Despite all my rage...

The anger just won't go away. There are questions here, because there's definitely more to this than meets the eye:

- Am I mad at him for caring in a way that makes me feel small and unsteady? 

- Am I mad at myself for caring about what other people think? 

- Is it the complete loss of control that's given me a massive headache? 

- Is my unhappiness pervading every single aspect of my life right now?

- Is every single aspect of my life raiding my happy place like a crew of pirates hitting a coastal town?

- Why can't I rise above my circumstances and be a proper adult?

- Why can't I quit my job?

- Why do I care and how do I make it stop?

Stop. Stop thinking and start living. Start being yourself. 

Stop. Breathe. Remember.

Lather, rinse, repeat. I am so full of shit.

Advice is something I give without taking. Advice does not help me find the answers I am looking for. I don't know how to turn it off, the fear that drives me to all the wrong choices and places. Nothing I tell myself makes me less afraid of failure. It drives me up the wall, that I'm such a coward. In books, I am a hero on a noble quest; in real life I'm a bit of a character, but nothing about me screams "brave" - I've purposefully misplaced my megaphone. 

I stand on a soapbox, but I whisper and mumble to myself. I am not anyone's voice, not even mine. I had bigger dreams of a bigger me. Then he yells and I crumble and do the walk of shame without reason. Because nothing I did today warrants guilt or takes away from every moment of every day that I have shown myself to be a responsible person. 

Time and again I prove I am boring. Sometimes, I want to be the one in charge, because fuck fate! If I let go, I worry constantly. Something inside - something both childlike and ugly - dreads the prospect that I would dare to defy authority. I know rules were made to be broken, but I can never let myself be the one to go full-on punk rock chorus on my punk-ass schedule. I am such a fraud to the teenage skin I used to walk around in. I couldn't wait to shed it, what with the extra weight and the infinite sadness... So, now what? 

I'm hungry for more. I want to be more, be better. I want nicer clothes, cooler hair and a life of my own. I want to move out. I want to dive in. I want to forgive and go forward and be unafraid. I want to be in charge and the fact that I'm not makes me see red. Everyone has dibs, wants a piece of me, but I'll be damned if I don't steal the pie away sooner or later. Hopefully sooner, because later isn't now and "now"isn't working anymore. The present is broken and I'm looking for a quick fix. The future can't get here fast enough for me to regret it.

I'm angry and I have questions. God never calls me back. Worst. Date. Ever.