Member-only story
From Rage to Riches
Using negative emotions to propel you forward
I’ve got legitimate complaints, things I wake up bothered by and others I could go to sleep angry about. But you know what — who the fuck cares, honestly?
I’m not talking about the barista screwing my order up either, mainly because I’m too poor to afford a coffee at places where baristas make and serve it. I’m a maxwell house kind of mad instead. But I bet a barista would take one look at me and sabotage my order on purpose, as a way of saying “you don’t belong here”. Or because they felt I endangered their safe space, or whatever.
If I could afford to pay $5 for the outrageous amounts of cups of coffee I drink on the reg, I’d just start doing cocaine again instead.
Do you see how worked up I’m getting about coffee? Imagine how mad I get about things that actually matter and have happened to me.
I was an angry fucking teenager. I probably didn’t need to curse just now, but I need you to understand how mad I was — at you, you and you.
I’m not tall, in a word, I’m short. So there’s that whole Napoleon complex thing I suppose. But here’s the thing — I was never ever bothered by my size growing up, I was legit comfortable with me.
