Everyone has frustrations.  Some choose to express them.  Some don’t.  Those who don’t tend to judge those who do.  Some of those who do don’t realize that they do and they tend to judge others who do.  I tend to bottle them up until they come out, typically on Facebook.

All the times
That I’ve cried
All this wasted
It’s all inside
And I feel
All this pain
Stuffed it down 
It’s back again
And I lie
Here in bed
All alone
I can’t mend
But I feel
Tomorrow I’ll be okay

I tend to go through periods of insecurity.  They come and go.

Thank Man for Wellbutrin.