...45 to go.
Today was a bad day. Not that they're not all bad, but today was especially so.
Abandoned by one, or maybe two. Ignored by both, certainly. Real or imagined transgressions have made me the way I am tonight. Alone. Physically and mentally and chronologically and emotionally.
I'll get over it, most likely. I always do. I always forgive.
But what if I don't want to forgive?
What if I want to stay angry? Can I force that particular emotion upon myself when other, less selfish emotions, constantly claw and climb their way towards the surface of my mind? Can anger be strong enough to defend its position? It's never been strong enough before; that's for sure.
This bullshit I use instead of a life would be a lot more bearable if I could stay angry. At the lies. At the teasings. At the broken promises, both implicit and explicit.
I keep waiting, expecting even, for something to push me over the edge. To make forgiveness impossible, even for me, of all people. It's going to happen. Eventually.
I can't fucking wait.
I've always wondered what I would write if I were to give up.
Soon, perhaps, I'll find out. Soon, perhaps, we'll all find out.