Mad As A Hatter

As crazy as it seems, the last time I flew into a rage was the other night. I made a horrible mistake, and I let my emotions get to the best of me. Looking back at it, I looked ridiculous. If anyone else had seen me, they would have thought that I was acting insane, that I was being overdramatic. But, in the moment, I didn’t feel like I was. My anger, my  lashing out, felt justified.

Here’s a little backstory:

Last month—to the very day, actually—I wrote a blog post about an item that I wish I had, but could not afford in the slightest. I went on and on about how I couldn’t come up with the money for it, no matter how many times I tried to save some on the side for it. Being the person I am, I desperately wanted a MacBook Pro.

And, well, my mother made a deal with me. So long as I promised her that I’d go back to school, she’d help me get one. We [metaphorically] shook on it, and now, I’m paying her back (slowly) in (small) installments for this wonderful gift.

I am extremely ecstatic, and way beyond grateful, to say that I am writing this entire piece on my long-desired MacBook Pro.

And this is where our story begins. You realize how expensive these little machines are, right? Because I sure as hell do. I’ve looked into them long and hard enough to know just how expensive they can be. So since the minute my mom handed me the box with the apple on it, I have been very careful with it. I have yet to get it a case, so I’m acting as though this thing is an egg, and I am in parenting class.

I really, really want to take good care of my newest child. You know, especially since it’s what I’m going to be using when I go back to school, and for my writing. And as of right now, those are the two most important things to me. (Besides family, of course.)

So, the other day, I left the laptop out in the open to charge. Before then, I hid it away in my sock drawer, because I didn’t want anyone using it. And while I’m out with my cousin, Rebecca, I get a text from my sister, Brianna.

At first, she asks if she can use my iPad—a gift I had gotten myself about a year ago. Even though I gave her a hard time, I told her that she could use it. After all, I wasn’t home or using it, so why not. And then I remember that my iPad is in my room, only about two feet away from the laptop. The same laptop that was left out in the open.

You see, I am not as fond of sharing as I used to be…especially with Brianna. She’s had a history of taking my things without asking, and losing my things, and breaking my things, and well, just not respecting my property—or me, as a person, entirely (at least that’s how I felt). So when I remembered the laptop, after I had already told her that she could use my iPad, I got a sudden flash of anxiety.

And then I got more texts, asking whose laptop was in my room, and if she could use it.

I really did not want her touching it. Hell, I didn’t want anyone touching it. It was mine, and I didn’t want to have to worry about her damaging or forgetting it somewhere. So I told her no.

But what you don’t know about my sister is that the word, no, is not in her vocabulary, so long as it is directed towards her. She is relentless, and she will not stop until she gets what she wants. Sometimes, that could be a good thing; but in this case, it was not. At least, not for me.

She sent me a string of messages asking to use it. I told her I didn’t want her taking it, I didn’t want it anywhere outside of the house, that I just got it, and it wasn’t hers to use. And then I stopped answering her messages, entirely. I even turned off my phone for a little bit.

But then, I turned it back on, because I wanted to text my dad, and let him know of my whereabouts. And after he replied, “okay,” he told me to answer Brianna.

Of course she had to bring him into this, I thought to myself.

But I answered her anyway, because I try my best to do what I’m told. I didn’t want her using the laptop, and I reminded her of that. But this time, she threw money into it. And it’s not like I’ll do anything, as long as money is involved; it just sounded so tempting because I really needed the money.

It’s not even like it was much, but any amount helped. So, I told her what she had to do, in order to be allowed to use my laptop: have it back where I had it by the time I get home from Justina’s house, and send me the money. I didn’t think that I was asking for much.

Well, as it turns out, I wasn’t very exact about what I wanted, because when I did get home, my laptop was nowhere to be seen. Brianna took it with her, wherever she went.

I went crazy.

I called her up immediately, in a rage. “Where’s my laptop? Where are you? Get it home right now, I told you I didn’t want it leaving this house!”

I paced around my room, around the kitchen, into the living room. Oma asked me if I was okay, and I wasn’t. I was upset. I was disappointed. I was pissed.

And the worst part was that I knew that if I let my sister use my laptop, that I would have regretted it. And boy, did I. Once again, she betrayed my trust.

And I know that I sound so pathetic to have let her use it, just because she was giving me money. I know that. I felt like such a jackass.

But, instead of letting myself feel the guilt, I pushed it onto my dad. I screamed at him for getting into the middle of it. I yelled at him because I stressed it that I didn’t want the laptop out of the house. I didn’t even want her using it in the first place, but the fact that she took it out of the house sent me into such a rage, and being in such a hostile state bothered me to no end. After having a screaming match with my dad, who did no wrong, I went to my room and let the attack happen.

I felt it coming as I was yelling at him. I felt my breath begin to shorten, and my head writhe in pain. I couldn’t be in front of anyone while I let it all pour out. I closed my door shut, and locked it. I paced back and forth across the twelve feet of my bedroom, unable to catch my breath. I didn’t know if my brand new laptop was okay, or forgotten, or stolen, or broken, and I was not okay.

But I knew how to take care of myself. I let the attack wear itself out, before texting Brianna to bring it back. But she didn’t have a care in the world, not one fuck was given. I was so terribly annoyed and upset and emotional, and she didn’t care. All she cared about was herself, as usual. And how I felt about her in the next hour and a half of waiting for her to get back to the house with my stuff was nowhere nice.

The only thing that could take my mind away from it was comedy.

So I watched videos until she showed up with my stuff. I even prepared a whole speech about how she clearly didn’t respect me or my stuff, and that she was to never borrow anything of mine ever again. But the videos calmed me down, and I was almost completely back into my normal state of mind, when she finally showed up, and gave me my stuff back.

Nothing is perfect, and I am sure that this grudge will be held onto for a little while, even though she did technically apologize. I just can’t stand not being seen as an equal and someone to be respected.

I’m annoyed.

Please forgive my ranting.

Prompt: Tell us about a time when you flew into a rage. What is it that made you so incredibly angry?

Posted by

A twenty-two year old who lives through words and her Netflix account. She makes herself laugh more than others, and she claims that she is okay with that.

One thought on “Mad As A Hatter

  1. OMG , I would have been pissed to no end !!! 😡😡😡you asked me to let you use it and I finally agree and you do that — NEVER AGAIN
    You had every right to be mad


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