Scornful Ache

Angry and hurtful feelings that I have contained and suppressed, leaked out and consumed my Tuesday evening. The uninvited trip down memory lane was not the sweet and blissful kind. Instead, it was an unpleasant revisiting of a haunted house full of raw emotion and bones (not too many, but enough).

You see, deep inside (not as neatly tucked away as I sometimes would like to believe), remains the traces of a naive and less savvy Angelique. The Angelique that if I could - I would - step into a time machine and drop a gem on. The Angelique that didn’t fully understand that respect is so basic and real love can be so much more than she got. The Angelique that played herself for so very little and gave much more than she should have. The Angelique that is ashamed and hurting. The Angelique that I needed to be at one point in my life, to make me the person that I like very well today.

All the lumps I’ve taken. . .mistakes I have made along the way have strengthened me. Even if it the latter does cause me painful falshbacks once in a blue moon, it was all said in done for a reason. Such is life, right? Wipe your tears girlfriend, you aint the only one. You are blessed in so many ways.

Yeah, I guess. . .

Still.

I was thinking - thinking - thinking - about some people that have come and gone in my life. And I’m pissed off because I feel I deserve several apologies that I know I’ll never get.

I want to spit in the faces of each and every one of them and parade their asses down the street in tar and feathers. If I were a Mob Boss, I’d shoot up their house with a tommy gun - tell them to get the fuck out of town and never show their ugly faces again. If I were a voodoo priestess, I’d shrivel their private parts and make them see spiders and snakes crawling all over, up and through their bodies, until they were driven mad. And if by chance they are thirsty I’d give them vinegar to drink instead of water. When they die I hope a million maggots devour their hateful, ignorant flesh while I do the “Cha Cha slide” on their grave. Faggots. Maybe they should be the ones that are nailed to a cross to pay for the sins of man.

Yet, I digress . . .I wrote the above yesterday. I slept on it and I feel much better. Especially because I have so much to be thankful for. Now I can get back to being the loving person that I am. Cuz LOVE rules SUPREME. And it’s the one thing that keeps me sane, that and ICE CREAM.

What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? I have too many favortites to chose just one. But I do especially love me some Ben & Jerrys “Chunky Monkey”.