Well done, you’ve pissed me off.

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She sat in front of her computer and wondered where and how she should start.

Let’s start from the most basic then.
Let’s just say I’m pissed off, more so than I’ve ever been in my life.

Her fingers started gaining a life of their own once those words were written.

If zodiacs and horoscopes were anything to go by, she was the best (or worse, depending on how you look at it..) of the two worlds.

A rabbit ruled by the fire signs.

A quick temper that came and went like the wind, gently tempered by the sensibilities and mildness of a rabbit.

Also helps that she has the memory of a goldfish, nothing keeps her angry for long.

Not this time though.

She really didn’t know where to start.

HOW do I tell you how much I love you yet detest you at the same time?

You bring out the worse and the best in me. You show me beauty and the grotesque; how they could live side by side, complementing yet repelling each other.

I adore you for what you are – you were interesting, worldy, honest and true.

Yet you seem to be lost these days.

Half the time I don’t know what you are or where you are going.

Maybe that was where your mystery and intrigue laid.

I’ve always fancied myself a challenge, nothing gets me more excited than unraveling a mystery.

But you do realize that in order to do that I’d need clues right?

I’m starting to wonder if I’m imposing myself on you, because the weeks of talking to myself is slowly getting on my nerves.

It’s not that I haven’t tried reaching out yo you but nothing seems to work!

Hell! Even I’m starting to find myself annoying.

Maybe I am…

Sometimes I wonder if  I’m even that in love with you in the first place.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve played the part of a lover so well that I’ve begin to convince myself that the role I’m playing is true.

Like Shakespeare said –
All the world is a stage, and the men and women merely players with their entrance and exits.

Perhaps it’s time for my exit.

I’m done being angry, it’s making me tired and numbing my senses.

I’m angry because I feel like an idiot, listening to your lies and lofty ideals. I hate being treated like an idiot.

I hate being left wondering, with no conclusion or goal insight. That idleness kills me and you knew that.

So why do you still treat me so?

Her fingers flew off the keyboard, like a pianist on fire.

Yet, the more she typed, the more she felt like a loser and tears threatened to fall.

She got tired and began wondering if she was the one at fault, taking things too seriously.

Her anger was starting to dissipate, there was no need to continue her rant letter anymore.

Because at that moment she realized.

There really isn’t a point in getting angry, her anger meant nothing to them.

She meant nothing to them.

If she left, they could and would simply replace her.

So whats stopping me from leaving those jerks? From this shit of a mess??

Her fingers froze midair, she realized she didn’t have an answer to that question.

She stood up and began pacing the room.
Her thoughts running amok.
She couldn’t figure it out and it was killing her.
Her head was beginning to throb.

Well done! You’ve managed to fucking piss yourself off again.

Why do you always have to do this?

She saved the email, turned off her computer and went in search of some sleep.

Yes, sleep would do her good.

She will seek her conclusion tomorrow.

A fucking conclusion is what she needed.

Or wanted.

Not that it mattered anymore…

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