self-righteous misery

Try as I may, I cannot let it go. The issue that has arisen between my flatmate and myself is a disgusting sore that seems to fester and grow as the hours pass. Why can't I just let it go? It's so insignificant. I really really want to forget about it but it seems I've picked up the Ohri stubborness that holds grudges. In fact, I picture myself arguing and rationalising with her, exactly as my dad did with us, making the same gestures, inflicting the same tone of disgust and disappointment like mud in the eye. Obviously I think I'm right. We all have this fucking need to be right even if it makes life absolutely miserable. And all of a sudden that makes me think of Lebanon and Israel right now...okay , so I think about that a lot lately, but you can probably make the mental leap if you're reading this particular blog. I actually had a rant prepared on that one but I decided to cool off and postpone as I'd probably be on the hit list of some crazy-ass group that had convinced themselves I was some sort of anti-semite. And I think I used the word 'fuck' for every other word. I probably would have sounded like a raging drunk. Ha-ha.