February 19, 2006

  • So I experienced an unusual amount of barely controlled rage
    this afternoon. My co-worker (the weekend guys are different) was
    talking to his girlfriend on the phone. The way he was treating her was
    fucking disgusting. Commanding her about, calling her a bitch, telling
    her she couldn't see or speak to people, and when she no doubt protested about not
    being able to speak with her friends, he would reply with: "Does that
    hurt you? Does it hurt you that you can't talk to him anymore, bitch?!"
    Evidently goading her into expressing some kind of feeling towards a
    person who was not him.

    I could hardly speak for all the hatred
    I felt towards him. It was as if his behaviour triggered in me some
    kind of deep seeded emotional response. It was all I could do not to
    attack the man.

    On the subway home, reflecting on all this, I realised that perhaps my
    motives weren't as righteous as I had thought. I seem to have discovered
    some hidden wound within me, one that I didn't even realise was there.
    You see, I think I was jealous
    of this man. Jealous because there is a girl who loves him, when he
    deserves nothing. Jealous because I am alone, and he is not.

    I'm sure you're all expecting me to conclude with some kind of
    statement about how I'm not deserving either, maybe bring in some kind
    of Christ analogy or something. No! Fuck, no! He doesn't deserve her. I don't care who she is, she should not be treated like that. Fuck him.

    That is all.