I'm pretty sure you ruined my day. I could only hope so hard that you could live up to expectations, mine and those that people previous to you have set. However, you fail me. Not only that, but you disgust me. You make me want to vomit until I cough up blood and then continue. For me to rid my body of its entire contents before I begin having dry heaves. I wish I could spit acid on you.
Do you even know what you did? You gave me a seventy-five. However, that's not even the half of it. You refused to acknowledge or try to comprehend a new idea. I didn't follow the POTW (purpose of the writing)? Honestly, that's your excuse? You did not write it! Walter Van Tilburgh Clark did. Are you him? I didn't think so. Your perspective v. mine. Excuse me for being different. More than that, if she didn't write it, could she be wrong? Should she refuse to see another viewpoint? Another possible reason for writing? I don't think so. It's like saying, "I'm your teacher and I'm a Catholic; you wrote an essay about why you're atheist and backed it up with valid points, but that's not a correct interpretation of life, thus you get an F." It feels like I wasn't graded on my skill as a writer, but why I was wrong in my viewpoints. And that is just depressing. (Isn't there always an underlying possibility?)
I don't have a dairy. I don't have a heart. I have a blog and a soul, and it's all I've got to cling to.
I love it how you tell the truth. You're doing me a big favor. Yet, it breaks me up inside. I tell you something for you to shut me down. I can't fight back because I need you to help me. I will forever be trampled. It feels like I could never win you over either. You will always see my flaws and you may always be in love. I'll sit along the sidelines and watch...
'Dear heart,
far away from darkness.
Where does this feeling arise?
Toss you between two letters,
pieces fall.
Can't believe I'm falling apart,
all over you...'
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