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I just snapped at someone who was very busy, simply because I was bitter and angry and mean, and wanted to see someone else-- for once-- trying to work while they're worried sick about something they did wrong.
I'm mostly ashamed of myself for that, because some very small part of me is rubbing its hands together in glee that it's my turn to be pissed off and someone else's turn to try to make up for it.
It's easy to love yourself, but not always to like what you did.
I'm mostly ashamed of myself for that, because some very small part of me is rubbing its hands together in glee that it's my turn to be pissed off and someone else's turn to try to make up for it.
It's easy to love yourself, but not always to like what you did.
