I am angry.
It’s hard for me to admit that. I’ve written in the recent past — here and here — about the reasons for this, so I’m not going to waste time explaining the reasons again.
I spent most of my 45-minute drive home from the office on the phone. As I locked the office door, I made a phone call that I thought would take 60 seconds, but it dragged on and on. As I finally pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant for dinner, I realized that my muscles were tight and my jaw was clenched.
I felt incredibly angry. It wasn’t anger about anything that had just happened. It was more long-repressed anger seeping out. As I turned the car off and sat in the fading twilight for a few moments, I felt a rush of irrational anger and misery.
I wanted to explode. I wanted to cry. I wanted to angrily scream out to ask somebody why life doesn’t work the way I was taught it was supposed to.

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Being hermit looks good as world tries to make me a misanthrope
Schools’ one-size-fits-all rules are just excuse not to use judgement
Peshawar murders show need to support those who share our values
Taking risks, working for big goals can create success, joy, exhilaration
My need to rescue my child self fuels my urge to rescue animals
Was life planned before birth? What did you come here to learn?