I am trying really hard to complain less. I am. I’m not as angry as I may sometimes seem. Since I moved to New York “things” have enlarged themselves. Emotions, allergies, problems, suddenly I’m getting to know just how much I can handle and how ugly I can be. Things, which at one point, you may have brushed off your shoulders start to act as human paper weights and slowly bore painful little holes into your patience, wearing you down until pop, puncture, poke, and prod, your once screaming head has turned itself inside out emptying words onto the guy in the subway. I am trying to have a better outlook. I am. Please don’t think of me as merely angry. I can’t just be like that. It’s not that simple.