The thin layer of whatever was keeping me from screaming shatters as soon as you slam your fist down. Communication skills. Are you sure its only me who needs to learn them? When I am out of this, what will you do oh wise one? Who will you scream at when we are gone forever, leaving you old and broken and utterly alone? I may contact you one day, to arrange your funeral like a good girl, with the nearby ditch. Where you can be slowly eaten away by your brothers, the maggots.
I promise its all Ill ever do for you.
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Mostly just stuff that goes on in my life.
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