Things I Didn’t Say, Volume 4 (I think)

“DO. NOT. SING.” Also, “OMG, somebody turn off his mic!!”

“If you play that guitar any harder, it WILL start screaming.”

“Boy, you think a lot of yourself, huh.”

“Hmm. Tell me, have you ever actually HEARD yourself play?” Also, “…and you STILL don’t know why they didn’t let you play in the other church?”

“Can’t… stay… awake… speaking voice… SOOOO… DULLLLL… zzzzzzzz”

“HONESTLY. If you want to pray for one specific thing, why open it up for EVERYBODY IN THE ROOM to pray the IDENTICAL PRAYER? There are only so many ways to say, ‘Bring us a pastor.'”

“AAAUGGGHHHHH!!! That’s my frikkin’ NEKKID LEG, cat!” Ok, I admit it. I SAID this one. Several times…

“Blah, blah, blah.”

“Oh, just shut up.”

*****

Now, look.  No comments about joyful noises and all that, ok? If you have ANY KIND of musical discernment, you would have been thinking the same things. TRUST me.  After all, I am allowed to have an opinion. As for the rest of the TIDS, my patience runs out sometimes. There are those around me who love to hear themselves talk, and frankly, it’s tiresome. ‘Poke out your eardrums with a stick’ tiresome.

I wasn’t born to be social, much. Apparently.

I am a really mean person inside, with a low tolerance for stupidity. (That’s not news, I know.) Every now and then it bubbles up and spills over, and people get their panties in a wad, but for the most part, I try to keep my mouth shut. I think that’s one of the things that frustrates me most, the shutting of the mouth. It feels like I’m lying like a rug.

Every river needs an outlet of some sort, but I find that if I try to make a comment to someone I trust, they chastise me or look at me like I’ve lost my mind, when they are-by-golly thinking the same thing. I can’t be myself, because they have let me know through silence or wrist-slapping that I’m not ok. I hate that, too. I’d like to have somebody to sit down over burgers worth and just DISH, ya know?  Somebody who will laugh at the same things instead of making me feel like a heel for wanting to laugh in the first place, or try to get me to see another point of view. Nobody’s trying to see MY POV…

And I stay here why? I seriously do not know. I only know the things I can’t say out loud to anyone, not even here, the depth of the sense of failure, anguish, loneliness, and hopelessness that slathers my every waking breath. If anybody who claims to love me knew or even cared, they’d have me locked up for my own safety.

Other than that, everything’s great! It’s a wonderful day!

WOOT!

Later…