Self-Deprecation Essay

    “ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?” I screamed, Joe was a smart kid but it was as if everything I was saying was just going in one ear and out the other. My temper wasn’t even at a human level anymore. You know those glass thermometers? Well at the moment I felt like one, and the mercury inside me was broiling, pushing against the frail glass. Joe nodded at me, he looked scared almost, like he wasn’t looking at me anymore, but instead, a monster of some sort.

            “Please just calm down, I’m sorry I don’t know what to say” he pleaded. I don’t know if it was what he said, or how the words seemed to make it seem like he cared very little for how angry this made me, but at that moment I lost it. The mercury burst over the top and I don’t think even sedatives would have relaxed me.

            “AHHHHHHH!” I screamed, no, roared? Growled? Whatever sound it was, it was loud, involuntary and unhuman. I grabbed the chair I sat on in the mornings to do my make up, and slammed it to the ground. Screaming all the while. The chair hit the ground with a thud, its metal base making a loud ting as it bounced once or twice after its collision with the floor, and I could almost feel Joe’s confusion and dismay with my reactions. At this point, I don’t think I truly knew why I was as angry as I was, if you had asked me I would have gone off on an all too familiar tirade of the disrespect of the agony and the confusion I felt, and how things needed to change and decisions needed to be made. But I was kidding myself, nothing would change, Joe would mess up because we’re human and I would fly off the handle because that’s what I do, that’s how I operate.

            I don’t think that relaxing is in my vocabulary. I don’t know how to unwind or kick back, my life is a constant stream of feelings and most of the time, they’re not pleasant. I laugh at myself, in retrospect of course, when I get as angry as I do, because there is no in between with my emotions. There is no slightly annoyed, kind of frustrated, somewhat distraught, no, there’s calm Brooklynn, then there’s angry Brooklynn. Now just focus on this for a moment, I AM angry Brooklynn and I wouldn’t even want to be presented with that opponent. I probably look ridiculous, like one of those cartoons with the steam pouring out of their ears, all red faced and huffing and puffing. Half of the time I’m crying, because although I try to fight it, my anger tends to release itself with tears for whatever reason. I don’t know why whatever almighty being picked me to be an angry crier, but they certainly picked the wrong person, because nothing makes someone significantly less scary than a flood of tears streaming down their face. And nothing makes me more angry than when people seeing me in such a weak state, especially when I’m infuriated.

            There are some things that we have just learned to be at peace with about ourselves, and something I have come to love about myself is my sarcastic attitude. It gets me in trouble from time to time, but I don’t mind too much, keeps things interesting. Also, to me it adds a little spice to the conversation, gives it a comedic undertone. It’s also one of the only ways I’m going to express my anger with out an uppercut to the jaw. Its better I stick with sarcasm, for you and for me. I’ve come to love that though, part of what makes me, crazy ol’ me.