Cold, hard feelings
There are those certain people in the world I wish would drop dead.
There, I’ve written it. I’ve thought it, now I’ve written it.
Doesn’t make me an evil mofo.
I’m just being honest.
And really, it’s not like I sit around and wish death on people. I don’t furrow my brow, clench my fists and strain my loins to send mind rays of death out into the universe.
There are just a few people who, if they were to be so kind and drop dead, I would be OK with it.
Cold hearted, yes.
Mean, yes.
I just can’t help it. Human frailties and all.
While catching up with a friend over dinner last week, I let it slip. I let it be known of my OKness with certain people dropping dead.
“You don’t mean dead, right? You mean just out of your life for good.”
“Nope. I mean dead. Like drop dead.”
“That’s really not good karma.”
And it isn’t. And I realize it. But I can’t help it.
“Why don’t you write down what you’d like to say to them, and be over it? Tell them off, just not to their face. Present it as ‘You know who you are, here’s what I think,’ but don’t direct it at any one person.”
And so I did. After having a couple of drinks with friends Sunday.
And they were to go up on The Tension. Right here, right in this spot.
But I looked at the list, and I just couldn’t do it. In the cool darkness, with the green glow of the clock radio that announced it was a bit past 3 a.m., I thought about it. Ten thoughts that were more-or-less vicious.
I couldn’t pull the trigger, as it were.
But writing it down, I guess, was just as good as saying it – or posting it.
And I’m over it.
There, I’ve written it. I’ve thought it, now I’ve written it.
Doesn’t make me an evil mofo.
I’m just being honest.
And really, it’s not like I sit around and wish death on people. I don’t furrow my brow, clench my fists and strain my loins to send mind rays of death out into the universe.
There are just a few people who, if they were to be so kind and drop dead, I would be OK with it.
Cold hearted, yes.
Mean, yes.
I just can’t help it. Human frailties and all.
While catching up with a friend over dinner last week, I let it slip. I let it be known of my OKness with certain people dropping dead.
“You don’t mean dead, right? You mean just out of your life for good.”
“Nope. I mean dead. Like drop dead.”
“That’s really not good karma.”
And it isn’t. And I realize it. But I can’t help it.
“Why don’t you write down what you’d like to say to them, and be over it? Tell them off, just not to their face. Present it as ‘You know who you are, here’s what I think,’ but don’t direct it at any one person.”
And so I did. After having a couple of drinks with friends Sunday.
And they were to go up on The Tension. Right here, right in this spot.
But I looked at the list, and I just couldn’t do it. In the cool darkness, with the green glow of the clock radio that announced it was a bit past 3 a.m., I thought about it. Ten thoughts that were more-or-less vicious.
I couldn’t pull the trigger, as it were.
But writing it down, I guess, was just as good as saying it – or posting it.
And I’m over it.
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