Oooh there’s the misdirected anger


Two posts in one day. It’s amazing what death does.

I’m not sure that my anger is actually misdirected or justified or being directed in one place that’s legitimate until I can direct elsewhere.

I like to tell myself that I live by a philosophy; I never expect good things because I’ll only be disappointed. I think I’ve written about this before; not being a pessimist but what I call a realist. Well once again, I seemingly have fooled myself into thinking that I believe something that actually isn’t true. I actually expected people to call me about my mom dying. I’m so stupid. Why would people who I have cooked for after their surgeries, sat with when they were recovering from illnesses, called when they were sad or hugged when someone hurt their feelings…why would any of these people call me when they found out my mother died? And yes, they know. I know it for a fact.

It’s my fault really for not making sure that I was realist down to my very cell structure. I somehow let some little particle of expectation find it’s way into my brain. I’ll own it. I was dumb. Lesson learned. Oh wait, it’s not. Because even as I write this, I am secretly thinking that someone might call this evening. So I’ll place a bet with myself; the me that believes in people and the me that thinks people suck and we’ll see who wins. I’ll update tomorrow and I’ll either be pleasantly surprised or smugly pissed off.

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About CimmarianInk

Abuse Survivor Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder PTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) also known as Multiple Personalities
This entry was posted in dissociative identity disorder. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Oooh there’s the misdirected anger

  1. ~meredith says:

    Imagine yourself called online, and excited about the white chocolate macadamia by cookies.
    Hanging around, Meredith

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