Bottled Up

As my name suggests I’m not afraid to speak my mind. However there are some little things I choose to let slide. I like to pick my arguments.  Mainly because it’s reduces the risk I’ll end up in jail for murder.

The problem is after a while of bottling up all these little things. I pop.

Mr. X called me a drama queen the other day. I don’t think he understands what is truly going on when I lose it.

It’s not him I’m not reacting to, he’ just the straw the broke the camel’s back. I’m reacting to all the little things that I’ve been letting slide. The idiot who cut me off, an email from an ex’s new girlfriend’s sister (true story), my step dad and then on top of all that you have Mr. X being jerky. It’s only a matter of time before I explode and someone is scraping my exploded brain off the ceiling (pretty picture eh? Lol). There is only so much a girl can take.

I am not a drama queen, I’m a time saver. Instead of reacting to each individual event I pack all my reactions into one firework filled show.  Seem logical to me.

Anyway my dears, I’m heading off to do some Christmas shopping (what tools do I need for a lobotomy?). As always stay safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch
xoxo

Quarter-Century Crisis

Did you know quarter-century crisis is an actual thing?

I’ve been suffering with some well and truly abnormal (at least abnormal for me) dreams lately. And it’s slowly driving me crazy.

So in an attempt to work out why I’m being pledged with dreams that aren’t very me I did some research. It turns out around the age of 25 your brain goes crazy.

We all know about mid-life crisis where men buy sports cars and women have facelifts. But it turns about before then a lot of people have something called a quarter-century crisis.

It’s when your brain switches to being adult. You’re brain stopped thinking about fun, drinking, sex and starts thinking about family, house, and marriage. In a nutshell it’s the start of your biological clock ticking.

The reason I’m having messed up dreams is because I’m too logical to want these things. So to get its point across my biological clock is invading my dreams. My dreams, where naked men and a murderous clown use to live. Damn I miss that clown. 20 years he’s been trying to kill me and I’m still here.

Now my dreams are a place of horror where Mr. X, fully clothed I might add, lives. And he’s not alone in there. There is a gorgeous house on a lake and a small person, a person, some might call a baby. The 3 of us live in said house, together. And the most horrifying part is I’m handcuffed. I’m in a tiny pair of handcuffs, so small they’re only fit on my ring finger.

It’s truly horrifying I know.

With my 25^th birthday still 8 months away, I'm worried, what if these dreams get worse? I really can’t take much of this. What happens if dream me has twins or worse...... buys a minivan? ...Let’s not joke about such horrific things.

If this is the start of my quarter-century crisis, something tells me we’re all in trouble. Sane me is hard enough for someone people to handle so forget about crazy, biological clock clicking, brain gone crazy me. Although on the brightside it would make for some entertaining blogs.

Anyways I’m off to do anything but sleep, (sleep in a scary, scary place right now) as always my dears stay safe.

Love,

The Honest Bitch

xoxoxoxo