Perhaps it's the 90-degree weather, or the generic soft rock they play in the bathrooms, or the way the mirrors here make my outfit look less like free-spirited whimsy and more like an ill-fitting jazz recital costume. Maybe it's this morning's realization that I failed to fulfill my responsibilities to one of my extracurricular commitments, or the anxiety of applying for an apartment and feeling completely unprepared to actually move. It could have been the vigilante truck driver this morning who took it upon himself to block the would-be shoulder-drivers trying to get past the I-90 traffic to merge onto I-294 (I was obeying the law, but I resent the self-righteous impulse of the vigilante; such behavior, like gaping at traffic accidents, disgusts me, because it is the result of common human impulses, which I depise, probably because I lack self-acceptance).
There are many possible explanations for today's emotional discomfort, but none of them provide me any relief. Oh well, thanks for listening.
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