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Wednesday, February 25, 2004


Another really bad day

Tell me something, please... Someone please explain why when I say I know what people think of me that I would be lying. When I tell someone that I have a sixth sense about moods, and thoughts towards me, and why, I am not as full of shit as they make me out to be. I'm one of those people who have lived through HELL over and over and over again, and in order to survive that hell I had to know what someone thought of me, because it was the fucking difference between living another day, and being beaten to death. So you know what, if you don't care, fine... I'm used to it. If you do care, then you already know how I feel about this, about how people treat others. What the hell gives my so called friends an excuse to blame me for how I protect myself? No one really knows, no one has really been there, so unless you've had to live through what I have, don't even begin to try and diagnose whats wrong with me. I'm sorry if I'm not the right color for your perfect portrait of life, but damn it, I'm trying. I'm working my ass off to fit into what you want me to be, and trying to keep my heart together after so many years of being stepped on and scattered. I have maybe thre people who are helping me, and millions more holding me down. I love you Lee, and thank you so much for helping me keep my spirit, my heart in one peice... Why do you think I love being with you so much..? Free from being hurt, nightmares, actually feeling loved, all of these things are amazing, are new... And you are amazing yourself... I'm sorry about you having to deal with my problems on top of your own. I love you, and hopefully we can talk later...

Love always
~heather




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