I believe it is fair to say that the reason for my head feeling full to the point where I couldn’t really think about what I wanted to write, was due to anger.
To me, I don’t like the idea of anger being a negative word. There are outlets for anger and I can assure you that I’m not interested in physically fighting anybody or getting into screaming matches for the sake of having a release.
I am angry, though. I think of it as being what any one person would be if they were in a similar situation to myself and felt like there wasn’t much hope for change.
Happy people are happy because they have fewer reasons to be angry. Simple, right?
They probably have a somewhat fulfilling job that pays them decently and/or offers a great work environment with nice people. I do not.
They probably have a significant other or at least, a confidant that they regularly talk to. I do not.
They probably have an idea of what their life will be like overall in the next year or so. I do not.
Being angry isn’t a choice. If it was, I would choose to be happy instead. I guess I’m just the kind of person that drives from passion. I am fine with admitting being a passionate person.
I guess I’m just passionate about a lot of different things. Even more so during these strange times.
It would be nice if I was making progress of some kind, though. Even if it was just one date night out, a new pair of tennis shoes, or a good conversation with like-minded people.
I still have hope.