On anger.

This is an ugly post, and I make no apologies for it. I am trying to keep a log of how I'm feeling day-to-day, and it does me no favors to lie.

I'm finding increasingly less joy in my life. That which used to buoy my spirits - my dogs, my family, video games, movies, etc. - are now little more than diversions from anger and frustration; hell, I'll call it what it is: rage.

Today I feel utterly worthless. I literally cannot stop shaking, and my insides feel clenched, like I'm bracing for a hit. I feel contemptuous and malicious, but have no target through which I can claim some sort of catharsis.

This isn't me talking; it's an illness. I *know* this, but on the worst days - like today - I would be lying to say that I find myself all that convincing. Were it not for the continued love and support of my family and friends, I would be a monster, of that I have no doubt.