even in comforting walls of home, a dampened soul bounces off them manic. shivering and crying over lost limps, ripped from shoulder to shoulder in a fit of rage, singing, i'm done with english, i'm done with english under your shelter with the 17 ways you've already identified are problematic roots, suffering whilst harvesting, we don't remove the problem, we grow with it.
i'm tired of trying.
you amass your stupidity to forgive a cheating bastard who hasn't done jackshit for you, yet lack the compassion to let me pass.
you like it. this self-pity, feeling worthless and helpless and long suffering version of yourself. loving mules. you like it. you like the world to see how self-sacrificing you can be. true grace.
i'm tired of trying, i say this with clenched fist, i'm tired of trying.
"these are feelings that can't be help." these are feelings for the handicap.