A girl last night told me she liked that I had attitude. Since when did I have attitude? Maybe it's something that comes with being downtrodden one too many times. Maybe it's my age, or new-found independence, or a build up of years of repressed indignation finally rising to the surface.
Lately I've started to uncover some parts of myself that have been buried deep. Anger. Selfishness. Impatience. Solitude. They sound like bad words. Bad feelings. Bad feelings with bad connotations. Looking at them you would think that I would consider it a positive thing that they've been ensconced. But I have mixed emotions about their concealment.
I feel like there's been something brewing inside of me. It started as dull as a pilot light. Now it's a roaring campfire that's been juiced up by a jerry can of petroleum. I think we all deny ourselves these feelings too often. Write them off as if they're not as worthy of our time as their emotionally-positive counterparts.
But I am sick and tired of tip-toeing around them. I've decided I'm going to embrace them.
Respect me. Listen to what I have to say. Don't fuck with me. And we'll be just fine.
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