Revision

I find myself filled with rage. Not just some kind of percolating anger, but rage. Rage at the world for being so judgmental and cruel. Rage at the unfairness, the sadness, the ugliness. Rage that Annabelle will someday know what it is like to have her feelings hurt and her heart broken. I want to protect her from all of these things, but I know there are limits to what I can do. Someday I won’t be there and someone will say something that takes that sweet smile from her face and the twinkle from her beautiful blue eyes. Something that will make her sad. Or make her cry. The thought of it makes me so depressed and angry — almost despairing.

I just want to scream sometimes. When I was going through my breakdown in 2006, I would sometimes get in my car, crank up the music and just scream at the top of my lungs. That’s what I feel like I need to do right now. Either that or go out in an empty field somewhere and smash some crystal or fine china to smithereens.

I guess I still have issues.