The thing is, I was in a good mood. The day began, and I didn't feel too upset by that. The day continued on, and while that's generally not the kind of thing I would condone, I didn't have a problem with it. Evening arrived.
My mood changed.
Nothing specific happened, nothing to anger me or set me off. Just…my mood turned.
It's one of those moods that feels like you should be able to at least say, "it's hard to describe," when you talk about it. But really, it isn't. It's very easy to describe.
I feel like burning down the world.
I try to think about my loved ones, or the beauty of the planet, but I can only think of the asshole who waited at the stop sign for .5 seconds and then pulled out in front of me while I was driving thirty-five miles an hour. How I had to slam on my brakes, how I almost had to drive up on the curb to avoid hitting him.
With his stupid-ass, pimp-whisper of a moustache and his cap pulled down and his purple-tinted windows and that motherfucking accordion bass line music. I tell myself that his heritage doesn't matter, but it's the third time this has happened in four blocks, and if I could burn Mexico to the ground for spawning this asslick, I'd do it in a heartbeat. The screams in their foreign tongue would sound like prayer.
I think about the douche-drip cyclists who ride their bikes down the middle of the street and the middle of the sidewalk and down the middle of everything they can fit their stupid bikes on. I want to kick over each and every bike, I want to smash out the rider's teeth with those stupid pussy helmets they wear, I want to choke them to death with their too-tight outfits. I want to watch them dance themselves to ash in a bonfire of burning rubber bike tires and "Be Kind To Cyclists" signs.
I think about a pigeon that flew straight at my face, and I wish that I had caught it and ripped its wings off and doused it with gasoline and released it into a hillbilly-packed Wal-Mart.
I think about oceans of flame and skies blackened with burning everything. I imagine prairies of roaring fires, and air too hot to breathe. Vision blurred by heat, the entire world is wavy. A hunger so absolute that it cannot stop until there is nothing.
And then the silence. The isolation.
No job, no car, no house. No grocery store, no bank, no freeway. No neighbors, no cyclists, no drivers. No borders, no nations, no wars. No cats, no dogs, no birds. No fish to feed, no plants to water.
Only settled ash and gray skies, and the smell of violent cleansing.
I would look over my land of loss, my kingdom of nothing, and I would love it more than I've ever loved anything.
And then I would die.
Because nobody can live like that.