You cry. You cry a lot. You cry so much, you could probably use your tears to brew some tea with if you heated it up, but that tea would be super salty, so you wouldn't.
You look like an idiot in the library. A few moments before you get really angry, you get really happy because of completing number 25 and 26 consecutively from the 161 Things to Do. And it's the first time you've gotten above a 90 on a test since high school.
You have trouble breathing. Your chest seems to constrict and you're making noises that you've never heard before because you're hurting that much, but you're not sad, you're angry. And you're almost never angry.
You cry on your way home after laughing for hours and getting scared and excited by the latest
The Vampire Diaries episode that marks the middle of the season.
On your way home, you call your best friend. Because he's the only boy who's ever really cared about you. And he's not even a boy anymore; he's a man. He has a job. He doesn't wake up in the afternoon on weekends and goes parties. He does real people things. And then all the reasons why you're best friends, even though you call each other "Butt Face," become clear.
You stand in the middle of your room and scream, having no way of relieving those awful feelings. I mean, you're just so frustrated. The kind of pain you feel is super internalized and you'd love to do something really dramatic like tear your room apart to go along with the yelling. But you're worried it'll upset the spirits that most likely haunt it.
You go to a gathering with your friends. No one you know is there but it's nice because you're with your friends and being with friends is always nice. They want to hug you, seeing that you're so angry and seeing how quickly things unraveled. But you're too angry for hugs. Actually, physically attention will probably make you even more upset. And you don't know why, but your skin is just crawling that much.
You sit in front of your computer pounding out a blog entry about being angry. While listening to Kimya Dawson and belting out every single word to every song of hers you like. Which seems to include all of them because when she sings her lyrics, you feel like you have a new friend. Someone who will spend time with you and strangely seems to know how to articulate how you feel when you're feeling it.
You be productive. You're not going to let your anger over your personal life being half in shambles ruin all the other aspects that you are rocking at right now. You're going to copy edit that article for that newspaper you tried working for to the best of your copy editing ability and silently wish it could be your job forever. You're going to, for the first time since high school, ace your math test because you studied so hard and so well for it. You'll show those current engineers that you're not leaving engineering because you're too dumb for it; you're leaving because there are other things you would rather be doing, trying not to sound pretentious.
The day you confront the reason why you're angry, you're going to dress up like a princess. But not an old-fashioned princess. A modern one who wears a ton of jewelry and make up that makes her look radiant and powerful. You're not going to break.
