Fuck you.

I hate when people play mind games with me. Just come out and say how you really feel and stop going through the motions. It pisses me off ever so much when you can't just verbalize....IN ANY NUMBER OF WAYS your true feelings about me. I'll talk to you one day, but completely ignore you the other. That's such bullshit. Leave me the hell alone if you're going to go that route. Not as if it would make a difference since you neglect to share anything with me...and I'm the reason you're even there!

I hate people.

Why I Suck in a Paragraph or Less

I cried today.

I didn't just cry once, I cried twice.

Not only did I cry twice, I cried twice in the restroom.

Two different restrooms, I may add.

These two restrooms, however, did have several things in common:

1.) Toilet stalls, sinks, mirrors, trash cans, and the like.

2.) They were both on school campus.

3.) A girl crying in the stall, practically clinging to the shit stained door.

So, after I was done crying in the last stall in the first restroom, I spied someone I really didn't want to see at that moment, ran downstairs and cried in the last stall in the second restroom.

I waited until I had semi-decent composure. Since I felt the lump in my throat that is usually indicative of a heavy sobbing session, I heaved a large sigh and swallowed my pride. Persuading the lump in my throat into some dark hole of my heart, I no longer hid in the restroom. I walked outside in the cool night air and let the biting cold sting my cheeeks. My nose continued to run as I sat down at a table, ungracefully plopping myself down on the bench. I searched through my backpack for something that would make me forget what had just happened, but I found nothing. Instead, I pulled out my yarn and my ball-point pens to continue knitting as well as I could. My eyes were watering again; this time from the bitter whipping wind. This very wind invited a woman outside to the tables. She lit her cigarette, and the stench radiating from it was enough to sicken my stomach. I shoved my knitting in my backpack, hoisted my bag up, and quickly pulled it over my shoulders. Glaring, not at the woman, but at my own life reflected in the cars speeding on the street, passing each other, turning, stopping....constantly, I huffed off . Disgusted with people and thoroughly ready to give up, I continued to walk.

Hood up. Head down. Hands in pockets. Hole in heart.

Why is this relevant? It's not.

Cheer me up?