When I picture who I would be in the movies, a character who has, in some fluffy fictitious world, had what has been inflicted on me and what I have inflicted on myself also inflicted on them...Someone who has played my ROLE if you will, it only makes it worse that I am some spectacle.

A cliche. A broken woman behaving like an asshole with no dignity. A raving, desperate wretch. I am more on par with that embarrassing phone call moment in Swingers or that insane, pathetic moment of sadness and despair where Kate Winslet walks into an opaque, gray sheet of rain toward some vague and impossible goal in Sense and Sensibility, only to wind up with nothing but a near fatal fever.

I so envy that cold, internal battle that people see on the busy, throw-yourself-into-it professional. Catherine Zeta-Jones in Reservations, where she has just those and preserves herself elegantly from heartache with distance. Colin Firth in Love Actually, who just leaves his beloved woman and his sleazy brother and hits the road...to a worthy love. These noble, stoic tragic characters are always amply rewarded, even those in the shamefully unacademic examples here. I know I know others, but right now, my brain could not be more warped with self-pity, shame, self-doubt and loathing, fear, rejection, misplaced, love, confusion, loneliness and every sort of internal conflict I could get going in here.

There is WW3, Revenge of the Asshole, happening in my guts and heart and mind and I don't do all my best reasoning, or pop culture quoting, at times like these. Though, actually, at moments, my writing does seem to improve a bit.

The question that remains...who is the Asshole we are avenging? And the answer? Too complicated for words. We have all played the fool to some extent, some more than others, and some a far darker jester, one with less love in his heart. But in the end, we are all assholes.

I guess that makes me...Well, I don't know who that makes me, character reference, anyone?