Today I became so angry that I punched my own fist into my palm, so angry I yelled out (very much Out).
I would like to say that the situation deserved it; it did not. I overeacted. Mostly at my own inadequacies.
I think my knowing how much I was to blame for my own failed situation caused me the greatest anger.
Can't I just be naive and blissful? Can't I blame all my discomforts on others, just once?
Yeah, so, knowing full well I could have prevented it, I let myself really experience a burst of anger today.
It felt good. It felt dirty. It felt like sticking your hand in the vat of beans at the grocery store.
But nothing felt as good as when it went away!
The moment I realized I was allowing myself anger, the anger subsided into a feeling FAR greater than bliss or the naive relaxation of blaming external factors.
* * *
And therefore, I randomly want to post a photo I only half-like -- a crappy scan of a photo about which I feel equanimous.
What a waste of time liking something is, if liking is all you're doing.
If I don't partially want to throw it away, it's not worth it.
If I haven't ever tried to give up on you, on us, I don't love you as much as I could.
Fear is a sign of intense desire.
My fear is a sign of intense desire.
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