Just another Friday

I think I regressed to being fourteen today by throwing a near-tantrum in the middle of a bookstore and on the street. I am not happy about losing my temper and creating a scene. I had promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn't.

I am being plagued by little bits and nibbles of I-am-not-quite-sure-what tonight. I wish I had done something. Anything. Twenty one years, and not much accomplished to show for them. When will I ever do anything?
I feel a bit useless.

How terribly existential.

I'm mocking myself. How awful.

I'm sad.