2006-04-02 - 2:57 p.m.

dear ______,

i'm tired. and sick. not ill, but weary.

i want to throw a tantrum. a sissy fit. or whatever you call it.

i keep giving in. like a puppet with wooden limbs, dancing to your whims.

and i'm sick! so sick. and desperate. and despairing. knowing there's nothing i can do about it. knowing that if you cut these strings, i will merely fall to the ground in a heap.

shit! you bastards!! what kind of a life is this??

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