I Think I’m… Angry?

How’s that for a way to feel. It’s kind of like settling in on a drive and realizing half-way there that you have no idea where you are going, so how do you know if you’re half-way?

I mean, I could be just fine and over-reacting to every little thing in my life because stress sucks and, well, I have enough to share with a few friends (but I won’t share it, because it’s mine. Mine I tell ya!).

And another thing that’s fun… this feeling of anger sort of just hovers in the corner, like some sort of extra pissed off Jason Vorhees or Michael Myers, waiting for the moment when you think everything is going to finally smooth out and….


It’s machete time and you’re just the idiot in the movie you would normally be yelling at to run or not go looking around in the dark corner. I mean, seriously, those people just sort of deserve to get hacked up.

And, like in the movies, that’s when I start to “Run, Forrest, Run!” And Anger is in hot pursuit, clawing at me, trying to drag me down, causing my blood pressure to rocket, my heart to race, and my mind to spin out of control… but never quite catching me because…

Apparently it’s wrong for me to be angry about things.

Seriously? Do you see the machete that I’m wearing like a Mohawk? I didn’t do this to myself? Don’t I have the right to be angry about it?

Hrm… angry about not being able to be angry… I, um…

I guess…

I guess I’m angry.

Go figure.



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