4:48 Psychosis

Is no less stunning the 56th time than it was the 1st time.
It's so wonderfully, brilliantly epic.
I can't even aptly describe it in words.
So painful and expressive.
Sarah Kane was a genius.

I spend fucking ages talking, writing and chatting and all I get in response is ':)' or ':p' or, occasionally, 'lol.'
I mean, how does that not seem short and rude to you? If someone gave me five or six lines of text that they'd obviously worked on and my response was ':)' I'd most certainly feel guilty about it.
And it's obvious you don't get anything I tell you. You never look beyond what i'm saying in order to figure out what I mean. You can't be that dumb. Do you even try? Do you even care?

Mother keeps commenting on my dinstinct lack of pleasantness recently. Every single uttered sentence that isn't laced with bluebirds, rainbows and fairies provokes the response "Are you not taking your tablets?"
Well, I'm so sorry I need to alter my brain chemistry in order to please you. Taking antidepressants is all well and good but, unless you've been there or are there, you can't possibly comprehend how empty a drug-induced good mood is. It's not a good mood. It's the facade of a good mood.
It's like being out of orange juice. And your solution is taking water, dyeing it orange and then drinking it and calling it 'orange juice.' It may look like it and sound like it, but the taste is as disappointing and bland as nothingness.

I know. I'm strange. And whiney. And bordering on pathetic.

But you suck.
And we all know it.

T'ra.