Rage against the Machine.

I could scream. Or cry. Usually in my case- anger takes over to stop the tears.

I am sick and tired of being told I'm over sensitive and irrational and bossy and bitchy and "opinionated" (isn't everyone!?).

My Mum is in hospital for cancer.

There are people at work I have known for a matter of months, people in other parts of the country who have shown more concern, more care and understanding towards me than someone who claims to know me inside out.

To you I say this:

There are times I hate you. There are times I feel you hate me. There are times that I feel I am just so sick and tired of your face, your baggage, your gloomy outlook on life, your lack of any sort of emotion, your lack of any care for anything non-tangiable, your absolute lack of lust and love for the biology of things, the organic nature of things, anything remotely ethereal, anything other than solidity, greyness and blankness.

You are like a heavy weight. Bearing down. Holding me down, telling me that everything that makes me feel like a real person is somehow exagerrated, wrong, erratic... this is just what it is like to think and feel like a normal, social, person who likes to chat, be silly and love things. You have only one passion- which is all you can now communicate. Anything else beyond that is deemed as irrelevent, too much effort, and merely an interference to this rigid, grey, bleak, life you've carved for yourself.

ANY time I ask for more now, it's too much. I'm overbearing, hyper-sensitive. I'm always to blame. And actually, actually, no. It's not that at all. We just exist on completely different planes. Such that I don't really know you... I most certainly don't like you anymore. How could I like such an un-caring, soul destroying, misery?

I'm going to re-claim what you try and take away from me on a daily basis as my own.

I can no longer tell who I am because you've tried constantly to shape me into something I'm not- the common denominator in anything that goes wrong because other than your work you fail at life, at recognising and enjoying what actually matters.

And I am fucking sick of it.