Am I a bug? Do I fly on your computer screen, and you swat at me, oblivious that I have a life, and feelings? Am I squished beneath your palm, the salty sweat of your hand crushing my fragile body? Do I die slowly and painfully because I annoy you?
I don't want to be a bug. I'm so tired of being shunned because I have a cat that likes to attack people and I still love him. Or other stupid things. Yes, I do judge bands. Yes, I probably hate things you love. Get. Over. It. People are different, people aren't all fakes and posers like you want them to be.
God is sick and twisted when he created this hell forsaken world. Its stupid, shallow, and people are stupid, and shallow. I am not wise, but I am smart, and I know that I can help change things later. And you'll all come to me with your heart problems and guess what? I won't fix them for you. I won't.
Can you taste the fear in her sweat?
