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I want to be mad. Really, really mad. I want to be insane with rage. I want to kick asses and crack skulls. But hey, surprise, surprise. Iapos;m internalizing this. One more mark to the internal apos;I suckapos; count. Because this is my fault. Like I should have known better. Like I should be more than human and be devoid of emotion. Can I go back to the apos;please, someone, lobotomize meapos; thing? I know a little more of the brain now, I know a little better which parts should go. I could draw a picture for someone to go on. I can even supply a rock and a stick as tools.

Iapos;m mad at myself more than anything. And, granted, thereapos;s no way I could have known. There were no signs, no clues, not even an vague inclination. I hear so often how apos;awesomeapos; I am. Iapos;m so awesome. But how can I be both irresistable and repellant? Always second best. Perhaps I just set myself up for this. Iapos;m too nice. I know it. I should do something about it, but I donapos;t. I probably wont for a good long time. I let people get away with things they shouldnapos;t. Why? Because I donapos;t like conflict. Iapos;m a fucking coward. Iapos;d rather keep the peace then speak up for myself on even the teeniest, tiniest, most insignifigant things. Even if the benefit of speaking up far outweights the consequence, I wont do it. I put up and shut up. Itapos;s what I do. Iapos;m a glutton for punishment, and I should just learn to like it.

I guess Iapos;m just supposed to be okay with this? Like, apos;okay, Iapos;ll put aside any shred of dignity or self to stroke your ego. Itapos;s so totally fine that you completely and utterly mislead me from the moment we met. Itapos;s fine. Totally fine. Iapos;m fine. Can I get you a chilled beverage?apos;

Fucking shit. Everyone and everything blows.










There. I got angry and I donapos;t like it. Asshole. Or assholes? I donapos;t know, but I feel I should be pissed at parties involved. ...And I am.

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