So then I tried to write some poetry instead - keep up the angst levels, y'know. Doggerel. Utter doggerel. Which, I realised quickly, is the point of deeply angsty posts, but I couldn't bear to have anyone else read it, so evidently I don't actually need to post it.
It's just...hard. Things are hard and life is unfair. I know that's the way it is, but I reserve the right to sulk about it nevertheless. And perhaps it's because I don't believe in karma that nothing of a karmic nature seems to happen to me, but surely in some way, given how much love I send out in the general direction of people...~sigh~ I don't know. Maybe it's getting caught by a bank and turned into an investment of some kind. I can hope.
And I have so much to say to certain people. And I can't bloody say any of it because it involves so much exposition and no matter what order I do it in, something's going to make them go "Argh! Run away!" before I can manage to explain to them why it shouldn't.
I've already mentioned how much I hate having something to say to someone and not being able to do so.
So, yeah. One of those evenings again.
I either foresee a lot of them - which is bad - or none of them - which might be worse.
On my way home from the station, someone threw broken glass at me. Again. I don't usually mind living here, but it does get on my nerves at times.