Goodnight Saigon

I dunno, I feel like I should blog, feel like I owe some sign of life to my online friends whose blogs I still follow if not comment on, feel like there's something left, unfinished, not quite ended properly here at angela-la-land. But. At the same time, I don't feel it's real. Annoyed by the use of 'but' as a whole sentence? Confused? Think yourself lucky, if you were me you would be. Both. Twice over.

But you're not me! What a relief! Let's sing it together!
And it's hi-ho silver lining,
and away you go now baby,
I see your sun is shining,
and I won't make a fuss,
though it's obvious!

I'm going to kill FussyBitch. Drown her stupid, self-obsessed self in her own 'I know you may comment that I'm living through hell but really, I'm fine, just you see - ooh, look! There's a silver lining over yonder' polly-fucking-anna-ness. Suffocation by optimism seems, to me, to be a fitting end for such a closet depressive pessimist.

Fussy Bitch is neither fussy nor bitchy enough for me anymore. She bores me with her hedge betting, her justifications, her apologies and her bland, lying to herself posts.

Conversely, she's also far too public and gently honest for those that know and purport to love me, she can't tell her truth anymore, tainted as it is by the knowledge that some readers will react to it in her life. That way, passive-aggressiveness lies. I absolutely refuse to go there.

If needs be, I'll find somewhere else to put my mental vomit, somewhere it can neither hurt nor influence those that touch the real Angela (surname changed).

Until then, goodnight saigon and thanks for all the fish.

x