All The Small Things

So this weekend should be interesting...

I'm off to a wedding (this is the theme for financial year 06/07 I've decided, three weddings in four months - and not a thing to wear!) in Sydney this weekend.

Its my adorable little cousins wedding, or should I say its my fully grown up six foot something gorgeous funny and rather delightful cousins wedding. The girl he's getting hitched to is of Chilean heritage, and her family are coming over from Chile for the event.

I was trying to find a link to the engagement party, which I'm sure I blogged about, but I can't find it so I guess it doesn't matter. The point of the link was to demonstrate how full on the engagement party was, and how full on I expect the wedding will be.

She's having seven bridesmaids for goodness sake. Thats huge. I can't imagine that many girls getting ready for an important social event together. Crazy.

We're going down in my car, myself and Nicky, Mum, Dad and my little brother. The trip in itself should be interesting - especially now that they've announced their separation to the whole family. Despite not having actually done anything whatsoever about it as yet. They're still in the same room, eating together. If they hadn't said, I wouldn't have noticed any difference.

We're also sharing a suite in the hotel. Yay.

Have no idea what I'm going to wear. Cross that bridge when I get to it I guess. I might see if my cousin (who is currently preggers) could loan me one of her outfits. We're the same size when she's not up the duff. Or maybe I'll just wear something old and boring out of my closet. Who knows.

 

Interesting thing happened this evening...

The Director - remember him? His show came back to town at our request last weekend, and we had a bit of a chat before and after. He's a funny man, and I enjoyed talking to him. I was going to join the crew at the pub for a drink after the show, but I got caught up doing things cleaning up.

I emailed him this morning - in response to a funny little email he'd sent me, to organise the drop off of the cheque for the show.

And he's asked me to go to the movies with him. Or perhaps he could come out home next week, or we could catch up in town.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

I'd love to be friends with him, he's very interesting and I enjoy his company. But I'm pretty sure he'd like more than that.

I should have cleared it up when he was asking me to go to U2. I just made excuses as to why I couldn't go - but I didn't tell him about GM. I'm an idiot. I know.

 

GM:

Things are weird with GM at the moment. Since the McWedding of the McYear I think, its been different, but we had a bit of a run in over a different event as well, after which he (in a very drunken state) told me that sometimes he's just not sure if I'm what he wants.

Hello! Heartbreak! Long time no see!!

We had a very sensible conversation about this, during which I asked that he spend some time thinking about it, because if he wasn't sure that I was what he wanted, I'd rather know that now, so that we could end it now, than allow it to go on with me loving him wholeheartedly and inevitably feeling crushed when it ended.

So the next morning, we woke up, and he didn't remember the conversation. So I had to fill him in on what had happened. I asked him if thats how he really felt. He said 99% of the time he was desperately in love with me and wanted nothing else. But sometimes he thought about what it was like before we got together, and how he could just do whatever he wanted.

I asked him again to go away and think about it - he was going away for the weekend to Melbourne anyway, so I said, spend the weekend thinking about it. Because I need to know that we're either OK, or we're not.

He was supposed to leave at lunchtime on Saturday (our conversation took place on Friday evening / Saturday wee small hours of the morning). Saturday evening he pulled up outside my house, and came in to my house. I met him in the hall just inside the door.

He pulled me into his chest, and held me tight.

"Are you OK darlin'?" I asked

"Yeah. I just love you, and I wanted to say sorry for last night. And I want you."

"What does that mean?"

"I've thought about it, and its you that I want."

"100%?"

"100%. I love you Sass."

So that made me feel somewhat better, but we had another conversation last night that just makes me think that he doesn't feel that way, really.

We were lying in bed at my house, and we were talking about something silly. I don't even remember what. We had just finished eating icy-poles, it was hot. It was just idle conversation.

He say's you know, sometimes you do things that confuse me.

I say, like what?

He say's well, you ask odd questions.

I do. I'm not going to deny it. We talked about that for a while.

He say's, and sometimes you don't seem to be having fun when you're with me. Like at the Club GM's. You don't seem to have a good time there, and that makes me feel bad.

Well, to be honest, I don't have a good time there. I don't fit in there. I don't have anything in common with 16, 17, 18 year olds. I don't have anything in common with them. I just want to tell the girls to have more respect for themselves, or to put a jumper on or something.

Its hard for me, he say's. My mates have all packed up and left town, so those are the kids I hang out with now. And I have a great time with them. I'm just a big kid myself though.

Yeah, I know you are! We're just different, you know. I come from such a different world to you. My mates don't drink until they fall down, they never did. When I was 17 I was debating, or studying, or out riding a bike or something. I wasn't getting pissed and falling down. It wasn't me then, and it isn't me now.

We are really different. It makes me think sometimes that maybe we aren't that well suited, he says.

Do you think that its insurmountable?

No.

Me neither. I used to wonder if there was something wrong with me. But I had a great time at the 18th - and I had a great time at that Club GM when your mates came along - I have a fantastic time when there's someone I can talk to. I just struggle to talk to 16 year olds. And I don't understand the way that you drink. It bothers me, that you drink so much.

I don't drink every day though. I used to, but I don't anymore.

I know darlin'. You don't drink all the time, but when you do drink, you drink until you pass out - and I don't understand that.

Its just the way me and my mates have always done it though. Thats what we do.

I know.

Ah well darlin. I love you. Goodnight.

 

For a start, thats a very unsatisfactory end to the conversation. Secondly, he wont remember any of it today. Thirdly, I'm pretty sure I'm not imagining it that he has raised some pretty serious issues here, and more than that, I'm having issues with his drinking.

We are really different. I love him, and he loves me, but is that enough?

Or is it just that he's stressed to the absolute limit about his farm and the impending operation, and I'm stressed to the limit about Nicky and the courtcase and Mum and Dad and work and freaking everything, and we're both just a bit fragile at the moment.

All I know is that when we are together alone, its magic and amazing. When we are with his family, its magic and amazing. When we are with Nicky, its magic and amazing.

When we are with his brothers mates at a Club GM, its not. When he's out with his mates and comes home falling down, its not.

I don't know.

 

The Tease and I had a long involved conversation at the 18th, about different things. Turns out he doesn't feel comfortable when everyones out getting drunk either, because he never did that when he was that age either.

Amusing conversational introduction - he says "So things are good with you and GM then?"

"Yeah, they are. Surprisingly wonderful actually."

"Thats good - Bit annoyed though. If you hadn't started going out with him, I was going to have a crack at you myself."

"Oh were you just. Thankyou, I guess."

"Seriously. I think you're a top chick. GM's lucky to have you I reckon." 

We went on to discuss how miserable he is at the moment, and the state of his relationship with his girlfriend, which appears to be on the rocks. His life, his work, his family, his childhood. It was one of those funny conversations where you both share things that you normally wouldn't share, and its real and sincere and you connect. And he didn't hit on me once, which was very nice, because it would have ruined it.

 

I'd better go to bed. This is getting rambly and incoherent - such a change from my usual!

I wonder how lovely Mr and Mrs. Macca are getting on. More than a fortnight married - Its funny how the time crawls leading up to a day like that, then rushes past afterwards.

I walked into my parents tonight, feeling like crap and looking much the same.

Its been a big week. It would be fair to say that things haven't been going so great lately. Another couple of big nasty fights with Mr. D., the breakdown last week that had me off to the counsellor - the breakdown in the car with GM on the way home from the McWedding. All in all, I'm a bloody mess right now.

I'm sitting on the couch with my Dad, and he say's "How you going chook?"

"Oh, I've been better Dad."

"You don't look so good. Whats up?"

"Its just a culmination of things I guess - I think this has probably been the worst time I've ever had in my life so far. I don't remember ever being this low."

"Oh."

...

...

...

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But I have something that I have to tell you, and I know that this is going to upset you, but everyone else already knows and I don't want you to hear from someone else and then get more upset."

"Honestly, I don't think that I could get any lower Dad, so whats up?"

"Your mum and I are seperating."

 

Yeah. So. It would appear that I was wrong! I can get lower!! I just wasn't TRYING!!!

Are you pro or con?

So heres the thing.

I have the most incredibly wonderful boyfriend who loves me to pieces and whom I love with equal intensity. (Yes, I know that I'm rehashing. I'm going somewhere with this, go with me.)

We have had numerous and in depth discussions as to where this is going. I feel one hundred percent safe and secure in the idea that this is a long term, committed and serious relationship, and that we're on the same page as far as wanting to have each other around for an extremely long time if not forever. (Ditto, ditto, ditto, go with me.)

 

So I think we all also know that I've got some issues when it comes to my self esteem. (C'mon Sass, this is getting boring.)

 

I don't even know where to start with this. Some background perhaps.

GM's house is a boys house. But a nice boy's house. There are Ralph's, and FHM's and Zoo's floating about, but there aren't any nasty posters up anywhere, and the boys are respectful and nice to me. I'm not a huge fan of the magazine scene, never have been. The naked ladies only serve to make me feel fat and ugly and flatchested and lard bottomed and all round horrid about myself. The magazines being there doesn't bother me so much, its not like GM sits there and reads them in front of me.

But in the car on the way home from the McWedding of the McYear, he purchased himself a magazine and was reading it in the car as he sat beside me.

And I found myself getting more and more angry, my fingers clenching ever tighter around the steering wheel, every muscle in my body seizing up. The chest pains started up, and my head started getting really hot and ache-y.

After 20 minutes of this, I couldn't take it anymore and I asked him to put it away please, because it pissed me off that he was reading it in front of me. I told him that I thought that it was disrespectful, and it made me feel like shit. He apologised and put it away.

I coudn't shake it though. I got worse and worse. I started shaking, and I wanted to throw up.

I felt as if I'd been stabbed through the heart.

There was silence in the car.

I kept driving, I had my glasses on, I turned the stereo up, I kept driving, I tried to breathe slowly, calm down, relax.

"Are you OK darlin'?"

I couldn't even talk, I was just trying not to lose my breakfast. I nodded.

He reached over and took my hand.

And suddenly I wasn't angry anymore, I just felt incredibly sad and worthless.

Silent, hot, painful tears of absolute and suffocating misery.

 

I just felt worthless.

 

And I wanted to explain to GM, but I couldn't. I couldn't talk, I couldn't articulate what I was feeling, or give him any indication of why I was feeling it.

Patently, men everywhere read those magazines. They aren't bad - I've read them myself. Some of the articles are very good. I'm sure that my male friends read them, and I know that there is something deeply wrong with me that I have this sort of reaction to something so minor. Seriously, what are the naked ladies going to do? Jump off the page and start bonking him in the car??

I had to drop GM off shortly after this happened, 48kms at 110kms an hour, however long that takes.

He kissed me when I dropped him off and kept asking me if I was OK to drive. He kept apologising for upsetting me. He didn't mean to - I know that, and I have this horrible feeling that next time I go out to his place all the magazines will be gone and his brother will have been given a talking to about keeping them away from the communal areas. Which is silly, because its not about the magazines, its about how I feel about myself.

I said to him that it wasn't his fault, that I'm just a bit of a nutter really, and that although I know it shouldn't I can't help it, it upsets me. I'm just a stupid insecure girl. That it makes me feel like shit, and that I'm so very tired of feeling like shit.

He asked if I'd meet him for lunch along the way, and set the place. I agreed, and off we went, I had a big headstart, and I was driving upset, which always makes me hit the pedal a bit harder than I normally would.

As I drove, there were random bubbles of thought running about in my head, and they weren't in any particular order. Some of them didn't make any sense at all, others were quite lucid.

I'm so tired of feeling worthless.

I have to get past this, because GM loves me, and he would never intentionally hurt me.

I am ugly and empty, and shit.

Something must have happened to me to make me feel this worthless and ugly, and so very lacking in any sort of redeemable feature, but I have no idea what that might be.

Worthless.

I must get rid of this ring, because its just a visual reminder that someone thought I wasn't worth anything.

I feel so barren, and devoid of warmth.

I wonder, if I hit that ditch at 30 degrees, then counterturned the wheel, if I'd be able to flip the car, and slam it down hard enough to kill myself? But I can't do that, I have Nicky to think of.

I'm screwed in the head for thinking that way. I think that I may need to get some help with that.

Unlovable, ugly, horrible, empty, cold.

 

 

And then I started sobbing. And the tears ran hard and fast and hot down my face until I couldn't see the road and I had to pull over. I don't know how long I sat there, sobbing.

And all I could think was that I am completely and utterly worthless, incredibly ugly, and empty inside.

 

Eventually the sobbing stopped, and I could get my breath. That sounds odd doesn't it. The sobbing stopped. But it was like that, sort of disconnected and curious. Like a tap had been turned off, maybe. Or more like the power went out. Suddenly it stopped, but it wasn't me that stopped it.

I don't really think I had full control of myself from the moment that we got back in the car and he started reading. It was like something in my head snapped and the part of me that was driving was running on autopilot, but the rest of me had curled into the foetal position somewhere deep inside, and was periodically getting up and screaming.

I got back on the road and suddenly this incredibly clear dialogue started running through my mind. It was my voice, but coming from a very clear, very cold and detached distance.

Pull yourself together Sass. It is a given that when you love someone, you are opening your heart up to that person. You love GM, and he loves you. You have made a decision, both in your conscious and unconscious self, to open yourself completely to this man.

But what you must realise Sass is that every action truly does have an equal and opposite reaction. If you love someone, and you allow yourself to be open to the complete and utter joy that they can bring to your life, what you must understand is that you then leave yourself open to being hurt in equal measure.

You love GM, therefore you allowed him access to the part of you that is most easily bruised.

And then the phone rang.

It was GM - he had arrived at the restaurant, and was worried about where I was.

I had to pull over, I said.

I must have passed you then - I didn't see you though. Did you have a phonecall?

No. I'll be there soon hon.

Ok, drive safe please.

So we had lunch, or more precisely he had lunch because I was still struggling to keep down my breakfast. He was very gentle with me, I think he was worried that I'd start crying again. I looked like shit.

He held me in the carpark and that made the world right itself to some extent. I'm still feeling rather tender - but more concerned about the complete and utter overreaction than anything.

I guess I just want to be enough.

I want to be ENOUGH.

And I want to KNOW that I'm enough.

How is it possible for me to know that this man loves me, wants to spend his life with me and potentially make small children with me at some future date, but not know that his choice of reading material has no bearing on that?

I don't want to feel worthless. I don't want to feel ugly. I don't want to feel empty. I don't want to feel that I'm being compared to how other people look, and stacking up unfavourably.

I'm tired of feeling like I'm damaged and broken inside.

I'm tired of BEING damaged and broken inside.

I don't want to feel that every time he looks at me he sees my faults.

I don't want to see my faults every time I look at me.

 

I'm quite sure that this entry makes no sense whatsoever, and I'm damn sure that I'm no closer to a solution to this through writing it down. I guess I just needed to get it out of my head.

So this weekend I packed up my jarmies and headed to the much anticipated:

McWedding of the McYear.

And it was McLovely. (See what I did there... with the Mc???... Nevermind.)

The bride was all pretty and thin and tall and beautiful (as usual, only moreso) and her makeup was flawless and obviously waterproof because she was sobbing her heart out and blowing her nose and stuff in the church, and she STILL looked a million dollars when she stepped outside afterwards. And the dress, stunning. And her hair - I wanted to touch it because it was so pretty and shiny and soft and perfect looking. I kept expecting a Pantene / L'Oreal / Mac Cosmetics film crew to pop out of the bushes. Mrs. Macca you could have stepped out of a magazine. (Something like Cleo Bride, not Tatts and Peircings Monthly obviously...)

The beautiful bridesmaids all looked lovely, and the dresses were stunning. Just a little something Mrs. Macca ran up on the machine in her spare time I'm told. As you do.

The Groom, CK, looked his ever gorgeous self, and the sight of the two of them together made you want to close your eyes lest your retina's be ever scarred by the wonder of it all. The wonder and the beam-i-ness of their smiles. And the constant flash of camera flashes. They'll be seeing stars for weeks I'd imagine.

Much disgusted by the groomsmen though - particularly the Best Man.

Never been more appalled in my life actually, than I was about the Best Man.

Almost came and told you so at the wedding, restrained myself though.

Now, lets get serious here for a minute.

I've been on-again off-again single for a while now, and YOU'VE BEEN HIDING HIM FROM ME AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU ETC. How can it happen that you never introduced us before??? And now I have a boyfriend. And unlike the previous ones, I love this boyfriend. So whatever. What. Ever. ... Keep your hot friends to yourself and see if I care.

*sulks*

I will very grudgingly admit that all the lads looked super spectacular, and were lovely people all round. As you would expect from CK, who, like our lovely Mrs. Macca, attracts lovely people like moths to a flame. *Flutter Flutter, slams self into window*

The venue was delightful, the band dance-y, the photographer snap-happy, and the barstaff accomodating, and the waiters were nothing short of HOT. (There were brothers!!)

If I had any complaints, they would be that my delightful boy gave me a blood blister on my toe with his chair (ouch) and that I didn't get to handjive with my girl. And now she's not mine anymore. But I do know that she's in very good hands (and musically talented hands too) and I'm sure that we can work out some sort of lend-lease-rental arrangement for handjiving.

I would like to try before I buy however, as God only knows what CK is going to do to her on the honeymoon, and she might come back unable to perform at her handjiving best. I'll have to take you for a test jive Mrs. Macca!!! (Test jive, geddit??)

I seriously considered crash tackling Mrs. Macca's baby sister in order to get my hands on the bouquet, however, due to the tenuous hold my dress had on my upper torso, I decided against it. In hindsight, I believe this to be the right decision.

I will at this point put in another apology for the Reading at the Church - Mrs. Macca I think you and I are going to be arguing about this one in the retirement home when we're both in old people nappies and have no teeth and we have to yell at each other and compete with our squealing hearing aids! 

Mrs. Macca swears that she asked me to do a reading at the church, and I swear with equal vigour that she never asked me.

And because its my blog I'm going to add to that by saying that I know that I'm shithouse, and that I forget dates, and all sorts of things, I forgot to pack shoes to match the dresses that I packed, for example, HOWEVER. I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if you'd asked me to do a reading at your wedding, because I would have been (and AM) absolutely stoked and honoured that you thought of me and included me on your big day. And I'm desperately sorry that I didn't hear the call to get up there and do the reading, and that I didn't mug an elderly relative (from CK's side obviously) for a booklet when I arrived so that I could have read my name in there and known that I should have been up there reading. Particularly because we picked the readings (pending CK's approval) and they meant so much to you. I'm so sorry Mrs. Macca.

I guess all weddings have something go wrong don't they, and unless I missed something exciting like a rello getting smashy and hitting on the staff, or someone faceplanting in the cake, or breaking a leg falling down the stairs, then I am the something that went wrong. Story of my life.

Perhaps THAT is why you were hiding the Best Man from me? Because I'm shit and wrong?? LOL

 

So to recap, here are some....    

::: THINGS I LEARNED AT THE MCWEDDING OF THE MCYEAR:::

1) Cuddle up to the bride from UNDER THE VEIL so as not to pull the brides head off.

2) There is always going to be one cute guy that is super good friends with the couple whom they never thought to set you up with, and seeing that person in a very cute suit will make you want to take the happy couple out. (And not to dinner)

3) Bring a jacket. Particularly if you are wearing sweet FA in the undergarment department.

4) I'm shit.

5) Mrs. Macca makes hot dresses, and I will definitely be hitting her up for that when the time comes.

6) She also makes a rather delicious mudcake.

7) And organises extremely elegant and beautiful weddings.

8) Mrs. Macca and CK deserve each other (in a good way, like cold milk deserves Cadbury)

 

That is all. Unless I think of something else in which case I'll add it later.

So the Director from the other night just sent me an email asking me if I'd like to go to U2 with him.

It was very nicely done really, and padded with other things that were amusing / work related.

But still.

Shit.

So perhaps my assumption that he'd HEARD the numerous conversations about GM at the pub was incorrect.

Perhaps my assumption that he'd decided he was going to have a crack despite GM's existance was premature.

Because I have had a number of emails from him in the past few days (work related) and he does seem like quite a nice person really - and somewhat shy. So I don't think that he's trying to tear me from the lovin' arms of my lovin' man. But now I'm in a bit of a sticky situation.

I should definitely get some t-shirts made that say "I have a boyfriend".

I think I handled it reasonably well, and turned him down. But do you know how hard it is to drop the words "My Boyfriend" into an email???? Much easier in person, or even on the phone.

How do I keep getting myself into these situations??

 

Its so hard to be me sometimes. Marriage proposals, U2 tickets, cars, travel to new and beautiful places... Men just want to give me things and take me on trips. Oh, its sooo hard to be me.

Sigh.

For the second time this week, and its only Wednesday, and I took yesterday off.

This does not bode well for my state of mental health.

So some little things:

1) Saw Mrs Macca on the news last night - she looked HOT. CK you are a lucky man. I wonder what she looked like at the other end of the day though... perhaps you are not so lucky??? LOL

2) My boy comes home tonight!!! NO MORE SLEEPS!!!

3) I used a Subliminal Message CD last night to reduce stress, and although I'd bag you out if you told me you were using one, it actaully worked. I feel great today! I slept like a log, and I feel wonderfully de-stressed.

4) I visited my Grandparents yesterday with Nicky. We stayed for 4 1/2 hours. At the end of this visit, my uncle was bitching "can't you stay for another 20 minutes so I can have a play with her?" "I hardly got to see her!" Here's a thought. If I turn up for a visit, and you go to the pub for 2 hours of that visit, then you feel like you've missed out, thats really NOT MY PROBLEM.

5) A lady just rang in, told me I sounded stressed out, and said the most delightful thing I think I've heard lately. "Chin up young person."

 

I can't wait to be wrapped up in the arms of my gorgeous man.

Until Mrs. Macca and CK tie the knot!!

I.

Can't.

Wait!!!!!

So I went rock and roll dancing last weekend, as you already know. At that dance, I danced with a gentleman who asked me to, and it was awesome cool fun.

This gentleman was involved with a play that came to town this weekend, and I offered to help with the advertising of same and gave him my email etc.

So we've been conversing throughout the week, and I couldn't for the life of me shake the feeling that I knew him from somewhere.

And then it struck me, I DID know him. He was the random stranger from a little cafe who'd bought me a bunch of flowers because he thought I looked sad about a year ago. How sweet is that?

So it turns out that his girlfriend is the mother of a boy that I went to school with, and both the gentleman and his girlfriend were out last night for the play. I went along with GM's mum, and it was the funniest thing I think I've ever seen. After the show, I headed over to the pub with the cast and crew, where we joined the bikie gang that were in town, and a gang of fishermen.

Typical night out in Sassville, there was dancing, drinking, pool and laughter. Oh, and the obligatory marriage proposal of course. Why is it that when men are liquored up they think I'm marriage material, but when they sober up they change their little itty bitty minds?

I got home about 2.30am, and managed to get up this morning without a hangover. Yay!

I'm missing GM terribly - I just got off the phone with him and it sounds like he's going to be away until Christmas time. I don't know how I'm going to deal with it really. It's this terrible yearning inside, which is horrible.

Last night, interrogation reigned supreme at the pub, lots of folks wanting to know "Well, where's your boyfriend then?"

I know that this is a topic that we've covered before, but I'm still bothered by men assuming that because your significant other isn't present you are fair game.

Point in case: I was playing pool with the director of the play, and a couple from the cast. We had conversations about my boy, about the town, about different silly inconsequential things. The couple left, and as they did, the girl say's to the director "Good luck, let me know how you go in the morning" with a wink. Patently obvious what they thought was going to happen.

I don't understand this. I played pool with four different boys last night. I danced with all the girls, and any of the lads that hit the floor. I paid no one boy any more attention than any other, and there was no reason for this particular man or his friends to think that he was going to be successful in engaging my attentions. I had several conversations about my boyfriend, and when asked what I do here, made sure that I mentioned that I spend time WITH MY BOYFRIEND on the farm, doing this that and the other. Yet still they assume that I'll do the wrong thing. As if I would do that anyway.

It's been a long time since I misbehaved, and even if I was single, I certainly wouldn't be doing anything to mess up a professional relationship with the Director of a Company that will be doing shows in my little Sassville for the forseeable future.

A) I'm not single.

B) I'm not a tart.

C) The words "Good luck, let me know how you go in the morning" are enough to put my back up and make me run in the opposite direction at speed.

So I played pool with the Director and two fishermen until the publican put us out, and then I said goodbye to the director and walked home on my own.

I bumped into the Tease's girlfriend on the way, and she said that she and the Tease had broken up that night. She'd had a fair few to drink, so I don't know if they'd just had a drunken fight, or if they'd broken up for real. I'll have to keep you posted on that one.

I'm feeling rather melancholy tonight, and I'm not really sure why. I guess it's a combination of the custody thing, GM being away, a very very small headache from beverages imbibed, and a feeling that this world isn't as full of people who are innocent and kind as I would like it to be.

Tomorrow will be a better day.