worthy

i had always believed, or rather, hoped, adulthood would come with some degree of self awarness and possession.

i find i was yet again desperately wrong.

of course i also used to believe i would only have one overpowering feeling at a time.

today i find i am entirely tranquil, pleasant even, after a morning at the van gogh premiere at the dean and a lazy afternoon nap.

but neither of these glorious things has negated or even balanced my thick black anger-disappointment double header. It is unreasonable I can care so much when the last thing in the world I want is this unbridled attachment. It is unfair. It is bullshit. I want out.

I want to believe me.