I am fucking flipping out. I want to cry on my friends, scream at them, tell them how mad I am. I want to flee, I want to get away from all of this uncertainty and insecurity. I feel so rageful from the gesture that was small and insignificant, but was the straw that broke the Bethany’s back, so to speak. As I rage, I know that I rage because all that I want is connection, playfulness, honesty. I feel so ready to give all of that but find that there seems to be a monumental price to pay when I receive it. I want to push myself into action, push others into action. I want to break things and scream “hey this is life, why don’t we all start having more fun and taking better care of the ourselves and the people we love!!” I wish that people were more dependable, maybe I just want more sensitivity. I want the tenderness that I so briefly found. I mean, it’s great that the experience of finding tenderness and then losing it is inspiring some great art but I want to feel tenderness goddammit. And also, if something smells, feels and tastes so right, if something inspired the right sounds and sighs, then why did it fail????