July 4, 2018:
Worst of my buttons.
Stood up. Made to feel unimportant.
Not new. Years and decades: pretty much guaranteed to turn me bug-eyed loony.
I know this. I'm in the car, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to decide in this context of knowing I'm now totally irrational, whether to wait longer, or call, or text, or go home, or what.
Doesn't matter. Every option feels equally bad.
Can't imagine making a right decision. Not just this moment.