To The Bastards Known as Hormones

Today I am writing an angry letter to my hormones. You know, one of those angry letters you write that you never actually intend to give to the unsuspecting victim of your rage. One of those. Except, if I could, I would make my hormones read it aloud. Actually no that doesn't do it justice...if my hormones were people I would tie them to chairs in a little shack with bad lighting, like in one of those torture scenes in military movies. And then I would shove the letter down their throats. Yeah. Something like that is more deserving of the emotional ping-pong I've been playing lately.
But, since I don't have that ability I'm going to share the letter with you, Internet. Because sharing the letter with someone will make me feel better- I hope. Plus, I haven't posted in a while and I think you may enjoy it. So here it goes.

Dear Hormones... No, no, let me revise that.
Yo- Fucking Bitches,
What's up with you lately? One minute your chill, you know, not really giving a shit about the minute things happening in my life, and then WAHBAM you're freaking out. I hate it. These manic depressive mood swings take a lot out of me. They really do. Plus they aren't fair to anyone else. So quit it already. One second you have me all la-di-da, life is cool, and then with out a warning I want to crawl into a little ball and bawl my eyes out. Or rip someone's head off. And back and forth between the two. (Or right now, you fucking bastards, I know you know I'm writing an angry letter towards you, and you took all the rage. You're such pansies. ) It's like a never ending game of emotional Pong...

Fuck it. I'm no good at angry letters. Just know that I am shaking my fist at you hormones.