Saturday, September 13, 2014

Fuck being Reserved

Has my life become about tiptoeing around my own dramatic tendencies and meanwhile suffering with trying to tolerate my loved ones' messes? Am I a just a tumbleweed whisping by quietly and accumulating garbage or am I a strong wind that picks up hot air and swirls into a tornado, collecting casualties as I go--cows and barns and such?

I much prefer to reserve dramatic response for positive use. Instead, I'm lit dynamite with a fuse longer than most realize. I don't think people have it out for me, I just think they're oblivious of the fact that I hold my discontent in so as to give them another chance. Take advantage of that chance and throw me around like I'll always stick around? Well, to put it simply...
fuck you.
I have greater feelings to feel, more joyful memories to experience, and more respect to gain. elsewhere. with someone else. Because I'm worth more than this, you ought to recognize.