So I lost my pedometer today. You would usually think, "No big deal" or "That's nothing" but me, as someone who looses things frequently, I don't cope well. So I looked for it for the first 10 minutes fairly calmly, sure it would fall out eventually but... bIG SuPRisE, it did not appear. At that point I had had to redo the work I had previously done by taking off my shoes (Once again I like to be dramatic about first world problems) and my music was pausing every once and a while because wifi sucked, which made me even angrier. I became this ball of anger composed of tangled earbuds, cursing unholy things under the breath, hair covered in dust bunnies and tangled-after being PERFECT before the fiasco-, and furious looking for a five dollar gadget that was now my lifeline. And so it seems like I was being irrational. But to me, I wasn't. I wasn't going to give up and just shrug it off and get a new pedometer or find it later. I NEEDED that pedometer. If I didn't find it it would be another thing I had failed to do and it was my fault for loosing it in the first place. I checked endless times under my bed with a small ball of hope left in me but nothing changed. I got angrier and angrier until I had brushed my hair 3 times and it looked flat-ironed. I had to leave soon. BUT I NEEDED THE PEDOMETER. If I didn't find it my previous efforts and sacrifices were for nothing. Why did I even try hard to find it in the beginning anyway? I was being sooooo superficial and this first-world problem was NOTHING. I could just leave it. But something inside me didn't want to give up because god forbid my previous efforts be for nothing. So I ended up looking for my pedometer for a full 30 minutes while ranting under my breath and making sarcastic comments left and right. I'm scary when I'm angry because I become the embodiment of passive aggressiveness, I talk to inanimate objects and because I become the Queen of Pestimisticality (Probably not a world but it sounds impressive). In the end I actually ended up not finding it and I got in the car infuriated and feeling fugly af. Then my sister climbed in and hit me in the face with her backpack and I just let go and started crying, calling myself ugly between the tears because I really didn't need puffy eyes to go with my flat ironed hair look. I plugged in my earbuds and listened Slowtown and tried to clam down, thinking about the whole situation logically and realizing I was being such a baby and I really need to work on my reaction to small issues.
I had a better rant about this I swear, I was composing it in the car, but I forgot it all and I'm okay now.
