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I’m told…

we’re going to talk about this in the morning.

Ya, well, I have a rule against going to bed angry, let alone enraged.

Enraged at being utterly dismissed, and not only that, criticised (nay judged!) for pointing it out.

Enraged to the point where my ego is saying to my id “you know what, fuck you Lady, I’m the hell outta here, cause there ain’t nothing the fuck here for me”.

I felt that way yesterday getting outta the car before Open Mic, like, this is foolish, you’re acting like a 2 year old with your stupid shiny shoes in your pink bag with a bow.

And now I feel that way with a dress that’s been hanging my easel all day, waiting to be worn. I’m wearing a tear stained face that was PERFECTLY made up… that was just waiting to light up with a smile.

I’m a spoiled brat.

I guess I got those smiles last night, and I recon those will come again….

But damn that asshole whose head is sleeping pretty right now.

HE made me cry.

And I’m told I make motion when that happens. (interpol).

Just where I go is up to me now isn’t it?



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