|P.S. Not by Fitzgerald...but then again, Abraham Lincoln did once say, you can't trust everything you read on the internet. Still a good quote. Source|
So she rechecked me out and I walked out $25 (after taxes) poorer and 100x angrier at myself.
I knew it was the right thing to do, but I was so angry at myself for speaking up.
I'm the kind of person that always does the right thing, to the point where it's sickening. There's a sign that says "No Trespassing"? I'm the girl that's politely reminding everyone that we can't go that way because the sign says so. And then continues to remind you the rest of the night.
Yes, I'm THAT "guy".
Yes, I know it's annoying at times. Sorry.
I got back into my car and started yelling. Yelling at myself, at my steering wheel, yelling at God. I called my mom, yelled at her (in a venting kind of way, not yelling AT her).
Why did I get so mad?
Dave and I both agree there is something deeper to this anger I felt, but we can't agree on what it is. He thinks I'm sick of being the "nice guy" and this was just my way of taking it out on myself. That may be true, one of the things I was hollering at my poor mother was that nice guys finish last. I think it may be stress and the result of some not so great weeks at work.
But what if it's something deeper?
I don't want to be that person, filled with so much anger and hate. I held on to that anger for most of the afternoon. It wasn't until I was driving to school that I had to have the "come to Jesus" talk with myself and tell myself to knock it off.
I'm really hoping it was just me being overly emotional about having a bad day and nothing more because, pain in the ass or not, I just want to be a good person.