I was in sort of a horrible mood yesterday. Mostly brought on by myself, and only partly having to do with PMS. I hit these slumps every now and then. Sometimes I think I'm more emotionally charged than most females. I cry a lot. Over stupid stuff. Over commercials. So either way, I was in a horrible mood. I didn't want to work. On the way home I listened to Death Cab and started to cry behind my big, cheap sunglasses. And I don't even like Death Cab that much anymore. I had texted the boyfriend earlier to say that I just needed some time, that I was in a horrible mood, and for him to just call me later. The entire ride home, behind my tears, I played out over and over again what I was going to scribble in my "real" journal when I got home. It involved lots of cursing. Now I wasn't just upset, but my emotions over took me and I was angry. Angry at myself for letting someone else get the best of me. So the rough draft in my head turned to a hate letter. A letter that I would never send. But one that would sit in my journal for me to read over and over again and just put me in an even more foul mood the next time around. See, I totally bring it on myself. What is wrong with me.... But I got home, and walked in the door, and there on my dining room table was a little surprise. A bottle of merlot, and a note. I started crying again, but only because I realized what an idiot I was. And then again, how lucky I was.
I dwell a lot on the past, and on ridiculous crap that I've let get the best of me before. And it becomes easy to feel sorry for myself after a bad day. So whatever. I chalk it up to being a girl.