Rhysography

Control.

It’s something that I can’t let go of no matter how hard I’ve tried. I’ve been told that being a perfection is good for some things, but I can’t think of any instance that it’s proved useful. 

It’s just one big, exhausting happy-suck. 

Even with these tumblr posts. Most of the time, I don’t post because I don’t want unbelievably daft and vapid to whoever is reading. And honestly, who the fuck is even reading? I’m convinced that anyone who even follows me either doesn’t go on tumblr, or just skips over my post when it grazes their dashboard. 

I try too hard. I’m a control freak when I don’t have the energy to spare. 

The biggest thing: I try to get it right the first time instead of just getting it done and fixing it later. It can be anything.

I don’t believe in multiple drafts of a paper or script. I should.

I can’t stand hearing ignorant people bitch and moan about shit that they shouldn’t be spending their energy on because it causes me to spend energy on them. 

And not only that, I am a passive motherfucker. Okay. Passive-aggressive.

But it’s come to the point where I’ve been passive for so long, that now I’m thinking: “FUCK being polite. FUCK ALL Y’ALL.”

I think I’ve just reached a limit. Somebody hit a nerve that has been hit far too many times. 

And this paper is hurting my head like a really complicated math problem. 

Mama kitty makes things a little better. She usually does. Time for another visit.