You know what?

I might be negative. I might complain about something different with each passing minute of my life. I might descend into long-winded rants about the behaviours of others. I might find it difficult to express my happier thoughts. I might be moody and hard to live with at times and yes, I admit, I have a habit of taking out bad moods on the people I love.

But at least I’m not nasty.

I have angry reactions to things, to people. I write logical but terse, sometimes sarcastic responses to them. Just in blank documents. I rarely do anything with them. Usually, I find my frustrations are transferred from my mind to the screen as I type, and when I finish I’m fairly placated.

I react most strongly to things that are at odds with my beliefs, not my tastes. If someone hates the music that I like, I don’t rightly care.  If someone thinks that the only way to ensure their children are exposed to ‘good’ people is to send them to a religious school… well, that’s where my little temper gauge starts to quiver. It does seem a little contradictory to me – personal beliefs are as varied as personal tastes, and theoretically I’d like to say that everyone is entitled to their opinion, whether it’s about a piece of art or about euthanasia. But in practice, I’m not really like that. Besides, the opinions of euthanasia would arguably be much more impacting than those of a piece of art.

Things that I find close-minded, petty, personally insulting, insensitive, illogical, deliberately mean, ridiculous or just plain stupid will immediately make my brain skip. Like a broken record. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t dislodge the irritation, the disbelief that someone would actually think/say/do that.

“Why would you be annoyed that your in-laws bought your unborn baby a beautiful, expensive cot? How controlling and ungrateful can you get?”

“How, how, how could you possibly say that being alive at any cost is preferable to dying with dignity before your quality of life is completely taken away? You would euthanise a suffering animal, but not a human?”

“Yes, I can see how it would take a lot of effort to walk ten steps to leave that shopping trolley in the return bay. I completely understand why you would leave it in an empty parking space, so that I have to stop my car mid-park and get out to move it. You don’t, after all, co-exist on a planet with over 6 billion other fucking people.”

“Right, of course. You were born in this country, so of course you have more right to be here than people who immigrate. Despite the fact that you are a racist moron.”

Well, I could give examples until the end of time. I apologise for the descent into sarcasm. Sometimes I’m just not sure what else to say.

Holy moly. ANYWAY.

My whole point (a point! there’s a point!) is that I get angry and snarky about (I think) legitimate irritants. When I am able and inclined to disagree directly, I try to do so with reason and basic human respect. If something frustrates me so much that I can’t respond with control, that I wouldn’t be comfortable attaching my words to my name, I don’t say anything. (Well, to be completely honest, this is often where the people close to me cop earfuls of my attitude.)

If I see someone wearing something I don’t like, then that’s all it is – an outfit that I wouldn’t personally wear. I poke fun at the conventions of ‘hipster’ fashion, but I don’t hate them, and I certainly would never single people out and degrade them because they’re wearing things that don’t suit my taste. Because I recognise that it’s my taste. And I would not be impressed by someone picking on me because they don’t like my shirt.

I’m not mean. I’m negative. There are a lot of things I don’t like. There are a lot of people I don’t like. But I would never, ever be intentionally and unreasonably derogatory, bitchy or hurtful, especially not while hiding behind an anonymous persona.

I’m extremely tired of people.


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