venting.
i hate being sick. and then feeling sorry for myself. i hate that my birthday got ruined. i hate that NOBODY knows how i feel. EVER. i hate that i sound like a baby, but the truth is somedays i just want to cry.
i hate that i'm no longer comfortable hanging out with my "best friend." and that her "friends" are so rich that they've lost all concept of reality. i hate that palm beach is "cool," because some shmuck slammed a spinning table in a courtyard and said so. i hate that i don't feel good enough to run with the crowd.
because i am.
in fact, somedays i'm better than good enough.
so fuck you.
and your money.
my smile is prettier than yours.
and my conscience is real.
one day i'll get mine. and you'll be ugly.
i hate that i'm no longer comfortable hanging out with my "best friend." and that her "friends" are so rich that they've lost all concept of reality. i hate that palm beach is "cool," because some shmuck slammed a spinning table in a courtyard and said so. i hate that i don't feel good enough to run with the crowd.
because i am.
in fact, somedays i'm better than good enough.
so fuck you.
and your money.
my smile is prettier than yours.
and my conscience is real.
one day i'll get mine. and you'll be ugly.