I'm angry for a lot of reasons and I think that, for once, all of them are good.

I'm angry that so much of the world seems intent on taking art down, not just saying "oh, art is worthless" but looking to just take it out. I'm tired of pop culture because I hate how I pay attention to it. I hate comparing myself to other people but I can't help it. I dislike drama, needless unfairness, and cats.

Growing into an individual feels like shedding a skin. I'm so tired of being chastised by certain crowds for even wondering about certain things; expression, the Self, being happy without money. I now have the Real Job and I'll be working downtown but I've been so divorced from my true pleasures like writing and music that I can scarcely remember what acadamia or playing the guitar with other people is like.

I'm ashamed to say it but I haven't been myself, and I don't mean in the "I've been a little under the weather and just haven't been myself", but that I haven't been true to myself. I've forked over so much of me to other people (I'm not whining about being generous; I haven't been good on that, either) that I feel like I've left no room for personal development.

More importantly, the people that I've concentrated so much of myself on the past few years seem ready to just fuck off and ditch, and of course it hurts. It's very hurtful and I doubt any of my friends are so stupid and shortsighted to not suspect that. The fact that it's not addressed, the fact that at times there feels like, really, no support, is what really gets under my skin and makes me feel like I'm wearing a jacket of nails sometimes. I don't want people to look at me and see some starving artist. I'm a man.

Things are hard but I'm trying to deal with them and maybe this is the proverbial breaking of that shell, but I'd like to avoid the melodramatic descriptions. I just need to get back to me.

I've been careless with hearts, and I regret that so very, very much. I'm sorry.

This entry is half hug, half punch. It also reads like any other diary entry on this site. I apologize for sinking into cliche like an oversized sweater, but sometimes we get lost in 'em and can't see out except when we say to ourselves "god, I don't even like this color" and tear the bastard open.

I'm angry and I guess I need to be. It feels right, I suppose.