This is a really weird feeling. And I don't mean that "Scrumpy and white wine" feeling, I mean the one I had before I went to the party, when I read M'amselle's diary. The feeling is very hard to describe. In one way it's sort of like jealousy, in another anger, in another it's happiness. The mixture feels very weird, it's like someone playing with your hormones so every 2 seconds you switch emotions, and your internal dialogue goes something like;
"The bastard, the absolute idiot bastard!"
*switch*
"That's really sweet.. what a nice idea"
*switch*
"How could he??? HOW COULD HE!!!!!"
*switch*
"I think I'm just going to stay quiet for a while, and think about this one"
*switch*
"God I wish I could find it in myself to hate her"
*switch*
"And why does that idiot little child think she had any right to exist in my vicinty anyway?"
*switch*
"I wish someone had ever done that for me"
It's bloody confusing I tell you. One minute your hands are flexing as if you want to put them round someone's throat, the next you want to cry, the next you want to be sick, then you laugh and it sounds funny because you're almost crying at the same time. A very odd feeling indeed. But do you want to know my final thoughts on the matter? No, I know you don't but I don't care, you listen, I talk, is that clear?
She's a silly spoilt little girl, and because she ran off with a rich, handsome man she's getting all these nice things which admittedly I would have given her if I had the money. And by the way I bought her the first valentine she ever had, DOES THAT NOT COUNT FOR ANYTHING? But you know what? Looks only run skin deep. Real beauty is on the inside and I have a talent for seeing inside people. Sadly she appears not to have.
But the really weird thing is that I have all these feelings - real primal feelings stirred up by that stupid boy of hers - and yet I do not care about her. How odd is that? I don't care a damn about what she does with herself or her puppy-faced little bitch who has no right to exist or her handsome rich little spoiled brat of a bastard boyfriend (and I only sound this bitter because it's a habit that's hard to break) I honestly don't care. I can't even find it in myself to care enough to hate her, and even though I've got this weird cocktail of feelings bubbling up inside me and I really need a little soothing Bach before I go entirely mad, I still don't actually on a fundamental level feel anything for her.
I love my wife. She's everything I ever wanted in a person, not just a wife but a best friend. I feel like I could tell her anything, confide and share more than I ever could with anyone else I ever met. She is undoubtedly the most beautiful creature who ever lived. I could write an entire opera just about her breasts, she's that good. And that's why I feel yet do not feel. Not because I care about someone that much, but because she catres about me - and that is something SHE will never have.
Behold the smug grin. I may be anti-marriage, but damn it has it's fringe benefits, particularly the love of a beautiful woman - something M'amselle threw away when she had it, and will never have again. Keep your rich toyboy, he doesn't have two braincells to rub together and his family would disinherit him if they knew about you - so enjoy his money and good looks while they last, because neither can ever be permenant.
"The bastard, the absolute idiot bastard!"
*switch*
"That's really sweet.. what a nice idea"
*switch*
"How could he??? HOW COULD HE!!!!!"
*switch*
"I think I'm just going to stay quiet for a while, and think about this one"
*switch*
"God I wish I could find it in myself to hate her"
*switch*
"And why does that idiot little child think she had any right to exist in my vicinty anyway?"
*switch*
"I wish someone had ever done that for me"
It's bloody confusing I tell you. One minute your hands are flexing as if you want to put them round someone's throat, the next you want to cry, the next you want to be sick, then you laugh and it sounds funny because you're almost crying at the same time. A very odd feeling indeed. But do you want to know my final thoughts on the matter? No, I know you don't but I don't care, you listen, I talk, is that clear?
She's a silly spoilt little girl, and because she ran off with a rich, handsome man she's getting all these nice things which admittedly I would have given her if I had the money. And by the way I bought her the first valentine she ever had, DOES THAT NOT COUNT FOR ANYTHING? But you know what? Looks only run skin deep. Real beauty is on the inside and I have a talent for seeing inside people. Sadly she appears not to have.
But the really weird thing is that I have all these feelings - real primal feelings stirred up by that stupid boy of hers - and yet I do not care about her. How odd is that? I don't care a damn about what she does with herself or her puppy-faced little bitch who has no right to exist or her handsome rich little spoiled brat of a bastard boyfriend (and I only sound this bitter because it's a habit that's hard to break) I honestly don't care. I can't even find it in myself to care enough to hate her, and even though I've got this weird cocktail of feelings bubbling up inside me and I really need a little soothing Bach before I go entirely mad, I still don't actually on a fundamental level feel anything for her.
I love my wife. She's everything I ever wanted in a person, not just a wife but a best friend. I feel like I could tell her anything, confide and share more than I ever could with anyone else I ever met. She is undoubtedly the most beautiful creature who ever lived. I could write an entire opera just about her breasts, she's that good. And that's why I feel yet do not feel. Not because I care about someone that much, but because she catres about me - and that is something SHE will never have.
Behold the smug grin. I may be anti-marriage, but damn it has it's fringe benefits, particularly the love of a beautiful woman - something M'amselle threw away when she had it, and will never have again. Keep your rich toyboy, he doesn't have two braincells to rub together and his family would disinherit him if they knew about you - so enjoy his money and good looks while they last, because neither can ever be permenant.
