Me(an)

I have this cauldron of frustrated misery almost bubbling over inside me. It's giving me fantasies of being recklessly, fearlessly, and most of all, obnoxiously, rude to the females at my workplace, of speaking all that's been on my mind to all of 'em, save Jessica.

Goddess knows - I know - I'll regret it if I should realize my fantasies; still, I'm very, very tempted.

It's spiteful, it's puerile: it's me.

I can't help being me(an).

Of course, it doesn't help that they and that place are the way they are, either ...