patience. it doesn't exist in my world. if you're in front of me, get the fuck out of my way. i can't seem to get a grip on it. control it. the driver's seat of my car is a haven for anxiety. MOVE! christ.
the grocery store. can't do it. i can't walk up and down the isles slowly dodging other people and their kids and their carts. the indecisiveness of it all. the SLOWNESS of it all. standing in the checkout line. forget it.
what did she think of me? i just said "hello". she gave me a look. a look of disgust. as if she were scared of me even from a distance. before i even spoke. is it my clothes? can people see through me? do they know where i've been? what i've done? is my face posted somewhere? fuck. gimme a fuckin' break. i hate this shit. i hate people. that stupid bitch. i was treated better in lock up. respected. i'm not respected out here. people don't give a fuck.
i don't wanna be here. i don't wanna be here.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment