The Wrath of Holliberry

There are one or two things in life that make me truly angry.

1. Lying. I would not advise lying to me. It invokes in my a white hot rage. Not the kind of rage that might entertain certain people who think it's fun to tease me. The kind that makes you wonder why I am so calm... and why it is freaking you out.

2. Conversations between people that involve the phrase "we won't tell Holliberry because it will upset her/make her angry/ crush her soul." Because usually it's just that the parties involved just don't want to deal with my reaction, be it anger or irritation or whatever. Plus they usually don't know my heart as well as they think.

Example: I had not so much even a crush, but a bond with a boy in my school days. My roommate knew it was not a real crush, because she knew the actual boy I had been crushing on all year. After I graduated the past roommate went on a date or two with said male friend. In a conversation between one of my closest friends and this roommate during a chance meeting on campus, it was decided that the roommate should not tell me they had gone on a date, because "it would upset me." Apparently the two of them decided it would be irreversibly damaging to my psyche. Which it totally wouldn't have. It was actually more upsetting to me that they thought I was sitting at home pining over this guy who was definitely not pining over me, and that I was so pathetic I had all my hopes pinned on a relationship that clearly would never happen, where no feelings had been declared on either side, and where the boy was never interested in me and never would be as anything more than a friend. (Not a problem, I had other boys to crush on.) Because apparently I'm dumber than I thought, and they saw the true me, the one who was delusional about love and must be protected lest we have to put her in straight jacket or lock her in a tower and hope she doesn't burn the house down or something. And I'm pretty sure the boy was under orders not to tell me, too. Which, hello, ego much to buy into the idea that I was all the sudden desperately in love with him?

I hate that feeling when you have a very clear sense that the person or group of people you just had a conversation with had mapped it out in advance in order to "handle" you. I don't like to be handled. It makes me cranky and brings out my stubborn streak. And last I checked I don't generally fly into rages, and I rarely break down into tears (if you disagree with that, you're probably the one person who has seen more tears fall out of my ducts than you might have thought humanly possible. Most of you have rarely seen me cry- crying over math tests doesn't count).

How about you? Do you want them to keep it from you or tell you? See the little comments option down there? You should use that... Then I'll know if anyone's actually ever going to read my blog.