I hate slamming doors. I get really angry when I FEEL the door slam. When I used to live in the Oasis during my residency, doors would slam left and right because people would leave their windows open in the afternoon because it would get so hot and that caused the doors to slam. It would slam so loud that I could feel the vibrations against my wall and it would rattle my door. The only reason why it pissed me off is because it scared the shit out of me and the only reason why it scared the shit out of me is because it was an unexpected startling event. And, the bottom line is: PTSD. People would slam doors in my past. I did. They did. We all did. For all reasons, all negative. Very dark. Very deep. Very painful. So, every fucking time you slam that door, I want to yell, scream, get up and yell, “STOP FUCKING SLAMMING THAT FUCKING DOOR” because it brings me all the way back to the deep, to the dark, to the painful. That’s the only reason I’m angry, because I can feel the heat rise from my back, creep up my neck and then all over my face. I can feel the warmth on my face and the startle just turns into pure ANGER. I don’t know if it’s a defense mechanism or what, but it makes me want to jump out of my bed, catch who the fuck that person is and tell them to fucking stop! I’m serious! I’m a really, really, really nice person and I am the last person you would think that would do anything rebellious, but I got so fucking pissed that I started slamming my door the whole night. I slammed that bitch so loud that the whole other wing of the Oasis heard it. They thought somebody got in an accident because at that same time, an ambulance parked outside the front of the building. It was just a coincidence but the resident nurse that evening asked what that noise was and I just looked around and acted just as perplexed as they did. Shit, I didn’t do shit, inconsiderate mother fuckers. It’s crazy how a trigger, a simple shutting of a door, a vibration, a bang, can bring a human’s heart fluttering to a fight or flight charge… that was me. It scared the shit out of me that I said, “FUCK!” Fuck… just fuck… Fuck. *shakes head* I just kept slamming that fucking door and the person who originally started slamming their door complained about my slamming. Mind you, I already complained the “proper way” and “adult” way by reporting it to the resident nurse but they never complied to my plea so with my frustration, “That’s it, I’ve had enough. I’m not getting any sleep tonight and neither is the rest of this hall way.” That was it and that was all. I’m old already. Don’t bring me all the way back to when I was 4… in the dark. In the deep. In the painful. Fuck you for slamming that door. I’ll come over there and slam your face right on that door knob, you inconsiderate fucking depressed old grumpy man. Get some professional help and get some anti-depressants!!! FUCK!!! Fucking hate people who have a mental illness or a medical condition and they don’t fucking do shit to help themselves and all they do is bring that negative energy around and it affects EVERYBODY around them. INCLUDING ME. I work so hard on my happiness, it fucking PISSES ME OFF that I have to put up with other people’s SHIT. How the hell did this … nevermind. Just… time to chill. *sigh*
Disclaimer: Yeah… I did not have the term “rise” in my vocab at the time I was at the Oasis… as you can already tell from my blogging.
CHANGE TOPIC QUICK!!
So, did I tell you about my first world problem today? Spanks got a run on them. Mm-hmm. Yes. Quite the tragedy. Did not wear those to the job interview. Mmmnope. Nope, nope, nope, nooooope, nope.
And remember… … go beyond and… RIIIIISE. SLAM and ditch.. kidding.
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