Rage rage go away…

By • Oct 28th, 2010 • Category: Diary Of A Kampala Psychopath

I went to the therapist today. Interesting that therapists are supposed to heal the mind, but the word therapist breaks down to “the rapist”. Inconsequential and purely circumstantial of course, but nonetheless a nice tidbit to turn over in ones head.
My aunt has been telling me I need help. God knows what for. She says I am strange because I have no friends. Why would I have friends? People bore me. People irritate me, they slow me down. She slows me down. I told her these things a long time ago. I am not making that mistake again.
I am unlucky in the sense that I have a rich idle guardian. If she was broke or busy she would give up. But no. My aunt is obsessed with me; always hunting down some new theory to improve me. Looking back I am surprised she has never thought of a therapist before. She has done everything else from getting witch-doctors and to pray for me to hooking me up with nice church girls.
She is lucky I still need her.


This morning I cleared my schedule. Put on a decent looking pair of pants, cut my hair, trimmed my nails, and ironed a shirt. Ditched the jeans and t-shirts, I had to make a good impression. This had to be gotten over with as soon as possible. I was going to kiss the shit out of that therapist’s ass. Wait, that is kind of funny.
Walking out of the hostel I caught the eye of the girl from 404. She threw me a look that must have been intended to be flirtatious but merely managed to make her look like she had toothache.
“Hi Reggie” She said twisting and squirming around the door in some alarming coquettish display.
Oh fuck.
“As you haven’t greeted your sweetheart today?” she pouted.
Nga as you are leaving early? Anyway I made some-ka nice breakfast. Oba you first come in? Bambi It is nice I promise. No first wait and eat naawe! (Silly laugh) ok fine but beep me when you come back in the evening. I will be waiting, Reggie you’ve started your things again! You can’t even greet me did I say anything yesterday first wait!!!
Free labor can be a bitch.
Good morning, I have an appointment for 11 o’clock? Dr. Katwesigye?
Smile. Relax the muscles around your mouth. Keep the edges of your lips from trembling as you do so. Create creases around your eyes. Show just a hint of teeth. When people see you smiling, they will assume  that you mean them well. So they will relax.
The receptionist, a greasy faced little woman was nattering loudly to someone outside. I was prepared to dislike her on the spot. A luxury I rarely allow myself. In addition to talking loudly, she was looking at a picture spread in a local tabloid and simultaneously filing her nails. I tried to avoid looking at the big bottomed house girls shoving their asses up at me from the page.
Excuse me? Calm, courteous, clipped vowels to create the sort of urbane accent bitches like these gobble up.
Greasy face hacked away at her talons.
Saw saw saw
Good morning? Hello?
Saw saw saw
Greasy Face exploded. “What!”
Deep breath. Anger is a reckless and dangerous emotion.
I have an appointment. 11 o’clock.
She shoved a blue plastic square at with a number on it at me. “You are number 7. You can wait there.” She pointed at the moth eaten couches in the corridor, then went back to filing her nails.

I sat on the couch. I was trembling. I stood up. I sat down. I was getting angry,  slowly but oh so uncontrollably angry. I knew the feeling of pure rage gnawing relentlessly at my sanity. I had suffered at its hands before. I tried to analyze the anger. I listed all the chemicals that were pouring into my brain. I meditated with ferocious intensity on the tendons that tightened in my neck; the  battery acid like bile that flooded my mouth, the hammering of my heart flinging itself against my ribs. The anger was going to consume me… I was nowhere near in control. I was nowhere. These were the times I knew I could kill someone.  I needed a diversion. I had to get control… I needed a distraction, a challenge of some sort. Someone or something to wrap my brain around before I did something that would make life even more difficult for me than it already was.

“Number 7 please!”

I was calm again.

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