Psychic guerilla warfare

I woke up this morning in an absolutely foul mood, worn-out and upset at the world. About half-way through my drive to work, I realized I had reached that all-too-common state where my irritability had become self-sustaining, and continually fed on its own black blood to maintain its power over me.

Mainly, that realization’s a good thing, because the moment I’m consciously aware of that situation is always the moment that 95% of the mood’s power evaporates. The down side is that I’ll be spending much of the morning, if not the day, having to stay alert against attempts by that remaining 5% to come back and take over again. It’s tiring, and still leaves a bitter aftertaste to the hours.

As usual, writing about it seems to help a bit.


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