fucked. how clear the water is when someone's shat in it. My hands are flecked with paint, my legs tired
from walking in company over the last days. My mind is anger, my body is pain. My eye tics incessantly in stress.
I am falling apart and no one is there it pick up the bleeding pieces.
I know what would save me. If I ran. Far and fast I would live for another period of time, unhappy but breathing.
If I stay I will inflict pain. God a really stupid person told me that pain makes you grow. Ick. yea right,
the pain I feel makes me stronger? Breaking a razor into to, and cutting into my flesh to feel pain, makes me stronger?
Oh, I do hate people who have one truth and throw it in your face each time your smile falls. My life is my own, and
not yours. My pain is socially defined. But please don't tell me it makes me stronger, or I will kill myself just
to prove you wrong.
