I'm angry that my brain is filled with thoughts of my ex, that she was in my dreams. I'm angry about the things I done. I'm angry I can't change things. I'm angry that life seems to be full of goodness for her. I'm angry that I wake most days feeling stagnent and drained. I angry that I'm unable to let go. I'm angry about being me. I'm angry I don't have the skills to easily build and maintain relationships. I'm angry that I haven't been able to be vulnerable and tell the truth about what I was feeling. I'm angry that I'm a coward. I angry about the total mess my life is in. I'm angry that I feel unable to stop being angry at myself and this is what makes my auto immune condition worse. I'm angry I feel so much hurt, hatred, jealousy. I'm angry about the condition of my body. I'm angry about what happened, angry about all the destroying things that happened. I'm angry I'm still alive and don't know what I'm meant to do with this steaming pile of shit. I'm angry I have no eyes in the woods. I'm angry I need to build myself a life with no hands. I'm angry at a culture that tells you you should just get over it, become a millionaire with a best selling book on Oprah's book club list. I'm angry that all the people that don't survive, that haphazardly muddle through have no memorial or celebration. I'm angry at my grandmother and her oblivion. I'm angry the last time I enjoyed summer was five years ago. I'm angry that I am angry. I am angry that I'm angry. I'm angry that I have energy to write this but not my application form. I'm angry at myself for being so broken, for not being perfect, for all the times I presented one thing (intentionally or not) and I was another. I am angry my ex was in my dream. I'm angry that this relationship won't leave me. I'm angry that I don't know or understand what it's all about.
I could cry now. Sorry if that was too much