Stand Climb And Fall/Can't Carry It All

I realized a couple of weeks ago that I'm angry. Angry at myself for the stupid things that I did, angry at him for the stupid things he did, angry at everything for making us hurt. Then I got angry at his friends (even the ones that I still liked), I got angry at loyalties and the idea of choosing sides. I was angry with myself because I wanted to see these people, but when I did it made me miserable. I got angry at the people who were supposed to help me heal because they ended up being bad for me and made the situation worse. I got angry at my crushes. I was angry at myself for liking them, for letting them use me more than I used them. I got angry with my room for not cleaning itself. I was angry with my constant emotional attachments. I got angry with my stunted creativity.

For a while I hated all these things and all these people and I felt the hatred so deeply that it disturbed me. Then I hated blogs (that one caught me by surprise too); I hated his because every time I looked at it it felt like my insides were ripping apart. I hated his friends' blogs because they had photos of him and mentioned his name too many times. I hated my crush's blog because I checked it too often. I hated blogs of friends because I realized they weren't really my friends. I hated those people who were experiencing the same feelings I was, but could write about it and express it better than I could. I hated my blog for what it had become (whatever that is). I considered getting rid of the damn thing altogether.

I hated a lot of things for some time, and I think that a lot of that anger still resides in me. I have good days, but those eventually give over to simply being good moments. A full day is not complete without some sort of rant or ill-happening.

Someone once said to me that in looking for a girl, he would like them to have some sort of dark side, some belief in bleakness. Being happy and nice all the time was too much for him. I winced at this because I wasn't angry at the time and instead, was filled with tween-aged glee. But now, a mere two months later, I feel that bleakness down to the core of my bones. I feel deflated and disappointed and tired and angry - still. Luckily(?), it's a calm kind of angry and it only ever shows itself over the phone or in my journal. I'm not raging, but fairly subdued. When it comes down to it, I'm wary. My optimism and idealism has been shot to near death and then I get angry at the fact that I'm no longer the same optimistic-idealist I once was - it's a terrible cycle. I'm so sick of it but I have this feeling that I might just have to wallow in it for a while.
12:14 am