I don't feel like writing things tonight, but I do feel like sharing. Sometimes I think my fear of what people will think of my writing inhibits me from saying anything at all on here. So I'm going to do something I try not to--expose angst. This is something I typed in the past at an unknown date. I vaguely remember the details and that it was about a year ago, but I mostly just think it articulates a very real feeling I had and can still relate to. 

"Someday I will see Italy and I will cry. Cry, yell, scream, punch the air, and stomp my feet. And then I will very simply cry again. Cry for all the people that hurt me. Cry because I wasn’t here first. Cry because I hate everyone that tried to take my happiness and make it theirs. I know this is full of pride and that I should be humble, but I am hurt. My feelings have been hurt. I need some form of catharsis to purge myself of this black ickiness. Italy will do fine."