Crusade.

The jazz roars in Starbucks, and I am outraged that a short coffee costs as much as a tall. Dark roasts have less caffeine, did you know this? I am listening to the Cold War Kids. The album of theirs I want is not available on iTunes. Rage, rage, I am raging, burning, a crusade against the face in my mind, the voice in my head, but this time, not mine. Oh father, you are an emotional eccentric. I am reading a book about Borderline Personality Disorder, and it’s like reading a book about my dad. Easterners will deny mental health care until held at gun point. A psychiatrist even said that to me once, in slightly different terms. I was not offended. Tears for Fears soothe me, as always. I am always a moment away from disaster, from emotional disaster. I can feel my throat tensing and releasing, wanting to cry. I am incapable of this.

There is a collage in front of me, of Columbian and presumably Ethiopian farmers. There are beautiful portraits and shots of bean processing, in tasteful black and white. Though buying from Starbucks is still better than Folgers or Maxwell House, they’re still neglecting to showcase that they pay about $0.23/pound of coffee. Statistic from the documentary Black Gold.

My rage is my biggest asset, I suppose. It’s why I care about human rights, and am stirred so deeply by mistreatment of any kind. Rage is easily turned to passion, and of that, for both creation and destruction, I have plenty, though really, they’re the same urge.

I want to be financially independent. I should get a line of credit. I should cut all unnecessary contact with my parents. Yes. It is not worthwhile, at this rate. Be this ungrateful? I don’t know. Money is not love. But money is, desperately important. I will milk them dry. Revenge is best never served. I know this.

My Angel Card today was Blessings in Disguise. Angel Cards are similar to Tarot Cards. Yes, I’m into that stuff, though always with a grain of salt, and only recently. Everything is a reflection of the self, and so, it’s just a way of getting a better understanding of how I operate.

I showed Vladimir the package of food he eats from, on which there are images of other betas. He flared his fish mane, and it was very cool. Stress, suffering, the rise to battle, makes us all beautiful. Hardship is so necessary.  

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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