It's that simple.
Written @ 10:26 a.m. on 2009-10-28
I don't care for your mood today, I'll wear what I want on my face, And I won't ask you for my space, It's what you'd call no one's place You're such a condescending bird You perch so high above the world To look down at us mouthing words Interpreted but never heard You don't know that you don't know Still I wouldn't stoop that low Spare me conditioned caring Together or alone I'll grow--you'll grow --------- So my friend's mom was rushed to the hospital. My other friend has cancer. Another friend lost her fiance to a car crash. And... if right now I can't put up with 'woe is me' why the hell should i put up with 'woe is you'? It's that simple. I wan't to do work. I don't want to be stoned. I don't want to sit around watching people be stoned, or drunk, or generally self destructive. It's my last semester. It's that simple. You hit on my guy (but didn't mean it?) You hit on your taken professor (but didn't mean it?) You walked out on me trying to wake you up (but meant to go to the bathroom, second version: cry, third version: get space) Then when I tell you that I'm catching up on work you call my parents, my brother and my friends to find out where I am--tell me I have demons (but only because you give a shit?) You're sorry I'm fine? I'm sorry you're not. But not that sorry. Cause let's face it, after people dying or getting really close to it-- your depression looks pretty self indulgent. And I've been there. But now I'm not. And it's that simple.
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