Forbidden Love

Being forced to write here instead of to my case manager / therapist makes me furious. Why can’t they handle me? Fuck them so hard up the anal hole.

And then I’m upset with myself for being vulgar, because being angry and freedom of speech makes me vulgar.

I don’t know what to do.

I want to go for a walk but our neighborhood is fucking staid. Placid. Insipid. =) vocabulary. I want to improve my English vocabulary still. It’s feels good to learn new words to know.

Like I said, I would go for a walk if where I lived were more picturesque. More trees, more grass, green, flowers, who knows. Birds, I don’t know. There’s nothing but concrete and front yards that aren’t allowed to be decorated except like holiday plastic. It’s retarded.

And I have to fucking stop using the word retarded as a synonym for obnoxious, because it offends and insults mentally handicapped folks.

God. I have a long way to go. And I’ve know this for a while. It’s not a sudden revelation. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been so angry with myself for so long.

I love interacting with you. And I hate myself when I yell at you. Add that to the list.

What can I say.

I tried working on game design today but didn’t make much progress. Still, a discrete amount.

I just want to write poetrry all the time. I love it.

If only it were allowed.

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