Monday, June 2, 2014


I’m so angry. I’m angry about so many things that I’m not even sure where to begin. Actually, that’s not true. I’m mostly angry at myself. I’m so angry that I’m turning 30 this year and have done almost absolutely nothing with my life. I know I’m not that old, but I just feel like I could have done so much more with my life up to this point and I haven’t. I still have no idea what I want to do; I wanted to be a psychotherapist, I wanted to be a profiler with the FBI, I wanted to be a psychotherapist again, then I wanted to be an astronomer, then I wanted to be a photographer, and now I want to be a writer. And what have I done about any of those things? What have I done about being a writer? Yes, I’m writing this now, but goddamn it, that is not what I mean. I want to write novels. I have the ideas, but if given too much time with those ideas, I hate them and stop writing them. Even this- I hate this. I want to stop writing this because I hate the sound of my own voice in my head. I hate that this table is wobbly and is distracting me. I hate that I can’t effectively smoke a cigarette and type this at the same time. I’m angry because when I do start to write, I veer horribly off course and don’t get to the point. I’m so goddamn angry. About everything and nothing all at the same time.

I’m angry that compared to my peers, I suck at being an adult. I don’t even know how to go about being a real, live, responsible adult. I feel like I’m walking around pretending to be an adult, but really have no goddamn idea what I’m doing. I have no idea how 401(k)s work; if I had to do my own taxes, I would be audited, I’m sure; I hate cleaning, so I don’t; I hate doing laundry, so I don’t; I hate working out even though I need to because fuck you metabolism, but I don’t; I love playing bullshit games on my Nook, so I do. ALL THE TIME.  I’m so goddamn angry. I’ll be perfectly honest, I don’t really like me all that much right now. I don’t like that I’m lazy and lack focus. I don’t like that I do nothing to fix that. I don’t like that I know that I need to fix it and how, but I don’t. I’m embarrassing. I’m awkward. I’m insensitive. I’m overly sensitive. I’m hypocritical. I’m condescending. I feel like I’m not a good friend, daughter, sister, aunt, girlfriend, employee, or person. Why anyone would want to be around me, I haven’t the slightest clue. God, I hate how fucking whiny this sounds.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not always angry. I’m also happy at times, sad at times, and other emotions that I don’t feel like thinking of. I’m sometimes silly and hyper. But I feel like my go-to emotion is angry. Even when I’m joking around, there’s a bite to it. I feel like it takes so much for me to move from the emotional range of “blah” to “holy shit, this is awesome”, but at the drop of the hat, I can go from “life’s pretty great” to “I will fucking cut you”. Mind you, I never would. I’m an angry person, but I am not a violent person. I don’t want to hurt anyone. In fact, if I feel like I’ve hurt someone, be it physically or mentally, I can’t stand it. I just want to make it right. Unless you’re an asshole and hurt someone else. In which case, I fully stand behind my side-eye and snark.

What kills me so much is that I have nothing about which to be angry. I have an amazing boyfriend, I have amazing friends and family, I have a great job, we’re about to get a beautiful apartment. I should be so happy, and I’m going to contradict myself for a moment and say that I am. I am happy, but some days I’m just so goddamn angry. 


  1. I feel the same most of the time. We should throw rocks at things.
    Drunken, smokey, rock throwing. Because, to your point... adults.

  2. I like this plan. Shall we put it on the schedule?