Aggression is something that naturally happens when I’m quitting, so I was interested to see how my rage levels would rise with drugs giving it five-across-the-eyes. So far I have threatened Flatmate with:
Murder (I found out she deleted a program I wanted to watch)
Murder-suicide (I found out I had drunkenly given her permission to delete it)
A merciless beating (She expressed fear)
and finally..
To ‘rip your Christmas tree apart limb by limb and douse it in battery acid’ (I only do it because I love her)
I also managed to blow up at MexicanTacos more in one week than the entire time I’ve known him (which is never, so that statement was a bit shit. Carry on). The episode I’m most ashamed of occurred in the middle of the office, ending with me shouting ‘SHUT UP I DON’T CARE I’M NOT DISCUSSING THIS ANY MORE’. But really, how DARE he try and help me by gently explaining how I could add an economics minor to my degree by taking one more economics subject, the nerve of some people etc.
Lucky for my loved (and hated) ones, since the first week the rage has faded, mostly kept in check due to sheer exhaustion. While I’m not about to go around hugging bitches, nor will I cut them.
Although if some people must insist on turning the volume of the television up to a level that is NOT a multiple of 5 I can’t be held accountable for my actions.
December 21, 2011 at 9:48 pm
Dear Flatmate,
It takes a strong person to ask for help. Speak out, don’t be scared.
Love,
Us all
P.S. If it really becomes scary, just throw a steak with sedatives inserted into it at her. She’ll be curled in a corner drooling and snoozing in no time.