Anger is a Gift

Never listen to Rage Against the Machine when you are already pissed off.

I haven't set anything on fire. Yet.

Sometimes I think I was meant to be born in a post-colonial country fighting against US backed military coups.

That is such a privileged American girl thing to say.

I am so fucking angry.

It started yesterday. And the scary part of it is: I have nothing concrete to be angry about.

I don't think I have been this moody since high school.

But if I have to be institutionalized for one more year I might burn shit down. Really...do you ever look around you and think...this shit is all built on lies. And I am lying and so are they. Civilization is one big lie. Pretending hurts. Do I　sound like I have gone off the deep end?

Yes. ok. Well that is not a new thing. I do it at least once every 3 or 4 years.

Last night a friend told me that he thinks that politics and ideologies are just manifestations of emotional problems....what a crock of shit right? He says he gets his anger out by running and sex...well I have done both (on top of the political radicalism) and I am still pissed.

I want to scream at everyone to wake up. I feel like a caged tiger. Pacing back and forth back and forth.

不知道我的問題在哪裡。

Does the moodiness level out with age? Some one tell me it does or get me some fucking Prozac.

I want to be a medicated robot without feeling. Quickly. Then I can quit bitching in this electronic diary.

I realize these past few posts have been on the negative side. I believe I need more challenges in my life　and less time on my hands. Perhaps more sleep.

Getting a beverage and trying to read some Chinese literature. I am also skipping class tomorrow. And trying to get lost. Which won't be hard for me.

Anger is a gift. The kind of gift that's like ugly second-hand lazy boy chair. You don't dare sit in it because feels like it doesn't belong to you...you can however, picture it going up in flames.