All the words around me bite. They drip with bitterness. Everyone is so displeased. It's a simple enough existence in this place I live, but no one is happy. And rightfully so. Simple here means "do what you're told". Yelling is the language, though I don't speak or understand it. It grates on my nerves. Sometimes I can almost feel the discontent and anger dripping from the walls and ceiling. Heavy on my shoulders, it weighs me down. Quick, someone pull the plug on the drain before I drown. I fear floating here forever, lungs filled with that which I spit so easily. Any of us could do what we could to make it easier for all of us, but I don't want to fix it. I want to escape it. So until then, I'll continue to contribute to this horrible fucking feeling. Hence the self-loathing.
Someday I will escape, and I can start having the kind of life that will inspire incredibly more interesting blogging and writing. Until then, you get this shit, and for writing...I'll keep making shit up.