when you finally learn what everyone else knew. Only, it isn't really funny except you have to laugh or you might just crumble before everyone and that would be bad. They may have to tell your parents and then even they would know you're freakin psychotic.
...Only I'm sick of laughing about it. I'm mad, and someone should have to pay. It's only freaking fair. I'm sick of pretending that most things are fine. Sure, it could be worse, sure I could be in a worse situation, but that doesn't change the fact that I want to rip someone eyes out of their head, run around cussing everyone who ever did me any wrong out, scream until my voice is raw, and then smirk to myself when those people ask for favors. I want to slam my fists into the their faces and then scream at them everything they said that ever hurt me. Maybe then they would see that there is reason behind these scars. Maybe then they'd realize I'm freaking sick of this crap and just need a moment to myself so I don't freaking tear them apart.
But I wouldn't ever be able to remember everything they said to me, all the words that ate at me, had me slinking away to my room, the glass or blade or other sharp edge, wouldn't be able to remember not make up things I want to yell at them. Who gives a crap if they put me into some asylum?! It's freaking away from this!!
Yet, I'm still a caged bird, unable to let this anger, saddness, hate run free. I'm still laughing, like it's still fine.
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