me, in an annoying kind of way

It’s not like I try to be annoying. It’s not like, when I wake up in the morning I say to myself, “Self, what are five ways we can successfully annoy people today?” Either I’m terribly gifted, like a savant annoyeur, or I just stumble upon ways to bother people on accident. Maybe other people stumble upon these same things and either don’t notice these opportunities, or choose to forgo them. Not everyone is as opportunistic as I.
I can’t seem to help myself. I TRY to be a normal person…or some semblance of a normal person. I go to work, I eat my dinner, I laugh politely when it is generally appropriate. Although I frequently use the F word when it is NOT appropriate, so there’s that. But really, I can probably blame most of my annoyingness on my dark side, and my romantic nature.

I fall in love. Look, I can’t help it. I have a big heart, and I’m needy, and I’m an artist to boot. I love rainy nights, and holding hands, and impossible relationships. I fall for cute guys on television and sometimes my postman. And when I fall, I fall hard, and far, and deep. And then there’s nothing to do for it but to talk about it. And cry. And whine. And drive everyone around me completely insane. But that’s what life is for me, a big fat ball of emotions and love and pain and angst and NOW. I can’t pretend that I don’t hurt when I love, because I always do. I take things too personally, and jump on board too soon. I chase them off, and weird them out, and make them wish they’d never laid eyes on me. Then I just poke their eyes out so they can’t ever use THAT excuse again.

And my dark side is just as bad as my romantic parts. I have a past. I have skeletons. I have hurts and wounds and intimacy issues. I don’t know how to let my guard down, and then when I do, I’ve let too much of it down. I forget to play hard to get, I wear it all on my sleeve and I overreact. I blame my stupidity on various scapegoats, and fear I’ll never be loved again. If I had more money I’d be downing Jack Daniels every night like Janis Joplin did, or at least a bucket of margaritas per week, because sometimes having this much feeling, and passion, and longing, and emotion is just more than I can bear. So look, I’ve even annoyed myself!

God I’m good at this!

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About denelle

writer. artist. ponderer.

Posted on April 8, 2010, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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