"...and I hope you are having the time of your life..."
I thought everyone was always on the verge of either anger or tears.
I thought that everyone wanted to die.
And everything good that happens is "luck."
And unable to care either way.
...and thus, I must not be crazy.
So, I sucked it up, dealt with it, walked it off, lived with it, and worked around it, because…
I wasn’t just king of the hill, I was King of KickAss Mountain. I got the awards, earned the bonuses, bought the toys…
The attendant mood swings were epic and often ugly. Happiness was rare, but anger was a running theme. I was mad at everybody, everything, and myself, and I could never quite figure out why. That anger saddened me and I really didn't like me very much because of it. Hell, since we're being honest, I hated me. I loathed me and the impact of me on those closest to me. No one deserved a dose of "me", and I couldn't figure out how to fix it.
But, I could fake the fuck out of being "normal."
I could force a grin onto my face, and shake hands and slap backs and make small talk and write the exams and go to the dances and parties and, later, close the deals and give the seminars, and write...
...and it took a toll.
And death began to look really, really, attractive.
Life is no longer so much damn work.
And being happy is no longer something I have to remember to do.
Now the anger is an emotion, not a pulse. I am no longer low-key angry about everything.
Now, I am angry, and happy, and sad, and all those other emotions, in balance, not out of proportion.