Or: why I should really remember to take my medicine and not go nearly an entire week forgetting it.

Though, I can’t blame it all on that. I am validly upset at somethings, and irrationally so about others.

I try not to blog rants about myself, but I am having One Of Those Days. One Of Those Weeks, really. And damnit, its my blog. I’m human, and I’m allowed to be irritated and rant about it.

I’m irrationally furious at the world. Everything. People, school, work and money (or the lack of those things) and myself.

I even got annoyed with my ratties the other day, and yelled at them.

I stormed out of a class on Wednesday because of the stupidity around me, and because I felt that if I stayed, I would have started screaming at people.

I’ve rather felt like screaming quite a bit these days.

This is all despite having an exceptionally fun, social week. I’ve had good times with people every night since Thursday.

I’m also feeling…things I don’t like again. I’m feeling depressed, and I’m probably going to end up crying. I’m feeling negative things about myself. When I get depressed I start to feel ugly and stupid and fat because my mental image of myself starts to get all distorted.

I’m feeling lonely, and wanting of non sexual physical affection. I want to be cuddled and petted.

Unfortunately, I’m also ridiculously horny and on edge. I haven’t had sexual contact with anyone since camp, and it starting to get to me.

I’m feeling neglected, and shafted.

I’m beginning to feel annoyed with all the men in my life, even the ones like Franklin and my Dad, who have been nothing but wonderful lately.

Every time I sit down and try to write, I blank out, or it comes out wrong, because I’m so irritated.

I feel like flinging glasses against the wall, but I don’t really care for the fact that I’d have to clean them up afterwards. I want to yell at people, but I don’t feel like dealing with the results of said yelling. I want to fight, but I really don’t want to get my ass kicked. I want to go out tonight, but the idea of putting on clothing and actually going is starting to feel overwhelming. While I have a destination and a plan, I don’t have a partner in crime to go with, and I get anxious about going to new places alone.