Nothing is right side right.*

There is nothing to talk about but rage. And ironically, there is not much to say about it. I don't know what I'm mad at. Or maybe the question just scares me. Because maybe I'm mad at everything.

The biggest thing to be angry with, though, is myself. I am disappointed at how I've been choosing to face everyday struggles, at how I've been proving to be who I hate. I am mad at my being mad, at how I let despair and frustration ruin the most important relationships in my life. It breaks me to think that when I get through, what I will look back to is all that I am now in swallowing me up and getting the best of me. But then again, I don't even know how I can get through.

And I feel like losing all that I am and all the trust I put in people. I've been asking why and my questioning scares me. I want to say the world is falling apart right before me. But I am too small to claim the world. I fall into pieces alone, the world is still in its routine of chaos.

* Switchfoot, Happy Is A Yuppie Word