Venting

I'm angry. And frustrated, and extremely annoyed. With everything, and all of you. Most of you, the vast majority of you haven't done anything to piss me off. But EVERYTHING is pissing me off.

There are real world reasons of course; the re-emergence of white supremacists, a raging pandemic that's only raging because of intense stupidity, getting rejected by literally the only woman (well one of 2)I like, Venture Bros getting cancelled. These things cause me intense anxiety.

My patience is as thin as rice paper. In a little over a week I'll be 43. Ever since I was a teenager I was interested in being 42, because as some of you know, 42 is the meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything. My friend Janine loved the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy as much as I did, and in the Spring of our 42nd year she passed away. In my 22nd year my mother passed away, in her 43rd year. I've been dreading my 43rd year for 20 years and now it's here. Well, almost here.

I'm terrified and alone. I've been terrified of this year for years because I hate tears. And now it's here. I'm afraid of becoming my mother,  I know lots of people are but especially me, and I AM SO MUCH LIKE HER. It's scary. Alone is a relative term. I'm alone in that I feel like a boat with a big hole in the bottom. It's like, you still have a big fancy boat but that missing part is REALLY important.

So I'm really tense. And on edge. And testy. And annoyed. And I'm sorry I really am. And my heart races and I don't sleep. And I'm miserable but also not miserable because of the fact that so many people care about me living and I'm also miserable but happy with people and I hate you all and all of these things can and are true at the same time because that's being what being human is and being human is aggressively,  beautifully stupid.

"I am large. (literally) I am filled with multitudes."

Shitty, shitty multitudes.