When I am not otherwise engaged in full-on denial--and let me tell you, in my family, we have cultivated an amazing capacity for denial of the whole gamut terrible, horrible,very bad, no good events, trained by years and years of circumstance--I am seemingly only capable of two feelings: sheer anger and utter sadness. Both bringing about a full helping of incomprehensible (in the sense that I don't know how to deal with it, not that I don't know why I'm feeling it) frustration.
In other words, I've regressed to the terrible twos.
I just wish it was acceptable for me to throw an epic tantrum at least once a day, then. It wouldn't change anything but, as any two year old would tell you (if they could), it'd at least compensate for...something, for a short while.
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I'll Be Seeing You (cover) - Francoise Hardy and Iggy Pop
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