The Breakdown

Remember my sort of half-way well adjusted post from yesterday about how my phone and my debit card info were stolen but I was basically just happy that they didn’t get my address and rape me in the night, or whatever? Yeah, well, today I’m pissed. Also a little freaked out now that I realize they have my address and could come and rape me in the night. Oh Christ.

Whatever. I’m armed.

No, for real, I’m armed. Don’t come to my house unannounced, I may beat you to death with the old golf club I keep next to the bed. Also, all the guns.

Last night, in addition to the $200 I spent on new phone and new SD card, I also bought a $40 case at Best Buy which I was completely unable to remove this morning when my new SD card came in the mail. For some reason, the fact that the phone was stolen, the fact that my money was stolen, and the fact that I couldn’t really afford any of it, and that it all fucking happened in the middle of me feeling pretty low about everything and stressed out about the nothing/something that is innocuously referred to by words like ‘purpose’ and ‘meaning’ and ‘trajectory’ suddenly rushed me as I broke yet another nail on this damn stupid Pt case and I wanted to find the bastard that made it and teach him the meaning of suffering with the remaining fingernails I had left. Which is why I found myself practically jogging up to the roof of our four story parking garage via the center drive as I may or may not have been audibly muttering about ‘fate’ and ‘destiny’ and what I ‘deserve.’

As you can probably deduce at this point, I did not throw myself over the railing. In fact, by the time I got to the top, I realized that I really wasn’t angry at the phone case, or the irresponsible manufacturer who would put such a massive piece of defective shit on the market. I was angry at the jerk who stole my phone, and my credit card information, but who I felt like I couldn’t get angry at because that’s not the grown-up thing to do. Apparently in my insane thinking, the grown-up thing to do when bad things happen is ignore or downplay any emotions you may have and reserve them for life’s little annoyances like badly designed phone cases. At which point you hulk out and have to excuse yourself to run the parking garage in biz cas attire.