demise by sponge.

Well here I am. It's five-thirty in the morning and the probability of sleep any time soon is about 10%, so I took my chances at lack of sleep and created yet another blog on the internet. My apologies.

The reason for my urgent need to start blogging begins with ants. Yes, ants. Ants have managed to push my poor mentally unstable and exhausted brain to its max, in effect, causing me to have a full blown melt down.

Tonight after dinner I went to make a cup of tea and decided cake was a good idea too. I picked up the cake and there were ants. Not many, maybe 10. But four in particular were seemingly ecstatic over their tiny crumb and I found myself fascinated at their ability to move this crumb from one side of the bench to the other with such speed and grace and absolutely no yelling at all. It was like watching the discovery channel. But in my kitchen.
So anyway, my mother comes to look at what I'm so very enthralled by, and so begins the meltdown. She decided she has to kill them immediately, to which I disagree rather passionately by covering them with my hands. Im not opposed to killing ants, I realise that while I don't like to kill any living thing, sometimes its necessary. But after watching Fred, Fred Jnr, vladmir and Jillian work (insects need names too), I had decided to give these four enthusiastic insects a live pass. I told my mother I would get rid of them but she kept trying to kill them anyway, so I figured, I'm going to have to move this outside. So I pick up a piece of paper, had it almost under the four ants which were about to walk right onto it, and with one fell swoop, my mother sends them hurtling to their demise. The bitch.

Enter yelling, screaming and even hitting here. Followed by crying, storming out and the contemplation of suicide. Yes. All over four ants.

I barely function as a human being these days as it is, I have no excitement in my boring, pain filled life, and to be fair, my mother has been a bitch to me since birth, but her blatant disregard for anything but herself and her need to always get her way tipped me over the edge.
After storming out with no where to go, I sat at the end of my street which over looks a valley. The almost full moon made the tree tops glisten and my hair blew around my face in the wind, (it was very dramatic), and my thoughts flowed back to my childhood and of being tormented by my mother, (or as I have re-named her, Satans master), being made to feel horrible about myself, that everything I ever did was wrong, and then back to the present moment and realising that absolutely nothing had changed (honestly, the ants were just the straw that snapped my hypothetical brain-camels back), and it was then I realised that I desperately wanted to stab her in the neck with a blunt, rusty knife. It was also then I realised that I quite possibly need therapy. Or anger management. Or a joint.
I looked up at the stars and silently begged for a being from another planet would hear my pleas to disappear, kidnap me and take me to their world where I would become their queen and would rule over this new alien race with a firm, but kind hand, until the day I died, which wouldn't be for at least another thousand years, because people live for a really long time on this new planet. And I would genuinely want to live that long because I would be happy and in love with Steve Zahn, (as their queen, I obviously got to pick him up on the way back to said planet).
But alas, I am still here. There were no beings in spaceships, no Steve Zahn and no stabbing. Just frustration, insomnia and ants.