1:17 AM

The World Is Out To Get Me ... sometimes.

I couldn't possibly be the only creature who feels as though it sometimes appears that the whole bitter world is out to get me. Furthermore, how can it be that the more I try to speak my piece, even politly so, and make things right or to be understood I feel more like the displaced fool than the justified innocent child I feel like.

And as sure as I'm sure I am in the right I begin to question myself. Am I impulsive? Am I angry, out of control, irrational and just unmanagable? If I'm not, as friends and family would surely tell me I'm in the right (that's their job, of course) than what posses so many people in a condensed span to slap me in the face then look at me like I struck myself in a repetitive possessed form?

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