I swear to God, I'm so ready to get out of this town.
This afternoon, I went out to my car, just going on a little drive to get out and clear my head a bit. I noticed that my CD insert (it used to be attached to my visor but that fell off) was no longer in the passenger seat, and my phone charger was out. I panicked, checked everywhere, and my fucking GPS is gone. That's all, but it's a big fucking deal- it's $300 I don't have to spend right now and I need it because I'm moving to an area I'm unfamiliar with. I've only ever been to Austell to go to Six Flags.
I screamed, I cried, I considered running down some tourists in my car. I think we should all be very glad I don't have access to a gun, because you can be sure I'd be out there interrogating people on the beach until I found someone who knew something. Hell, with everything that's been going on and my level of anger at just having to live here, it wouldn't take much to push me over an edge right now. Crazy runs DEEP down my mom's side of the family and I could snap at any moment.
I feel like I'm pretty mellow most of the time, but there's the few occasions, like today, where I have this bottomless pit of rage inside me and I can't figure out how to get rid of it. I honestly believe that if I'd been given the chance I'd have snapped someone's neck. And I don't like that. I don't like feeling pure, black, thick hatred like boiling tar inside my head and my heart.
I know I need therapy. Really. But I can't afford it, and I can't take another touchy-feely New Age hippie that constantly reminds me I'm in a safe place. I FUCKING GET IT. Phobias and neuroses and psychosis don't have to make sense, they're mental illness. Like, I know intellectually that not everyone is judging me silently (and sometimes not silently), but I feel that way. I can't fucking help that.
But, anyway... I've got to get back to packing my shit up. Later.