What I'm feeling

Exactly why I am feeling whatever I am right now is not the topic of this post. The topic is simply, what I’m feeling. Duhh.

Some emotions are complicated, and require an endless pondering to decipher.

Others are simple; like simple enough to sum up in a few words.

I’m effing pissed.

See? Simple emotion. Nothing complicated to it at all, other than the fact that I’d rather be experiencing a happy, though complicated emotion.

So I’m effing pissed, though I’d really rather not be.

Why am I pissed? It’s because I’ve been unjustfully shoved out of the way. It kinda feels like one of those little kids who stalk a red ant and when the time is opportune, flick it off the edge of a fence or something else that’s equally high and watch it flail on the way down. Now the only problem with that grammatically skewed scenario is that I’m the bloody red ant. And I didn’t even bite anyone! Here I was happily crawling along the edge, da dum da dum, *Flick*, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah – splat.

So I’m effing pissed and though I’d really rather not be, I feel like a red ant which is now a blot on the floor.

It’s like getting an electric shock. It’s called a shock because you don’t expect it. It just happens. Zap! And you’re left with a sore, slightly burnt, and horrible feeling finger or whatever appendage it was.

So I’m effing pissed and though I’d really rather not be, I feel like a sore and slightly burnt red ant which is now a blot on the floor.

Don’t you hate it when you miss a step? One minute you’re happily (albeit preoccupied) walking and then whoosh the floor seems to disappear under your feet. You might or might not slam something into the ground depending on how quick your reaction time is, but you nevertheless feel either stupid or embarrassed. Now it all has to do with trust. We trust our feet to hit the top of the step and propel ourselves up; like when your friend offers you a seat, you trust that the seat bloody stays there. I feel like the seat has been pulled away at the last second, thus acquainting my posterior with the floor. Now sure it might all be in good humor, but it still hurts like crazy.

So how do I feel?

I’m effing pissed and though I’d really rather not be, I feel like a sore and slightly burnt red ant which has missed a step and whose posterior has met the acquaintance of the floor which it is now a blot on.

See? Simple emotion.