It's a Bad Idea, but Here it is Anyway:

ANGER POST.

You know how people always say to write a letter to someone you're really angry at in order to calm down? And then when you're done with it, and you feel better, you tear up the letter and move about your life? That's what I think I'm doing write now. I KNOW it's a bad idea that I'm making it a blog post instead of a letter, and worse that (if you're reading it) I've decided to post it.

But I'm going to post it anyway, because I'm seriously annoyed and in a severe self-destruction mood.

I CAN'T STAND THESE PEOPLE.

I think I've gotten to a point that I'm just sick of this place (my high school); I've been here for four years, and I'm ready to move on. It makes me a little worried about later in life, when i'm going to have to put down roots and have a life and stuff, but that's something to worry about a different day because right now all i can think about is how easily I am angered; The littlest things drive me nuts. Usually it's not even something specific-- it's like a collection of tiny things i notice about a certain person that suddenly explodes and then I really  notice it. I can't stand them. Just things they say; the things they say over and over and I know that to them it's a new situation that calls for it, but I'VE heard it TEN THOUSAND TIMES. I know all their stories, I know all  their catchphrases-- I know everything there is to know! I know the way they talk, I know the things they like, I know can guess their reactions to almost everything. It's like, I KNOW ALREADY. To be honest, it's just their personalities. I've been friends and had classes with the same people for four-- sometimes as many as seven-- years. (YEARS)

And I know what you're thinking; Alexa, are you okay? Alexa, are you going to blow a gasket?

YES. YES I AM.

I don't want to scare you, honestly. I don't want you to be all paranoid that you are the reason I'm so *AHHHHH* because, seriously, the odds are that you aren't. There are just *certain* people that I really can't stand a majority of the time anymore.

The worst part of all this is that I think it isn't even my friends. I really think that it isn't their fault at all. One of my friends is always saying "I have serious issues" and normally it drives me nuts, (because I realize that you want to explain away your eccentricities but I'm your friend. I already like you. You don't have to explain yourself to me), but I've been thinking that applies more to me than it does to my friend. I realize that I can never compare one type of 'crazy' to the other, but I don't feel normal. I don't think normally. And everything is so fished up-- I DON'T TALK TO PEOPLE. I can't share what I'm thinking about-- not about the things that matter.

I worry that all this anger and depression or whatever is like, smashed down, silently repressed feelings. Mommy issues, daddy issues, life and death issues. I don't talk about stuff like this because when I was little, when I was younger (13, 14, etc) we didn't talk about it in my family. My mom was always the too-busy type. She focused on the little kids--which is fine, don't get me wrong. I love my mom and dad a lot. They are seriously great. But my dad was no better-- he had two moods; goofy or cranky. How does an awkward kid like me talk to either of them? I either didn't want to distract my mom from her kids, or was afraid that my dad would react negatively to my insecurities. I've never felt safe with my emotions and the reactions of other people. So I didn't talk to them about how sad i was; how much i hated the things i did and said; how upset i was-- ever. Even now, when I know how dangerous it could be if I don't talk to someone, it's hard. I talk a bit to a social worker at my school, but i worry if it will ever not be enough.

I also worry that i worry too much, and that i focus on this too much ( I don't want to be like them-- repeating the same thing over and over again-- and never moving on or changing) instead of dealing with it. I feel like I've moved on from my birth-mother's death just fine, but now i have to deal with Jayne's death last year... and I'm not ready to do that. It's been a year and a month and two weeks and a day, and I still feel like if i go to Vermont, she'll be watching TV in my grandmother's house.

Whatever. It doesn't really matter. I should go work on my book.

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