I’m just so angry, so much of the time. Then, I’m so, so impotent. I can’t destroy anything, I can’t make anything, I can’t change anything; I just have to wait myself out, wait until I just give up, start being content.
I’m too weak to destroy anything.
I’m too listless to make anything.
I’m too angry to change anything.
It just makes me more…angry. Such a basal feeling, and the simple word a child would use to explain themselves. Still, it is the best way to describe myself. I’m angry. I can’t feel better. At least I’m not constantly down, I can’t stand that in a person; although I suppose it is a bit hypocritical of me to cast stones at people who just feel sad, when I’m always just the next emotion nearest. It would just be nice to go through a day without feeling the need to rip something apart with my bare hands, and then getting further enraged at the realization that I just can’t do anything, to anything or anyone, ever. I’m like a small, bitchy little dog that is chained up very short and far from others, and fed only vinegar. Eventually I might just work myself into such a froth that I fall asleep.
I buy the little baubles and trinkets that catch my fancy, and they make me happy. Buying them, organizing them, admiring them, using them. Cosmetics, fragrance, clothes, shoes, haircare, whatever–pathetic. I try and convince myself, people I vaguely know at work, maybe I could like him, maybe I could love him-and why? At some point he may have mentioned in passing some media that I enjoy–brought it up positively. I guess I just want to like something organic, not just all the little items I have. That isn’t enough though, you can’t talk yourself into falling in love with someone based on a want to feel, or to care, or just wanting to feel like you actually ‘want’, or ‘need’ something. I’m too picky for that, I suppose. I’ll feel that when it is actually there to feel, not just when it seems convenient and within the realm of possibility, that I could at least see him loving me. I’ll know when I see myself in love with them, not just some world where they’ve been bamboozled by my “”"”"”"”"”"”"charms”"”"”"”"”"”"”" and I can put up with them. Sure, I’d really dig total dedication and capitulation to me, but more than that, I’d like to feel the desire to dedicate myself to someone else. I’d be more than willing to accept someone who looks in my eyes like a puppy, wanting nothing more than my approval and acceptance. I’d like even more to come anywhere near feeling that for someone else, myself.
Whoever it is that may make me happy someday, whatever– my predestined dreamluvzZz– is probably long dead. Got too angry about something, just jumped through a window. My dreamgirl don’t exist, at the age of five she slit her wrist. Or working at a McDonald’s in Wisconsin, whichever version you prefer.
This devolved into something lame rather quickly.
Is there a special pill for people who are consistently mad and are too often eye-blearingly angry?
