fire-breathing.
You wouldn’t like me.
She thought.
If you knew.
No, I mean really knew.
You wouldn’t like me at all, if you knew how angry I get.
If you knew that my tongue bifurcates when I get pissed. That it splits like a snake and venom spews from its apex, into the face of the unfourtunate victim.
“Bitch” takes on a mythic poignancy for me. It makes words like ”pusillanimous” and “vituperations”, my usual daggers, seems like toothpicks that eke out yesterdays microscopic breakfast from between my teeth.
My mom tells me to be like Sita, the demure and silent Hindu Goddess, revered in the mythology. The irony is, I take after her namesake, the warrioress, Kali. When I transform, a necklace made of the heads of the individuals unfortunate enough to have spoken the unpleasant catalytic words sprouts miraculously around my neck.
You’d hate me.
If you knew that sometimes my eyes roll and roll and roll, like a pin ball stuck in some garish arcade machine, when I listen to you. Really. They don’t mean to. But when I pick up my phone, its like you put in the quarter, and the ball ejects, spinning and spinning in it’s futile little orbit atop my face. I love you. But you’d hate me.
You’d hate me if you knew.
There are moments where nothing matters, except making sure I use the beautiful crutch of my language, to construct the most corrosive and volatile solution of words I can. The very same solution that I hope burns the eyelashes off your face with its glowing aciditiy when I chuck it at you, beaker and all.
I tap out bombs of verbiage, weaving scathing circumlocutions like wire, and detonate them with one “RETURN”.
My heart races and begins ringing out the tune of a death knell with every execution I wish upon my own blood for their meager and insensitive words.
There’s a small part of me that probably would pull out your hair in anger, if it weren’t such a typically catty thing to do.
And let’s be honest, “anger management” is just a fancy way of saying, “dear god, help me not revile all of you”.
Haha.
For realz.
You’d hate me.
Because I know I do.
