Sunday, September 26, 2010

I find that I've been getting angry more often -- not the kind of irritation that stems from a momentary frustration which can be brushed off if you just take a deep enough breath, but the kind of anger that makes me want to go on one of those never-ending rants that always ends with an awkward silence and with me feeling embarrassed. Suddenly, I'm back to being a fucking expert with an opinion on everything. I guess I'm still a judgmental bitch, and no amount of wishing is going to make that part of me go away.

To that end, I've kept myself away from most people. I find that I'm much better behaved if I just stay in with the cats.

I always read about people wishing from their death beds that they hadn't worked so hard, that they had stopped to smell the roses and enjoy life and take more walks on the beach etc etc. -- what about the others? What about those who spent their lives walking on beaches? Are there any dying people out there that say, "Fuck, I should've done something useful with myself. I can't believe the amount of time I wasted getting sand out of my clothes."

I have a feeling I'm going to find out.

Things I would like to regret: Spending too much time riding horses, reading far too many books, and wasting too much money on train tickets.

1 comments:

elton said...

haha porcupine