(Which is how I say "crap" in my head, when it has been particularly kee-rappy.)
This has been a bad week. As in pretty awful. As in I want to hide away. Perhaps change the entire direction of my life. Perhaps become circus folk.
The things that have happened this week...I think I'm still trying to find my own reasoning. Trying not to feel like a failure, or rather that I've failed someone. Trying not to take on the actions of others as a reflection of me, trying not the let someone else's self-absorption morph into my own.
I've had enough drama. And perhaps this means I've made the wrong choice. If I really don't want to deal with the drama of others, if I don't want to have to help clean up the mess left behind by intrapsychic pain (oh, yes, bitches. You heard me.), perhaps this was really the most self-destructive choice I could have taken.
And, honestly, how kick-ass would it be to be able to call one's self circus folk? I already have an act in mind.
So that's my big conclusion for this week. I think I will run away.
Except Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay comes out April 25.