*muffled cursing from the next room*

I hate feelings.

And I can only hate them because I have them. Irony.

My headspace is still picking up rotational momentum. As the weather in my head gets stormier, I lash out randomly at parts of my existence. It's a hobby. On the block today is the ability to emote, since last year I decided to feel more of my feelings. I think that decision was fundamentally masochistic, and I can own up to that. What I'm really not seeing are the benefits of it. Where is this more profound understanding of myself that was supposed to emerge? What happened to the idea of being more connected to other people? Has any of that happened? How do I quantify this reliably?

I'm constantly irritable when I've got too many feelings going on, even if most of them are positive. So when most of them are stressful or painful or angry, like now, I'm just snapping at wizardpen constantly. And with all the warnings and my having taken this day off for the last five years just so I don't do this to other people, you'd think he'd learn by now that it's not personal, and to just come in and give me hugs sometimes and then go away, but he keeps trying to fix this, like I'm a problem that's solvable, or like I don't have a right to be as emotional one day a year as he is all the time. And that's not driving me crazy at all.

I've had a whole pot of decaf, half a pint of ice cream, made noodles and eaten too much, listened to the Jurassic Park theme. I'm wallowing in my physical comforts, and I still can't get my shoulders to unlock. I haven't felt this stressed-out-of-sorts since leaving college. And I kind of want to cry but I hate crying.

Why did I do this to myself again?