I’ve been struggling with something about my blog lately. When I started writing this, I didn’t really plan to show it to anyone I knew, except a select few who already know me quite well. I wasn’t even going to show Mr. Grumpiface.
But somewhere I changed my mind, and I’m not even really sure what prompted me to do so. I started writing this so I could share my thoughts, opinions and feelings freely, because no one would judge me on what I wrote. I didn’t – and still don’t – care what strangers think of me, because it’s not going to impact my day-to-day life and I can handle the internet trolls.
But then I decided to share this blog with people I knew, and I realized that most of these people don’t know me very well. They know I swear a lot, I hate cardio, and I have a pet snake. They don’t know that the truth is, deep down, I really am a terrible person.
I mean, I’m a good person. I smile, I talk to people about their problems, and genuinely care enough to feel compelled to help. I try to make people smile and laugh when they’re having a bad day. I support people when they’re having a rough time. I try to understand where people are coming from and make allowances for them. I don’t always succeed on that, but I try. Except that…
I HATE people. I don’t just mean that I hate people in general, I mean that there are specific people that I really want to kill. I’m not kidding. I want to commit violent acts of murder toward these people, and if I could do so without being arrested, I would. You know the good guy in the movie who always spares the bad guy until the bad guy does something that forces him to act? I’m not the good guy. I would have killed that fucker in the beginning of the movie, the first chance I got, which makes me the bad guy. I have urges where I look at someone and imagine having huge werewolf jaws to maul them with. I think about pushing people down the stairs when they walk too slowly in front of me. (Front push-kick to the back and my way is clear… until I get to the bottom.) I see any teenagers having a good time and my first impulse is to make them get the fuck away from me. People having loud conversations in public make me angry. Teenagers being affectionate with each other makes me want to round-kick one in the back of the head so their heads bang together. I hate everyone’s children. The other day, someone at work teased me about not being able to eat dairy, and I replied that I would blow up a daycare if it meant that I could eat cheese again. I had a whole plan about how I was going to kill Mr. Grumpiface, and the only hitch in my plan was that I’m not very good at driving his car. I’m a small, angry rage monster, and I think of terrible things to do to people for no real reason.