yeah, rarely does anyone go to my pagie anyways. keke^^ does it really matter though? nah, it doesn't. hm. feeling sick to my stomache....i think i know why now, cough syrup gives me stomache pains. oh wellz. hm. i was going to write a poem entitled the scum beneath my shoe but in my rage, i cannot form sentences that work. in my rage, i'm in despair. what has the world come to? why am i the one to feel such pain? why am i the one that no one cares to think about? why am i the one that args...

so i see, my word isn't good enough for others. hm. if you don't trust my word, you trust nothing of me. yeah, betrayal of the simplest form. args. at times, you question why i grow angry at you, but you never come to question what you've done to me. args args. you ditched me, abondoned me in a corner, threw me away, and when i express my anger to you, you're like "oh, i'm sorry that i did that, what can we do to fix that?" but the sad part is, you had no intention of fixing it to begin with. you are a liar; a fulfledged liar. args. i am a hypocrite, this i know, but at least i know and i try to be as unhypocritical as possible. args args. all the medicine that i had is like now going to my brain. sighs sighs. and so, i see that in my anger, all i have to see is myself alone again. in my anger i see that the number one person in anyone's life is themselves. bitter anger comes harsh realities. but i suppose i've seen enuff this time to not be shocked of what is to follow.

in my sickened state, my mom only complains to me about how weak my body is. she complains to me saying how my immune system has the weakest of protection. she complains saying that i am immune to nothing. she complains that the simplest of cold winds can get me sick. is it my fault that my immune system isn't like her's at all? is it my fault that i will grew up in this generation instead of hers? is it my fault? is it my fault?!?! why does everything always come back to bite my ass?!?!? args. and then when i come to think about it, i become mad. as a kid, she had always put responsibility on me. this i know because she had always treated me the way she treats me now. young, but old, responsible, but irresponsible, i will always be her youngest one. i have come to accept that. but what i do not come to accept is her complaining about me. yes, i know i am imperfect but i can't help that. is it my fault that as a kid she trust me to drink my water, but never forced me to? was it my fault that you had a kid that has weak bones because she is lactose intolerant and puked every time she drank milk? is it my fault? is it my fault that GOD himself allowed me to become the way i was? why is this woman, whom i call my mother complaning so much? i don't understand her logic. is there even logic behind her words? is it in her frustration that words she so means to say all this time finally coming out? is it my fault that humans remain humans and imperfect? args.