Rewriting to remind me that it gets better.
"April 2, 2012, 6:44 p.m.
Stuck at work and hating every minute of it. I've been enveloped with disappointment all day. I am mostly disappointed at myself, how I let things get the better of me, how I am suffering the effects of how I react to some things, how I let them affect me so much. But truth be told, I am getting by the best I can --- one foot in front of the other. There is no other way. [Insert expletive here], I am too old for this."
In other news:
I owe this blog a poem. Or two. Is it happiness if it takes you away from the things you love to do, i.e., writing? The curious result of this exquisite feeling is that I am bursting with words and images, ingredients for a poem or a painting, but no way to rein them in, no means of capture in the hopes of immortalizing them. Happiness, I guess, is the poem, the story I do not write.
But write I will. There is no way to silence the words. Some stories need to be told. It's just the way it is.
Stay tuned.
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