There is broken glass all over my apartment. Two glasses were broken. One of them was thrown at full force at my wall. The other fell off my desk while I told her "Get the fuck out of my apartment and don't ever come back." There is a hole in my wall.
From one end of my apartment, which is at least 35-50 feet long, I hurled a glass in an uncontrollable rage at the wall. The glass shattered so completely, so fully that every inch of my apartment is covered in glass. I found glass in my bathroom, in my bedroom, on my pillow and in the farthest untouched corner of my bedroom. Every place I thought the glass could not have made it to holds pieces of glass. There is glass on top of my refrigerator, on top of the door frame, in my bathtub, in the space between my fridge and the counter, in pots and pans hanging over my stove, on the toilet, and even inside of clothes hanging in my closet. The glass is in shards and in chunks and in the finest powder that cannot be carried by a broom. I will be breathing, eating, and drinking broken glass. I will be discovering new pieces of the broken glass for the rest of the days I will live in this apartment. It is 1:45 a.m. on Thursday evening and I am done.
4 comments:
That's no way to deal with mom.
Um, I was pretty sure I had dibs on throwing stuff during insane moments of rage (or, really, anytime else). Get your own character quirks, sir.
Note: The key is to retain just enough control to 1) make sure the thing you're hurling (or snapping in half) is not too valuable and 2) hurl it into a place calculated to do relatively little damage.
I've failed on both counts before (damn you remote control for my stereo receiver that is no longer manufactured), but, trust me, you'll get better as you get more experienced.
Best Wishes and Happy Hurling!
H
Actually, this is not the first time for me, nor do you have a monopoly on rage violence. Recall what happened to the Burch wall when I was antiqued by Dave. The first I threw something was when I threw my digital camera across the room in a sublet we were living it. I broke the camera and knocked a hole in the door.
Who was it that described the catharsis of uprooting a baby tree and beating the hell out of a bigger tree with it? Was that you?
i believe a phone has suffered your violence as well. perhaps you're due for a reminder that physical violence is not the best way to express your rage. i prefer eating copious amounts of chocolate and drinking myself into a stupor.
p.s. don't drink/eat glass. that can't be good for you. and aren't they paying you enough at biglaw to afford real food?
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