Sometimes, I feel so angry that I want to destroy things. Like breaking all of the glassware crap downstairs and seeing the colored water soak the rug might be kind of satisfying. Or hurling rocks through windows, or punching holes through walls. Or burning the photos and cards that I have saved.
Maybe it would make me feel a little bit better.
Maybe.
The last year of my life was basically season 3 of Grey's in which the writers said they wished to "burn it all down." Maybe it's a lame comparison, but I know what I mean.
I get hopeful about all the problems. I do. I try to be proactive, and deal with them, and take them one day at a time. But I still get a couple of hours here and there where I'm just angry. Because I don't know what pieces will work out and be better, or which pieces I just have to legit escape from. And I feel like the stupid characters we discuss in my English course, the characters who played by the rules, did everything they were "suppsed" to do by cultural standards-- and yet got fucked over in the end, and could NOT understand why. I played by the rules. Blah.
I should probably just pick something to break, or punch. Because otherwise I'll just end up sitting here....ugh, plotting and growling and scaring the cat. The cat loves me!
It's nice to have a week off-- completely off. Oh, it's glorious! I fall asleep so early, clearly I am drained. Completely and totally drained. I fall asleep around 11:30 on whatever couch I am on, at whoever's house I am at.
But, I will say this. I felt a little bit of that birthday/almost holiday magic. It was nice and warm and tingly. I love that feeling. Seriously, it feels magical. I know there's more to come. I have a lot of awesome people in my life.
But I've got to get out of this mental/emotional place.
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