Sunday, 21 November 2010

one more moan on this beautiful Sunday

I am not psychic. I am bored of asking 'how high?' when you tell me to jump. I am sick of being reliant on you all for money. Stupid me for becoming a student. I am tired of always having to back down and be always being on your side, or your side or your side. I would like to be on my side. Which is no side at all. You're all wrong. I am sorry that sometimes I am thoughtless because I have an awful lot going on in my head. I am not feeling sorry for myself and I do not want to cry. I am not sad. I am merely frustrated that I have to constantly tip-toe on egg shells all of the time and yet if I am feeling sad or tearful or anxious or like crying, I am being melodramatic. And a troublemaker. And don't accuse me of not caring for our dogs. I do. I stress out. I take them to the vet. I complain to the vet about poor service. I trek to and fro across London. I may not have paid completely for things, but, trust me, I have paid.

So, shaddap. Stop fucking griping and guilt-tripping and moaning. And arguing.

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