|Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson|
There probably are indeed at least half a million things that bug me. People who stand on the bus without hanging onto anything, for example (you just know they're going to blunder into you at the next unexpected halt). People who walk at anything less than a brisk stride (if they're in front of me). Little annoying human habits that drive me into a raging [wind]fury.
Because I endeavour to be a halfway-decent human, I keep my fury hidden as best I can until it subsides on its own. Sure, sometimes when random strangers are in close proximity I have to actively, repeatedly, inwardly tell myself don't knock them over, just don't do it—but that's a different conversation.
But there are even more things that are more than minor annoyances. Things that awaken a deep dread or terror. Things that make me sit in the pouring rain for 40 minutes rather than board a bus that might be uncomfortably crowded. And all these million things used to keep me at a well-maintained level of unease, which came to be increasingly broken by peaks of anxiety that set my heart racing in an infuriatingly unexpected and uncontrollable way.
Losing control over your emotions is a terrifying thing, and if those emotions end up affecting the way you can function in the world, then you are in a losing position indeed. I think it's shocking for everyone when that tipping point is reached and the most apparently sedate person lashes out—and perhaps most shocking to the person it's coming from. That's when I know it's time to get off the island for a few days.
When it comes down to it, the list of Things That Bug Me is actually pretty short; I could elaborate on a lot of the points, but I think most things are encompassed by the following (in no particular order):
- other people's opinions
- the word "whinging"
- the guy upstairs
- other pedestrians who obstruct my own pedestering
- unnecessary noise
- invasive landlords
- when people believe that their likes/dislikes are objectively good/bad