� Redbull � 2003-06-01 � 10:58 p.m. �

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I am having brief, yet severe moments of anger... thinking about things. It's similar to a pity party only I don't feel grief I feel hatred.

It is now that I see my weakness... here in grey... in black and red. It's here I stop knowing what I am sure I was... and start questioning my ability to overcome.

I have this right.... the right to be mad. I have a right to hate myself sometimes. To look at me and not see what you might.

I have that right. I have the right not to know why people talk to me, or fancy me... Not to know what it is to be happy or pretty or have any ounce of confidence. I fake it well, usually.

And much as they think it helps, i don't want to be told that it is ok, and that they're behind me. I don't want to be told that I can do this... again.

I am sick of being rejected because I am not sick enough... or I am not typical enough... because I am not a text-book case. Wake up fuckers and learn from this. LEARN from ME! Maybe that's the purpose altogether and maybe they aren't seeing it.

I think next week I am going to see my doctor and yell that his best efforts just are not good enough for me anymore. I am going to yell until my face is blue... until he calls the cops and maybe by end of our fifteen minutes he'll hear me, finally. I wish I could.

I want this anger to get me. I want it to last.

I want these moments of red to weigh my worth.

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