Bitter & Pessimistic, Party of One

I'm so fucking irritated.

Apparently this is becoming a permanent facet of my personality. At first I tried to blame it on winter and it's cloudy and depressing days. I tried to blame it on all the pregnancy hormones I've been around--quite possibly I'm just dealing with sympathy pains--IE: erratic emotions and massive hormone fluctuation. I even tried to blame it on Mondays, but since it's happening every day of the week signaling out just one didn't quite seem fair.

I'm willing to accept it. I'm just not that fond of people. And I'm a bitch.

Recently the longest period of time that I didn't wake up with a huge black cloud above my head was about 8 days. Of course I was reading enough books to rival the amount of breaths I was taking each day. Nothing like a couple thousand pages to distance you from your own reality. And I guess I accomplished my goal because I felt a lot better than I do now.

Now I want to take a hot bath with Def Leppard blaring. Or smash something into millions of little pieces. Or paint my apartment Cabernet red. Or drink a couple bottles of Cabernet. Or run away to Alaska never to return. Or eat a chocolate cake.

I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to be nice--I want to be honest, and that could get ugly. I don't want to make the effort anymore.

Because I'm supposed to be happy. This is the life I wanted right? So why am I always pissed off? Maybe nothing will ever make me happy. I've got my apartment and more books just for the waiting. The rest of the world can go to hell.