I'm angry god damn it.
I've a list of grievances, but topping that list is a metaphysical complaint about my list of grumblings, namely that I've no way of sharing this list (thus alleviating my dismay) without sounding petulant and small.
It's as if no one's allowed to complain anymore. The moment you suggest you've been somehow vexed by fortune people will leap at the chance to admonish you for being self-pitying, making things difficult, or worst of all, having the gall to suggest there's no one in the world who's got it as bad as you, even though that's not in the least bit what you've said, but for some reason because someone in the world is living below the poverty line (and by someone I mean a vast amount of people), I'm not allowed to be bothered, my complaints are unfounded because I've not lost the use of my legs in a terrible act of violence, and things surely can't be all that bad because I'm not currently on fire.
And they use that smug, self-righteous, and worst of all incredulous tone.
"Oh, you think you've got problems?"
Yes. Yes I do.
"Well I'm going to tell you why you don't, but I'm not actually going to address your problems, I'm just going to tell you how bad you should feel for thinking you've got anything to complain about because I know a guy who lost both his testicles whilst scuba-diving. I bet you didn't even consider that before you started crying about your problems. Look at you, sitting there with two perfectly normal testicles, just living it up with your fully functioning genitalia."
In summation, I'm angry.
Damn it.
