Weekday morning adventures with Lauren
The guys at The Wydown in D.C. are the bomb. Thanks for making my [second] job soooo easy today!
Oh, the kind of frustration that builds up inside your heart, bringing an insatiable storm of gut-wrenching thoughts that completely annihilate you from inside out. Nothing feels real yet everything is so real, so painfully real — it can’t get more raw than this. Yet you mostly stare into space while suppressing every drop of feeling because now the world weighs on your shoulders. Or at least it feels like it. There was an anonymous agreement in the adult world that becoming an adult automatically withdraws your membership from the kid zone. So you mustn’t cry on the bus. If you do, you’d better have a good reason. Do you want to be that insane girl on the bus people go home and tweet about?
But then, who cares?
I’ve learned a long time ago that an outburst of unkempt frustration is almost always quite the opposite of lovely. It might turn into an unintentional sword to the ones you care about the most. It might drive people away, but probably only temporarily because sensible humans understand that frustration is not who you are but a simple state of being — sometimes without a good reason.
I guess after all is said and done, it is what it is.