Drink deeply the illusion of your safety.

My, how wishful thoughts inebriate.

Hey.

This may come as a surprise to you, but I'm Not All That Content right now. Which, I'm like, okay, that's fine, right? I mean most people aren't. Right?

The problem is, that thought is WAYYYY more depressing than whatever first world problem I'm having at the moment (I'm out of shaving cream SURELY IT IS THE END TIMES). So that bit of comfort just spirals into even worse feelings of self-loathing. And it's the kind of self-hatred that, I think, stems from being a species that is filled with lunatics, scumbags, and other wonderful types that seem infinitely adverse to being a positive force. I think.

But really, it has come to that point. Small things are starting to set me off. Someone makes a remark about how I look good with a little stubble on my face and I am filled quite immediately with intense, burning resentment. No matter how convinced I am that it was a legitimate, honest compliment, it was probably a passive-aggressive jab, what you don't think I'm capable of hygiene, well fuck you, you fake blonde bitch, go get another spray tan, your orange is fading.

I even got a really really really good review at work but I can't help but have this nagging feeling that it's nothing but ageist condescension coming from someone over 30 years my senior.

And the worst part is, it's not like I don't know that I'm the problem! GI Joe told my brother that knowing is half the battle and then my brother told me that but you know what? The other half of the battle is kicking my ass.

AGH Why am I such a whiner?!