Self-Torture My Speciality
October 5th, 2008
There’s nothing at which I am better, it seems, than self-torture. And not even the fun kind—just the kind that makes me crazy. I go out of my way to prove something to myself, knowing that once it’s proved I will be unhappy. I worry at benign situations like Chelsea worries at pork chop bones the squirrels drop in the yard.
Eventually even the benign becomes malignant, malevolent. I dig and dig until I find my unhappiness and then I withdraw, wounded and hurt. I have a talent for making myself miserable that I defy anyone else to even attempt to match. Though I don’t know why anyone would want to.
One day I am going to learn to leave well enough alone. But not tonight.
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