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Her Bad Temper

As merry and bright as the holidays appear to be, I for one feel a sense of doom around the holidays. I feel it in my spirit, I feel it in the ever approaching end of the year. I’m not who I should be–yeah, but is anyone? I know, nobody is. But I still feel bad about it. I remember last year, hoping I wouldn’t feel like this, this year. Regrets over the mean things I’ve said to people. The sense of rage I feel often or all the time over not knowing who I am or where my life is even headed.

For me, the holidays bring a sort of solemnity with them. Because I know who I’ve been. And I might say I’ll do better next year, but there’s a good chance I’ll do worse.

And deeper and deeper we delve into the depths.

It’s cold out today. I’m sitting in my apartment and the heater is on-again off-again as often as it can be. On Sundays I am passive and regretful. I am challenged to have a good day and focus on the good. For the good is this:

It’s a day off and there is no one to tell me when and where to be.

My time is my own, and I can make things like this

15629003_2173172779575495_577684371_o

so it can’t be all bad, can it?

 

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