This unit not labeled for individual sale
Um, would you like to know about my life?
I think I love everyone that is kind and hate everyone cruel. Small things have taught me this, but over time, while you can admire the person holding the gun or swinging the blade, you don't want to be them or near them. You eventually want them to suffer the smallness they see in everyone else. I hope, eventually, I don't want anything for them and I can just stop worrying and work on being kind myself.
And I knew...in the crystalline knowledge of youth.
This, which you couldn't have known, stems from an odd car-ride conversation with my mother who has a lot more layers than I ever would have imagined. I like being around people who aren't waiting to get away from me. Maybe that's just a personal preference.
I have decided I should finally learn how to use commas. But if I fail in this endeavor, no big deal.
Promises, big heart, a fear that won't leave me alone. My poetry, my lists, the green of the beck, the vibrating violin, the electric, the mediation, the vitamins, the dropped letters, the skinned throat, the purpose, dancing, the lost thread.
I don't owe anyone anything in my diary. Goddamnit. I don't owe anyone a fucking fuck in this life. I am sick of worrying about your happiness when you wouldn't lift a finger for mine. It's freaking ridiculous. Go elsewhere for your internet entertainment. I'm tainted by my own joy and I won't be servile any more. Not for the scraps of praise you spit out.
Sorry.
Fuck off.
