I have a self-destructive personality, I know that. I accept that there will be times where, when things get bad (or my perception thereof) I go into panic mode.
As I’m writing this I’m listening to Garbage’s song “Fix Me Now”... Timing?
Back to what I was saying.
I thought I lost my wallet and immediately I went into thinking about where I had put it last. That didn’t help because I realised that the last time I used it was at the supermarket. Okay, so go to the phone and start making calls. Three calls later (waiting for the office girl to get in) and I’m nowhere closer to my wallet... Heart starts racing a bit more and I tug at chunks of my head, tight enough to loosen attached hair, but not enough to leave me with bald patches. I start writing self-abusive facebook statuses, reminding myself that I’m really a stupid person (or at least one that needs a bit more adult supervision). I kick the couch (that hurt my toes a little), plus aiming a kick at the storyboard which hasn’t been restored yet to its upstanding place near the shelves.
I beat my hands against the bed, knowing that as I do it, that I look much like the child I am.
All this for a lost wallet, and the acknowledgement that I don’t have the money to replace all my cards and licences...
All this for a lost wallet that, it turns out, was not lost at a supermarket or left in a trolley in the first place.
All this for a wallet that was sitting under a blanked that was on the bed.
Immediately upon finding it, I picked up my gear and headed out to do what I needed to do.
Feeling foolish? Yes.
Feeling a bit on the destructive side? I was.
But I’m only broken if you say so.
Or I say so. I’m not sure.