I hate fighting with people. No, scratch that, I dislike fighting with people. I hate fighting with my brother.
I know why it happened: today was absolutely exhausting, and my task list was large as hell. It seemed like there simply wasn’t enough hours in the day to get everything I needed (wanted) to get done done.
Meanwhile, my brother had the day off, and he basically spent most of the day loafing around the house. Which is, admittedly, his right, as he works his ass off most days. But when I got home, something about his casual attitude and – well – how unproductive he was just set me off.
So I snapped and ended up screaming like an idiot. And it was entirely my fault. I was just stressed, and none of that stress was because of him, but I still took it out on him.
Luckily, he’s one amazingly smart and understanding dude, and basically brought me back down to reality and got me to calm down.
And now I feel absolutely horrible.
So I’m going to find a way to make it up to him this weekend, even though he told me we were good. Because we’re not. At least, I’m not. I love him too much to be.
I got some thinking to do…