The tongue of men and of angels
Have you ever bitten your tongue so hard, metaphorically speaking, that you were afraid it would fall off? My tongue hurts this morning. Or maybe it's just my pride.
I suppose I should be quite pleased with myself, having finally learned to control my words (at least the ones spoken in anger-- I still sometimes have a hard time not automatically saying something if I think it will be funny). When I was younger-- and shamefully, even recently-- I was known to unleash some pretty harsh words during my diatribes. People may forgive, but I'm not sure they forget. So it is with great caution I proceed to even consider whipping someone into shape with my razor-sharp tongue. Still, I'm quite angry that my own self-control left me exposed to manipulation and a few sucker-punches.
I guess the first lesson to learn from this is if you're trying to feign indifference, you'd better wear waterproof mascara, otherwise all your noble intentions will run down your face in what a freind affectionately refers to as "girl goop." AGGHH! I'm so mad at myself. Where I would have been justified in being angry, I sat penitent. When I tried to say he I didn't think he was understanding me, he merely talked over me until I gave up. He also was so kind as to suggest I have a chemical imbalance (his tendency to diagnose, or rather misdiagnose, everyone around him is particularly unnattractive). And even though I don't think I did anything wrong or strange or out of character, I still heard the words "I'm sorry" flying out of my mouth. Perhaps it's because it's better to leave his enormous ego in tact, or because at the moment, I wanted to make it all better. But now I feel like I was apologizing in advance for the pain he'll eventually feel when he realizes I don't care for him one way or the other anymore. Well, let's be honest. He won't even notice.
Urgh. This may be another example of having clean hands but not a pure heart. I did what I was supposed to, but I'm still not happy about it. I think I'd feel a little better if we could just lock HIM in a pantry for a few hours to think about what he's done.