Rage

I am angry. All the time. I think I have forgotten what it is like not to be angry. I am almost 40, and that’s a long time to be continually ground down by society’s racism and sexism and homophobia and cruelty and greed and this run-on sentence could keep going for another thousand words if I let it.

My husband recently joked (with love) that I was like Homer Simpson in the episode “I Am Furious (Yellow)”, wanting to smash and get revenge on men. He’s not wrong.

But in positive news, I recently celebrated my 15th anniversary with my assbutt (with love) husband, so that’s something.

B.

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