Enter Revenge

Some notes on revenge: I'm not a big fan, but I prefer anger to soul-shaking depression, so while it's here, I'll let it drive me.

The final friends said it best: get yourself out of there, and do that one thing you know will save you from utter destruction. Write, damn it.

But first, work.

I already told my mother about it, and she says, should I feel so inclined, it might be time to move on. Where will I find myself next? Will I settle again? Will I savor new-found freedom only to have to go back to the comfort of a steady job again?

A steady job is so tempting. So bloody necessary, so unnaturally liberating I can only guess I probably have no idea what I'm talking about while money and purchasing power fly in my face in sweeping, flowing pas de chats.

Anger, anger, why must you be a better ally than apathy? I was never a belligerent person, and I don't suppose I will begin snapping at random people, only that I will start respecting myself a little more.

We know this shameless self-centeredness should end soon, but let me live it out here, it's fine. I'm old but I'm stupid and I don't really care what you think.