To Come Undone
It’s a bit disturbing already when death is something you think about all too often. And it’s not just about anyone’s death – it’s your own.
I close my eyes and all I can see are visions of me falling horribly to death. I close my eyes and all I can see is the blood that would ooze out when I put a blade to my wrist. I close my eyes and I could almost feel the cold metal of a revolver in my lips. I close my eyes and feel that loneliness of not having to open them again.
Death is something that looms in my head like a heavy rain cloud. I know I’m not stupid nor irrational to attempt such indications of suicidal tendencies. But history says that my mental health could very well be susceptible to it. After all, a broken heart is all too vulnerable for such thoughts.
In light of this violence that has enveloped me, I have come to seek vengeance toward my work woes in the form of some anger management game that is suppoosed to relieve oneself of that desire to kill. Trust me on this, but it does help. And as this sketched boss delivers his lines that indicate what kind of an asshole he is, the worker takes matters to his own hands and finds quite useful office materials to bring the boss down. Anyone who’s ever had to deal with a boss – not because he was paranoid and thinks his boss is out to get him, but someone who’s been given shit because he was a likely target – would enjoy this game as much as I did.
At least today, when I step into the office, I could always play this game. I wish my boss sees it and notice the glimmer in my eyes that sends her reeling back in her chair in horror. I’m pretty sure I have all the tools I need in my desk and I have to admit that I’m liking the scissors all too well.
