Venting the teapot
Now that I’m not using I don’t sleep so well. It’s not like I slept well before, more like passed out, but there’s something to be said for oblivion. It’s like closure, never as healthy and satisfying as we’d hoped but at least it’s an ending.
And so late at night I write these posts. Which strikes me as a better use of my head and hands than You Porn.
Writing vents the teapot. Otherwise, I’d lie in bed thinking about Sarah maybe and her new life without me. Or the crap I write at work. Or my fat boss and his boss, the dinosaur with the Chinese tattoo. And then…
And then I’d get angry, worked up, and I’d want to do bad things.
The worst is when I just lie there not sleeping and think about all the bad things I’ve already done. That’s the worst. Regret trumps anger.
Writing vents the teapot. Tonight it has saved someone from me.
Chicago Psycho 