This post will self-destruct in 3 … 2 …

When I start pondering aloud if I might be OK after all, take cover.

That’s the No. 1 sign of an impending self-destruct.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I could just implode properly, entirely alone, affecting no one, collapsing in on myself. But I do that every day. When it’s time for fireworks, I find an audience.

This isn’t going to get better. This is fundamental to me — only pain can pay for happiness. No amount of healthy coping mechanisms and philosophical reprogramming can take that out of my innermost self.

My ablutions only seem to make the need greater.

Self-awareness helps. Until, that is, your therapist fucking calls it and says, now Tessa, I know what normally happens at this point in your pattern. DON’T DO THAT.


I’m a petulant little child in my heart of hearts. She wants to watch the world burn.

I want to watch the world burn. Because it is too good for me and if I can’t have it then no one can.

The thing is, the crazy thing is, this is integral to not just my psychology but the psychology of humanity. No, most people don’t take direct action to fuck up their lives. Most people are able to stop and think of the consequences their actions will have on others. But I believe that underpinning all of humanity’s achievements is a worry thought: this is too good, this is too much, what if this doesn’t last?

I take steps to alleviate that worry thought. Because I cannot handle it.

I hate, I hate, I hate that all this is is an assertiveness deficiency.

Why not just use less-hurtful, still-hurtful but less-hurtful words to blow up what needs blowing up?

Why am I such a fucking coward?

As I sit thinking through what I have to say, what I should say, what would be better to just go ahead and fucking say, it hurts. I feel bad before I’ve even done the uncomfortable thing. And then I feel bad about not doing the uncomfortable thing.

And my kindling words dry out, just waiting for some alcohol to fuel the flames.

I come with a fucking giant, flashing disclaimer that no one believes.

And I do this shit to people, this cowardly fucking garbage shit, and they have to go on in their lives wondering why I hurt them.

Knowing there’s absolutely no reason, the firebug smiles, and rises again from the ashes.



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