Inner turmoil and confusion

I'm taking a little break from the madness that is the end of the Fiscal Year to clear my noodle. I have a glass of water, a banana (which is making me sick) and Dwight Yoakam spinning in the background. The office is chillier than I prefer so I'm wrapped up in my giant, green cardigan.

I have a weight on my conscience today. I'm not sure if it's eoFY angst, PMS or having to wait two week for lab results from the doctor. So...I shall bore my dear readers with my addled thoughts in hopes that I sort them in the process of writing them down.

Earlier this week (or maybe it was last week), I wrote of helping a non-friend, an un-person. I am still agitated by the fact that I'm watching something really unsavory go down and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Sometimes, people need to phuck up for themselves to realise their mistakes and (hopefully) learn from them. As I stand back and watch, helplessly, as this drama unfolds...I feel truly awful and horrible for the blissfully unaware victim.

Now...here is the sad, pathetic thing about me. The unaware victim deserves absolutely no sympathy on my part. None. Everything I know of this person is fiction, deeply based in deceit. I am feeling sorry for someone who deliberately tricked me for personal benefit.

Many people who know me know that I have a false sense of idealism. I do have a tendency to don the rose coloured glasses and look for the positive in everything. It may not be apparent if you're only reading my vents and frustrations, but I firmly believe that people are inherently good. I hand over my trust the way people dole out candy on Halloween to trick-or-treaters. I figure that speaks volumes about me.

Then...I got burned. Badly. Ok...not burned, but scorched and seared. I have learned. I have learned that some people are not worthy of trust. I have learned to be less promiscuous with my emotions. I have learned that people need to earn "me."

I still, however, have not learned what to do in a situation where compassion is involved. It is virtually impossible for me to kick back my heels and delight in the misfortune of others. I cannot take pleasure in that. I so dearly wish I could. I cannot. I cannot find the ability within me to say, "that phucker got what he deserved."

That makes me angry and sad.

So...here I sit, at work, fretting over a situation which has nowhere to go but straight down the toilet. I'm worrying about someone who treated me like absolute crap, who isn't worthy of a single good thought emanating from my brain. I'm starting to beat myself for not having the where-with-all and the dignity to say, "phuck it all." I want so badly to snicker and sneer. I want so badly to delight in the pending doom. Yet, I cannot.

Time is the big band-aid. It heals everything. In a while, my wounds will be less tender, I will be wiser for the experience and perhaps...I may even have the ability to tell people to "sod off" and mean it. I may be able to turn the deaf ear the next time froggy comes a courtin' for sympathy. The toad-froggy who doesn't deserve anything from anyone.

In the interim, all I can do is sigh and blog, I suppose. And...write stories.

...to be continued.