It's a strange emotion. Anger. It creeps up on you, builds slowly, then springs a leak when you least expect it.
Do I have reason to be angry? I wonder. I always tell myself that my anger is unjustified, that it's just me losing myself over something stupid. But sometimes I wonder. Let's see... what am I angry about?
A stupid, arrogant, materialistic world that's doing everything in its power to destroy everything in it?
Money?
The general cruelties of humans?
The fact that I can't really relate to anyone?
My upcoming final trial - and the fact that I can't drive December from my mind?
The way everyone assumes that I don't know what I'm doing?
A girlfriend whose life is too busy for her to want or need me?
A friend I've never seen who can't understand why I'm not interested in her bondage obsession and strange sexual fantasies?
My own self-loathing?
Parents who don't understand me (and knowing how cliche that is)?
The fact that, no matter what I say now, I will later apoligize profusely and never let the thought cross my mind again that maybe I'm not really as "fine" as I tell myself that I am?
Whatever. If I keep going I'm just going to start ranting more than I already have. I'm wrong, aren't I? I always am.
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