Weapons of Self Destruction

Ignoring the fact that it has been an eternity since I have actually written on this blog and that this is just going to be something of a rant, albeit one of my more brief rants, let’s jump right in.

I am nearing the end of the third month of my unemployment and so far this battle has left me wondering why. Why do I continually put myself in these situations? The answer is simple – I can’t get enough tragedy. I am disaster: a Weapon of Self Destruction. Like the WMDs that have often littered the headlines of CNN, a WSD is capable of widespread devastation, but instead of being hidden in secret bunkers in a country across the globe that we somehow can never find, the WSD is located within.
Once I took this Facebook quiz that was supposed to match your personality with a type of weather. Mine was – no surprise here – a Tornado. I took this as confirmation that I’m scary, that I pretty much come out of nowhere, terrorize the land and leave nothing but destruction in my wake.
So why all this destruction talk? I start to wonder how I always seem to end up here, standing in the ruins. Times where I have single handedly laid waste to the life I had put so much effort into building. Because for whatever reason, I keep ending up here. And as the timeline of my life lay out in front of me, it dawns on me that this is what I am: a Weapon of Self Destruction. I can trace back a decade at least and find that there is a pattern for me. Every two or so years I am packing up a school, a job, a home or a relationship and starting anew. Sometimes it was obviously the right thing to do and other times I cannot explain my innate need to tear it all down. I am destined to wreak havoc on my world on a bi-annual basis and I don’t know why. I could go on about the WSD that lies beneath my exterior, outlining my devastation in a very detailed timeline that would literally blow your mind, I won’t, but I could. The point here is that it is a pattern of behavior for me. And that I don’t know any other way to be.
Strangely enough it is not the act of destruction that bothers me – actually it kind of fascinates me. What bothers me is the fallout, the nuclear debris that I am left with afterwards. Somehow I rip everything apart and surrounded by the rubble I’m surprised to find that rebuilding takes time. It takes patience. It takes sheer will. Which to a normal person is a concept that it fairly easy to understand. However, I am anything but. I’m sitting here, stuck in the aftermath. It’s dark. It’s quiet. It’s lonely. And it generally sucks. I have tried to find some silver lining to close this with and I have been so far unsuccessful. I guess I can only take heart in knowing that “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” so my life can’t be either.

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