It's almost comical how I don't want to be here.
I didn't know I had such a short temper.
People piss me off and I get so frustrated, and I have so many things to say but I can't.
It's sad because I know the reason why I can't.
Negative thoughts transpire, words that pierce surface, and my mind conjures the scenario as if it will one day happen. I imagine myself saying what I want, and sometimes that suffices.
I smile at the idea of other peoples expectations,
how indifferent people are
how some people lack etiquette and overall politeness.
That's what you get for being fucking nice.
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