Blood Type

Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy. -William Butler Yeats

I was dwelling on the fact that my friend called me a thug... Yes, that's right, my friend.

I suppose I am, to a certain extent. I can be rather blunt at times... Most times. My personality can, on occasion, make a sledgehammer look like a precision surgical instroment.

I've been going through a rough patch recently... You'd have to be fairly dense not to have noticed it.

Maybe this is my natural state... This is what I am. My life is long stretches of unhappiness, or at the very least drudgery, broken up by brief times of contentment.

Allow me to quote a few of my friends and aquaintances:

"Honey, you are the darkness"

"You are more of a thug"

"You make your own situations, it's dark, but it's comfortable"

"You're never really happy unless you're miserable"

I suppose I have to accept it. I am what I have made myself into. I have this little black cloud of my own design, and I wear it like some dark crown. I'm not down and hurt... I'm reverting to type.