myself-back-to-life-transfer. Instead I decide to indulge myself onto my white virtual screen where words get spell-checked, batteries get out-run and screams finally get lost.
And thus, is my inevitable transition quietly done.
|
