I want to scream, cry, tear at the fabric, bite the flesh that hurts me. I am fighting blind against enemies unknown, but familiar and all around me.
How is it that I feel so out of contol? Why is this feeling strangely familiar?
Not being told the things I should know. Being made a competitor in a game I don't want to play. No, your life is not harder than mine. No, the reason why I can manage to live day by day is not because I am privileged or lazy. I have no demons to play with. And that drives you fucking nuts.
I've had a hard day today, and the difference between me and you is that I wrote this little angry letter. And you? You just throw it all away. Soon there will be no one left to listen to you.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
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2 comments:
{{{{{hugs}}}}}
Hope tomorrow is better for you.
Thanks, Fi. It was. Nothing like poetic license to release the gremlins that lurk inside. I felt better soon after writing it all down. I am doing an experiment of not being too much in my own head and writing things down even if they pain me or I am afraid what others will think when they read it.
Xoxo
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