Because autumn usually brings out a bitterness in me, I've been spending a lot of time at home, or at other people's empty houses. I'm filled with rage these days; at drivers who don't know the rules of a four-way stop; at men who think that everyone has had a crush on them, at one point or another; and at a culmination of minor household catastrophes that include a non-functioning water heater, lightbulbs that seem to all die at once, and continually missing the rinse cycle to put the fabric softener in. I'm raving, I know, but I'm also so unmotivated that I still haven't called housing about the water heater, though we're going on day two with no hot water. I really don't give a shit about static-y sheets and pillowcases. And as far as men go... pffft.
I long for simplicity. But even as a kid everything to me was either laid-back as to be absolutely standstill, or the opposite; a frenetic hate-on for anything that ticked me off.
I try to counteract it all by increasing levels on the random machines at the gym, eating a whole bag of carrots (rather than fatty potato chips), and watch my skin turn orange, as I write my fury out. I don't know what I need to calm myself down. Medication, probably, but again... pffft.
But, as I am also an eternal optimist, this will all pass, and tomorrow, someone new will be writing here. That's just how it goes, buddy. That's just how it goes.