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And do you know what? I love it.
I used to look at the things I loathe and hate about myself and apologize for them. Frankly, I take it all the fuck back.
Like every other damned human being on this earth, I fuck up. Granted, 'I do so more than the average person'... But who, praytell, is the average person, anyway? Well, let's see now... First off, they've already majorly fucked up simply by becoming the average person. And... yep, that does it for me.
I'm so fucking happy that I have the balls to love, get angry, defend myself, cry, apologize and rock on. It's the way of my world. If you don't like it, lick it.
I'm pissed that I can't be taken seriously over the only things I wish I could be. So simple; Act, Play, Rock. Yet.. so complex; Bitch Directors, Shitty Playwrights, Spotlight Theft, Internal Slicing, Dissatisfaction, Musical Suicide, Musical Suicide Part II, Those Who Can't Hear It.
Come on, all of you who crumble at the tone of my name. I fought for it, I got it, you had it, I won it. It's that simple; to say, understandable, but do, difficult. No worries. But what? What's that again, little conscious of mine? Oh, yes. It's your fucking problem if you have one with me. I don't go out looking to cause problems and make your lives miserable. Despite the person I can become, I'm a pretty nice person unless you piss me off. Having that said, don't kick a Doberman Pincer in the ribs.
Look. All I'm saying is that I try my best. It kills me to see people still shitting on me despite this, then topping my blanket of shit with honey when I lash back about it. If I get angry, I'm a stupid bitch. If I don't say anything, I'm a weak motherfucker. And this is the reality that pokes at the back of my throat and makes me puke.
All of you who I'm talking to should know exactly who you are. If you hear this; if you have any single, sensible bone in your little index fingers, you'll shut the hell up, close the curtains, and move onto ACT II.
All of you orange-pickers (no, no, not those of Hispanic origin, but rather the people who mosey about from tree to tree who have nothing better to do than pick oranges), in my opinion, are ridiculous to even have a worry about your wonderful lives. Disagree? COME ON, prove me wrong, bitches. HOLLA. This **** needs her stage, Baby... let's have fun.