in line, like the rest

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.