listened to insults silently in the dark. mild break down. "I HATE YOU!" slammed the door. grabbed a kitchen knife. stormed out onto the patio outside. sat down. lit a smoke. threw the ring. realised i was in my underwear sitting outside on a patio chair. decided not to care. finished my smoke.

you say i'm a drama queen. well. i'd say you're right. i'd also say that you're a fucking asshole and it's mostly your fault. i wouldn't have to be so dramatic if it took less than that to get your attention in the first place. just because i cry every day doesn't mean it hurts any less when i do. i've been telling him for years that there's something not right with me. normal people, if there are any, don't cry for absolutely no reason. they cry because they're sad or hurt or sometimes for those lucky bastards happy. i cry because i don't know what else to do. i cry because it's the closest thing i can get to explaining how i feel although it's miles away from being the same thing.

after scaring the shit out of him and fishing a ring out of a sea of grass, he asked if i wanted to go to counseling with him. he gets free counseling from the police department. i said no. we both know i'm bi-polar and we don't need some fuckin mook telling us so. what i need is to not be ignored. to be visible. doesn't seem like it's too much to ask for. does it?

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before - random - after