She called me a “roach”. It was after a pretty heated argument. Intellectually I knew she was jealous, I knew she was just upset because I had gotten the promotion and she didn’t. Still I was fuming. Angry. Wanting revenge.
A roach? Did Kafka himself make his way into my life in an unprecedented move. Was I dreaming?
Because seriously, who calls someone THAT? Aren’t we a bit more sophisticated already?
But I am silly sometimes, and after I heard the rather strange insult, oh boy!
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I was swimming in a pool of anger, hatred and black, muddy waters, filled with excrement.