At this point in my life, I think I just have to accept that I am an angry person currently. It’s doing no one any good for me to hide this from the world.
I try to stuff it all down because, really, what can I do about many of the things that are generating the anger? Nothing really. Some things I’m not able to do anything about, and I’m simply not willing to do anything about other things.
Because of that, I think, so then why is this feeling here? Hey, self, you need to put this away since you can’t/won’t do anything about it. It’s not going to process on its own, so what’s the point in letting it linger?
The thing is… Just when I convince myself that anger is okay and that it’s all part of the process, I catch wind of someone else’s misfortune. It’s always 100 times worse than my own, so I feel stupid for feeling the way I do. I feel like the snooty chick who is all salty because she broke a nail.
Truth is? I’m tired of this life I’m living. Not in an “I wanna die” kind of way, but in the way that means something huge needs to change inside of me. I don’t know exactly what needs to change just yet, but it’s there. It’s waiting.
I have to figure out what I need to do in order to reveal it. I’m so tired of looking within and coming up with a big, fat “I don’t know.”
A lot of things, I feel like they’re too late for me because of my age. I don’t feel like I’ll ever bond with anyone on any kind of level that I’d need to in order to find a fulfilling sex life. I’m nearly menopausal, so there are the hormone issues making that unlikely along with the emotional problems I am experiencing. I’ve never been that gal who fucks just for the sake of fucking. Ever. I tried to be her, and it didn’t work. End of story.
On and on the list can go. Too old, too tired, to much “I don’t give a shit anymore.”
But, hey, I do have the best dog in the world, so there’s that.
Look at me… making lemonade.