Whatever. I am pissed now. And this time, the anger does not subside.
I am sick and tired of your stupid games, your lies, all the whispering around me, all the talebearers shooting glances at me, pointing their dirty fingers at my back. Sick and tired of the gossipry that rises, level after level. I'm sitting there, waiting for it to spiral down, to simmer down but not any more. I'm sick and tired, of waiting.
If you have a problem with me, just fucking tell it to me. Is that so hard to do?
I'm fed up with you (or make that all of you) staring at me with that irreproachable expression, and when I'm gone, you turn around and your fucked up faces morph into an expression that of a pharisee. It's so revolting, no, it's worse than revolting. Simply put, it's disgusting.
And worse of all, it's so... fake. And I thought at least some of you were my friends. My bloody fucking friends.
There, I've said it. It feels so much better now.
Back to the masquerade.
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I love sleeping, eating and my imaginary tattoo.
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