My Annual Breakdown
Posted: March 8th, 2012, 11:43 am
My annual breakdown occurs on a weekly basis.
Usually around Thursdays, lunchtime.
A seemingly ordinary incident will mushroom into something huge and beyond what it should be;
Like the cat looking at me with disdain.
He cannot go outside the cat flap because of the rain. He doesn't approve of water from the sky,
he will approach me with an expectant expression on his face, like
"Well? How about it, Fatso! Make it stop!"
Then padding away in a semi-huff,
he makes sure the last thing i see are his hind parts, bushy tail flaying with annoyance.
But that is only the beginning of the breakdown.
the meat is still to come,
now that the cat has hijacked my self-esteem and opened the doorway to more masochistic distractions;
so i make myself feel worse.
i check Facebook.
like Sister Morphine,enfant queens scream
"watch me do something obscene"
and keep those updates coming,
Gov't conspiracies and police gone wrong,
profroundly glamourous profiles and YouTube songs,
Hate mail disguised as critiques, virtual hugs
comedians touting gigs and photoshopped drugs;
and the worse of it -
happy couples who just found true love on Greek Holiday Island
and have posted all the photos of themselves tanned and happy,
snogging on sandy beaches
drinking ouzo
laughing in drunken glee from conga lines;
so i flee to the old friend Cable TV
only to realise the only thing on is Antiques Roadshow
along with its strings of ads offering me Death Insurance.
And they never even sent the Parker pen.
Usually around Thursdays, lunchtime.
A seemingly ordinary incident will mushroom into something huge and beyond what it should be;
Like the cat looking at me with disdain.
He cannot go outside the cat flap because of the rain. He doesn't approve of water from the sky,
he will approach me with an expectant expression on his face, like
"Well? How about it, Fatso! Make it stop!"
Then padding away in a semi-huff,
he makes sure the last thing i see are his hind parts, bushy tail flaying with annoyance.
But that is only the beginning of the breakdown.
the meat is still to come,
now that the cat has hijacked my self-esteem and opened the doorway to more masochistic distractions;
so i make myself feel worse.
i check Facebook.
like Sister Morphine,enfant queens scream
"watch me do something obscene"
and keep those updates coming,
Gov't conspiracies and police gone wrong,
profroundly glamourous profiles and YouTube songs,
Hate mail disguised as critiques, virtual hugs
comedians touting gigs and photoshopped drugs;
and the worse of it -
happy couples who just found true love on Greek Holiday Island
and have posted all the photos of themselves tanned and happy,
snogging on sandy beaches
drinking ouzo
laughing in drunken glee from conga lines;
so i flee to the old friend Cable TV
only to realise the only thing on is Antiques Roadshow
along with its strings of ads offering me Death Insurance.
And they never even sent the Parker pen.