Manic, Manic

There's a chemical in your brain
It's pouring sunshine and rage ...

Driving in the car.

You knew it was coming, could feel it building. Inopportune timing.

SHUT the FUCK up hate the sound of your voice don't talk don't say anything I hate you so much you and everyone you're so FUCKING stupid shut up shut up shut up - (we don't end up talking at all)

You aren't alone in the car, so you have no outlet.

Must drive safely.

Can't do anything.

But it's clawing up. You dig short, blunt claws into the steering wheel and barely notice.

Keep calm.

Keep control.

Every set of oncoming lights aggrivates it. Bright light RIGHT IN THE FUCKING EYES, FUCK.

(can she tell? I'm sorry about what I said before -)

NO I'M NOT DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING STUPID BITCH STUPID STUPID STUPID

Distracted as you pass road crews, the flickering lights at the tops of their trucks holding your eyes, until you catch your car in an unsafe swerve.

Keep calm. (she noticed that one. sorry.)

Keep control.

Every sound drags it to the fore. Everything grates.

HATE EVERYTHING.

There is a train in your path. You've pushed IT back enough to plan an alternate route, since the train ISN'T MOVING FUCK but that route takes you through Downtown. (where all the lights are bright)

STUPID WHORES HANG DRUNK OFF THEIR STUPID FUCKING MEN LIKE FASHIONABLE ACCESSORIES.

Stumbling across the road in loose adherence to traffic law are crowds of people in twos and fours. Friday night. Time to fucking par-tay. (we trade vague disgusted words at this)

She's gone. Wishes you good-night and walks inside her own house.

Somehow you manage to make it home.

FUCKING CHILDREN HANGING OUT OF DADDY'S CAR. HOPE YOU FUCKING CRASH YOU DRUNK BITCHES (I don't mean that ...)

You want to scream your incoherent rage, but by this point it's turned in on yourself. You don't scream, furthermore. A strangled, shrill noise rips itself from your throat, you claw at the foam roof, slam your palms into it, into the steering wheel. You claw your own scalp, trying to regain control.

It's not really a noisy tantrum, for all that. You don't make a lot of noise. Rarely talk unless necessary, pride yourself on moving silently. You don't laugh, sob, or groan out loud - it all catches in your throat. Always has.

It passes.

Eventually.

Walk inside. Food's ready.

(Mom noticed something wrong. sorry Mom.)

Hit a wall for the noise it makes on the way to the kitchen.

Calm enough to function.

Words come in the wrong order and I can't focus and I need to do SOMETHING but I don't know what.

(I think there's something wrong with me.)

"Hero"

Decided to poke through my phone's music player until I landed on something meaningful to write about (the Nom Nom Song being right out), and it landed on Nickelback's "Hero."

Fair 'nuff.

An' they say that a hero will save us, I'm not gonna stand here an' wait ....

So, herein we define hero.

• a man distinguished by exceptional courage and nobility and strength; "RAF pilots were the heroes of the Battle of Britain"
• the principal character in a play or movie or novel or poem
• champion: someone who fights for a cause
• Greek mathematician and inventor who devised a way to determine the area of a triangle and who described various mechanical devices (first century)
• (classical mythology) a being of great strength and courage celebrated for bold exploits; often the offspring of a mortal and a god
• (Greek mythology) priestess of Aphrodite who killed herself when her lover Leander drowned while trying to swim the Hellespont to see her
• bomber: a large sandwich made of a long crusty roll split lengthwise and filled with meats and cheese (and tomato and onion and lettuce and condiments); different names are used in different sections of the United States

According to Professor Google.

Huh, I lived on a Leander street once.

Why the hell should anybody wait for a hero? 'm sure it's great that they're marked by strength and courage and shit, but that doesn't mean other folk can't be courageous or strong. Lotta people're courageous 'n' strong 'n' ... yeah. This ain't workin'.

I'm aware. Typin' out a slur 'ssa habit from bein' all ... y'know. -ey.  Roleplay. That'n'. 'ssa good indication of being all ... unfocused. Fuzzy. Fuzzled. MR. FUZZEMS. (The terrible.)

So tired. Feel like I'm fuckin' drunk.

ANYWAY, yeah. Waitin' on a hero seems silly. Guilty pleasure here, I read romance books sometimes 'coz they're cheap, not too brainy, and often fun. Thing that pisses me the fuck off in those books is about half the time, the woman's some helpless incompetent bitch who can't even fuckin' tie her shoes without a MAN standing there helping her out. It's like ... half the reason I quit goin'a church, right? 'coz they wouldn't recognize a family that didn' have a man in it. I ain't got nothin' against men, y'know? Just, don't fucking tell me I need to have one. Fuck you an' your fuckin' "religion" bullshit keepin' good folk from doin' shit with themselves, 'coz they ain't chained to a goddamn bed.

'less they're inta that, y'know.

'n' the hero always gettin' mixed up with the protagonist. What'cha mean, the noble dragon's up there gettin' slaughtered by the wicked knight?

Honestly, though, most stories now days have their heroic sociopath bases covered.

... I think I'm pretty much 'onna have to cut this short t'say simply: Do what the fuck's right, and who gives a goddamn shit if it ain't appropriate or lawful or if you ain't the strongest or bravest person.

An' don't forget, if you do have a hero type person: they ain't fuckin' infallible. Nobody is.

Punch 'em in the fuckin' gut if they can't remember what "right" actually is.

Oh. And not every hero has t'die. There's that, too.