It was brutal.

I'd expected this for awhile.

She said I seemed to thrive off anger. This is true in a way.

It's true because I hate Baltimore. I hate my job. I hate my inferiority-complexing socially-oversensitive domineering gay boss. I hate how I have to lie and cover shit up because he is a fundamentally incompetent scientist. Just the act of sitting at work is like eating at a rage buffet most days. I can count off the number of years I'm losing by the heart palpitations and lost sleep.

But then it's equally not true.

I don't thrive off anger. I don't gain sustenance from anger. I don't like anger. I'm angry because I have been walking down a dark tunnel for two years. I found a postdoc position that seemed perfectly suited to my interests. I could do some clinical work, get out some high impact papers, and I'd have my pick of professorships. We rented a house from friends that seemed perfect. We knew the landlords. They were smart people. Over the first year I was up to 3 margaritas a day. My wife was so stressed she ended up being 5 weeks early with our son. The house was in a shit ghetto infestation of poor people and high crime. The job was being some greek fuck's training wheels while he figured out how to get a lab going. Some people might call it a "growth experience".

It was rape. No. Fuck you. I was raped as a teenager. This span of my life has been rape.

Every day I go to work and have to pretend that I don't know more than the asshole who's not technically my boss. Every day lately I come home and it's asinine stories of women I don't care about and their children I equally don't care about. I well and truly do not give a fuck how cute Alex was. Fuck Alex. Fuck his simmering rage Minnesota nice dad. Fuck your best friend. Whenever she makes plans I want to scream because her Aspberger's shit drives me nuts. And then it's "have you heard from job X you applied for", "I really hope you hear from job X", "have you heard from job X", "have you heard from them", "when's the interview", "have you heard from them", "I hate Baltimore", "oh when and if job X comes through", and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

Everyone wants me to do exactly what they think is best.

I want to drink. I want to play The Walking Dead. I want to be alone. I want to blink my eyes away from sleep and find that this infestation behind my eyeballs has squirmed out and scurried behind a refrigerator.

I am angry because I did not sign up for a growth experience. I did not sign up for being some fuck's dick heater. I did not sign up to be in a sitcom where the wife is always right and I'm a bumbling asshole with a laugh track and Jesus Christ lives in every episode. I'm not thankful. I'm not happy. I'm not sad. I want all of this to end. I want life to stop being a raw wound rubbing against the leg of my pants as I stubbornly walk forward.

I am perpetually angry because this sucks.

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