Sick of the god damned pity party and gossip whores
The hardest thing about this week had to be the assholes. The suicide hasn't really affected me yet, but the gossipwhores have. I don't want to tell you where he was found. I don't want to tell you how he killed himself. Hell, I'm not even going to tell you that it was a suicide. Stop being a bitch and feeding on someone's death, and go the fuck away. Zach doesn't need you around here, and neither does Mom. We still have 7 other guns, you will be escorted off the property if the need arises.
And jesus christ. I love Sally to death, but this could be the end of a very good friendship if she doesn't stop hovering. We're in public together? She's hovering at my shoulder. We're on the phone? You would think I were on my death bed from how she lowers her voice and acts like she has to protect me. Sorry but he killed himself. Right there. I can look at the spot where he did it from my bedroom window. I'm the one with the empty bedroom and the cold garage. You're not protecting anybody, you're just making an ass of yourself and potentially ruining a great friendship.
Yes, I'm selfish. But I've had fucking enough of people joining this god damned pity party. I don't want fucking pity. I want to talk to old friends. I want to see people. I don't want people to surround me and check my every move to make sure I'm not tearing up. And I don't need any of you to tell me to fucking cry, thank you very god damned much. I'll cry on my own god damned time, and it certainly won't be in front of you god damned fucktards that can't keep your god damned hands off and find serious issues with my god damned personal space.
i'm about to destroy some relationships that i've built over the years. I don't care. I want people to get over it. It's not changing. It happened. Life goes on.
god damn it.