Sometimes I am not a nice person...
Sometimes, I get so angry and hurt that the lump in my throat can't decide if it's there because the anger is literally about to boil it out of me, or if the tears are going to flood it all the way back down.
It just sits there, all mad and sad and serves as a reminder that something in my life is wrong.
I put on my running shoes to out-sprint this chaos, and then took them off.
I turned on the shower piping hot hoping it would float away with the steam
I cranked my music (the aggressive kind) so loud an earphone blew out.
First I put on a deep, dark movie, then one filled with action, and finally a chick flick.
But nothing seems to calm my mind.
You'd think I'd have learned my lesson -- but I want so badly to believe that people will treat you with the same friendship and love you try and give them.
Yet time and time again, I'm reminded that these fairy-tale notions don't seem to have been taught in every household.
When you expect less of people, you have a shorter length to fall
if they let you down.
Sometimes I don't want to be the bigger person and remember that
everyone is leading a hard life.
Sometimes I don't want to be the good friend that remembers how much another might be struggling, and that they might not mean the things they say or do.
Sometimes I want to be petty and hold grudges and slam a door or two.
I'm ready for Idaho to shove off...
give me some of that AZ sunshine and a red-head or 5.