pushing the sky

It’s the perverse, dark satisfaction you feel when you see right through someone’s act – it’s a evil, delicious knowledge, of just knowing that you know this person is acting, and hamming it up. If you could, you’d watch the reactions of those around, to see if anyone is fooled, to nod knowingly at the other people who perceive the fakery. But you can’t, because you can’t look away from the slow motion train wreck you can see unfolding. And you know when the moment comes you’ll laugh and you’ll sigh and say “i told you so,” and then you’ll cackle evilly. Because you’re human, and humans carry grudges, and it’s marvellous to see the begruged spiral themselves out of control.

You want to say more, but can’t without saying too much. Suffice to say, there’s a cynical smirk on your face.

It’s funny how when you find yourself with little to do, you get more agitated than when you have more than enough or too much to do. How it makes you feel guilty to say that “no, I’m not actually that busy at work…”. I suppose in the times when everything is hectic and it feels like there’s nowhere near enough hours in the day, that I’d look on times like these as idyllic paradise(s). But in the middle of it, it’s a different outlook…

To draw a bad analogy, it’s like going on holiday to a tropical resort – from a distance, it all looks marvellous, sunshine and lollipops in more than just the metaphorical sense. But when you’re there, the sun is just a little too hot, the air a little too humid and, ah fudgesticks, you just dropped your lollipop on the hot tar.

I’ll go find something to do now.